#also - is this very quietly the AU i have where they are a yakuza front that end up employing kentaro and kinjo as like. normal employees | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bokugaos · 3 years

Text

Perfection

pairing: Bokuto x f!reader

length: 4.3k

summary: You are taken away and kept as the yakuza head’s trophy toy in exchange for clearing your father’s debt.

tags — traditional yakuza AU, dubcon, breeding, spanking, overstimulation, cum bulge.

a/n: (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ this is a secret santa gift for @kuroos-babygirl! it’s also my first fic of 2021 and we’re starting the year right!!~ HAPPY NEW YEAR <33

You look so petulant and angry in your defeat and sink down on your knees as soon as you are dropped off to your own feet inside the walls of the estate. Still you press your clamped hands against your lips, and murmur encouragement for yourself.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Your mouth is trembling in frustration—it makes Bokuto’s victory all the sweeter. He can tell that you haven’t heard him approach because you flinch back when his shadow suddenly falls across you.

Your pupils become little pinpricks of fear, then dilate again when the first confusion settles as you stare up at the yakuza boss, remembering why he is standing there now, tapping his foot impatiently.

He is slightly hunched over, yet still towering so high above you. A menacing grin slowly stretches his mouth. He looks a lot less tired when he smiles—and a lot less creepy. It doesn’t keep your heart from throbbing. You stare up at him quietly, your thoughts running across your face clear as day—so when you try to flee, he already knows about it long before you even move the first muscle. His arm shoots out to grab your hair and keep you right where you are.

“A deal’s a deal.” he murmurs into your grimacing face. You reach up and curl your hands around his wrist, but… it appears that he doesn’t even feel your fingers around him.

Bokuto doesn’t do deals with just any commoners, but your father is in too much debt, one that he wouldn’t even be able to pay back in an entire lifetime. Your father knows that, and the yakuza lord does too. Hence why he very kindly offered to clear the debt in exchange for, well, you. And of course, your parents agreed in a heartbeat. If there was even a slight hesitation or remorse of the fact that you were practically being sold to the city’s lord, your parents didn’t show any of it. You clench your thighs together, belly tight and prickly, tears ready to spill from your eyes.

Bokuto’s smile widens. The fist he has in your hair tightens and as you wince and whine, he pulls you closer to push your face against the growing bulge beneath his hakama.

He moves his hips, fucking against your face while you make choked little sounds and half-heartedly try to turn yourself away despite you becoming stupidly excited at the heat and smell of his dick through the fabric. You could use your hands to push him off of you, but you don’t.

“Take all your clothes off. The maids will take care of them.”

You pause at that. You’ve forgotten that you’re not alone.

You start to glance around as much as possible while he distractingly keeps smearing his bulge against your face. There are shadows slinking around the edges of the buildings.

You know that none of them would be able to help you.

—

It is rather embarrassing to admit this, but Bokuto takes care of you better than your parents ever did. He makes sure the servants make you good food, drapes you in lavish clothes, have you bathed in the finest of flowers; practically everything you’ve ever dreamed of about being in the higher class in the society.

And yet, you still spend your time as if you’re counting down the days to your release from a place so godforsaken. At this rate, and with the way you are behaving, you are quickly becoming more of an embarrassment to him than something he can show off.

Hurriedly spreading out the futon and sitting on the edge of it, he pulls you into his lap, only slightly sated by hearing your small yelp of surprise. He quickly locates the hem of your kimono and pushes it up to bunch at your waist, not even bothering to untie your obi. You try to get a word out at the same time his open palm comes down hard against the flesh of your exposed ass, and any would-be protests die in your throat.

Silently fuming, Bokuto holds you in place with a firm hand on the small of your back. Holding you close like this while also getting to take out his disappointment on you satisfied several needs at once, save for a particular need he only becomes aware of when the feeling of your belly against his crotch becomes too good to ignore.

However, his conscience sternly urges him to hold back. You are not perfect yet. This is not the right time.

If you are not responding to his graciousness, maybe you are the type who learns from being punished.

Once that thought crosses his mind, Bokuto feels like a man possessed as he hoists you off of his lap and onto the futon. You fall on your front with little more than a muted sound of surprise, and he pins you down with his own body before you can even attempt to find your bearings. In his haste to fulfill the desire that has finally been fully recognized, he begins tearing away your intricately wrapped kimono. You are in no position to refuse his grabbing hands, though you do become bolder in your soft cries of protest. You are becoming confident enough to use your words.

So Bokuto holds you in such a way to force you further against the sheets, quite literally taking your breath away. He is much, much bigger and stronger than you, holding all of your struggling limbs at once with ease.

He pins your arms behind your back and moves on to your legs and seizes you specifically by your ankles to spread them open in a humiliating pose. The position left your pussy open and vulnerable to him, and he can’t rid himself of his hakama fast enough. He catches sight of you glancing over your shoulder just in time to see his hard, leaking cock, and the look of fear on your face practically has him throbbing. When he grabs your thighs and aligns the tip with your distinctly unaroused entrance, he shoves in as deep as your body will allow.

You can no longer keep your pain silent, the pathetic cries bubbling out over your quivering lips as he holds you tight and prepares to spear in further. Your walls are beginning to grow slick from what he suspects is not desire but necessity, as the experience would have been much more painful than it needs to be if you were not at least a little wet. Every thrust slowly becomes easier, but the delicious resistance of your tight body remains dominant.

Bokuto buries himself within you and only moves his hips slightly at first, before starting a pace that wrings out the volume you are still holding back. You are crying out like a bitch in heat and it only encourages him to fuck you harder.

Bokuto hoists you back up just enough to arch your back towards him. This way he is able to look into your eyes, brimming with emotion and the primal fear of prey that felt its flesh being torn apart by a predator. He groans as his hand moves to your throat, holding you tight so he can feel you tremble and gasp for breath.

“I’ve been very patient. I gave everything you needed to adjust to living here with me. Yet you still refuse to fulfill your purpose,” he murmurs harshly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear with every word. “If you continue to refuse me, you’ll be sorry.”

With little more than a grunt of exertion, he spills himself directly into your abused womb. His hand slowly lets up its grip on your throat and you are able to breathe, though each breath comes out ragged and pitiful. Your body falls slack against the futon as soon as he lets you go, and he moves in to catch your legs and lift them up. Then he shifts to move closer to you, pulling you close and slipping a hand downwards to scoop up his release and push it back inside of you.

He feels you shiver against him when he presses his lips to the back of your shoulder. The hand that is not between your thighs is idly rubbing your belly, and his voice came out smooth as silk. “Don’t disappoint me again, you hear me?”

You are quiet, but Bokuto knows better than to read this as hesitation. It is more like you are tired and trying to catch your breath, or to find the proper words to say.

You are not yet in love with the idea, but rather, it’s as if you are at peace. Like you are finally coming to terms with what your life is now. The thought brings a bright grim to Bokuto’s face. Acceptance constitutes progress too, and it brings you one step closer to perfection.

—

There are many days where he is rough with you. Bokuto has taken over leadership at a very young age, and oftentimes, he takes his aggravation with him and takes it out on you. Part of him is dimly aware of this, but not aware enough to make him stop. Today is one of those days, and he is in a sour mood, desperately in need of both an outlet to pour his anger out and consolation.

You are shivering when Bokuto returns to the room, his steps heavy even on the carpeted floor. It is not exactly cold but you are naked, without even a single strand of hair out of place and your slender neck is on display just as the rest of you, and so nothing gets caught within any straps and hinges.

It is more the trepidation—and anticipation—that has you nervously dancing in place despite the thing he has carefully strapped you into a few minutes earlier. The wood is polished within an inch of its life, cinched around your neck and wrists, keeping you forced to bend over, ass to the door—just another little twist to his games that will keep you nervous and whiny because the thought of someone else stumbling in and getting an eyeful of your cunt is getting you tingly all over.

His little slut.

For the first time, Bokuto stays quiet. He is known as loud and boisterous young yakuza boss across the land, so to experience this silence is extremely unnerving for you. He does not even address you as he makes his way over with slow, heavy steps, but the thick air in the room makes his labored breathing all the louder.

It’s as if your cunt is glowing like a stop sign between your thighs, beckoning him closer. He wants to drag his fingers through the soft gape of your lips and pay some attention to your plump clit; torture it with some mean pinching like he knows you’ll go crazy for, but first, he slowly rounds to the front to have a look at your expression.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, anticipating his every move. You try to look up at him but his height and your position makes it impossible. He reaches for your chin, and you try to turn away from it but he grabs you anyway and slowly leans down, bringing his face very close to yours. You jerk away and abruptly avert your gaze elsewhere when you remember that you’re not supposed to look at him—not yet, not until he gives you the permission to—but he can see your face: bright and every bit scared as is excited.

He breathes slowly and measured, staring at you a bit longer just to unsettle you—then he lets go of your face and carefully tucks a lock of your hair back behind your ear. Some of the nervous fear seems to vanish from your expression after that.

Satisfied that everything is back in order, Bokuto stands back up and rounds you, watching the sway of your tits hanging down, and how your nipples are already swollen and needy. He pinches one—hard—and you cry out in surprise, your hips jerk as you automatically try to get away from the pain and realize you can’t go anywhere.

“No!” You whine, but it sounds weak. Your voice is trembling. He ignores you and pinches again, slower this time; increasing the pressure bit by bit until you start whining louder and louder, your knees bending then stretching again as you try to somehow mitigate the pain radiating off the tip of your breast.

He pulls down slowly, stretching the tissue until your whining becomes a short, rough cry of real pain, then he lets abruptly go.

When he leans over, he can see your cunt clench and relax desperately, slick already starting to glisten at the opening. You’ve always been a slut for pain.

He rounds you slowly, making a show out of letting his belt jingle loudly so you know he’s getting his cock out. You start whining again but a sharp two-fingered slap to your cunt has you shut up quickly.

Bokuto presses down with one big hand on the small of your back until you bend for him to have a comfortable grip on your hips as he drags the wide head of his cock through the valley of your ass.

Finally, it catches at the pouty rim of your pussy, pressing against it and forcing it to start spreading for the massive intrusion. He can hear you gasp for breath and he smirks in triumph.

“Squeal for me,” he murmurs, deep and ominous, then presses forward in earnest.

You do, because there’s no way you can keep quiet when Bokuto is fucking you open on his dick. You spread your toes against the carpet and curl them, trying to twitch out of the way but being held in place by his huge hands and his heavy weight on your back.

You are pinned in place, made to take his cock—basically letting him use you anyway he wants—and you couldn’t be more happy that he’s not hurting you too much, even though it is so very scary. You trust him, deep down. Of course you do.

But when you are like this, deep in your head space and reduced to a breeding sow gagging for dick, it is difficult to remember that you are nothing else but a trophy for him.

Bokuto tells you to squeal—and you obey. Simple as that.

His cock digs into your hole, spreading you so wide you are sure you are going to tear right through the middle. You don’t know when he stops existing as Bokuto in your mind and becomes your owner; domineering, possessive and belittling.

“Gonna put some little babies in you, yeah? Get your belly so swollen you can only waddle around.”

The words settle like hot coals in your belly, burning through you and sparking electric and delicious at the tips of your nipples. Bokuto can be really mean to you when he is angry. And while you are scared of his wrath, his words only serve as the fuel for your slippery slide down the slope. “Have to piss standing up because you’d not be able to get back up by yourself.”

You groan low—more a gurgle, really—and helplessly clench down on the big fat dick fucking into you. With everything compounded, you feel hot and suffocated. He’s fucking destroying you from the inside out, starting at your poor womb that will get massively dilated by the time he is done with what he is going to put into you.

Because that’s what you’re meant to be. He wants you to be waddling around with your holes sloppy and gaping from that massive dick of his you regularly get. Think about the others seeing you like that and knowing exactly that you’re nothing more than a disgusting breeding sow, made to be pumped full of his cum.

He fucks you like a beast and you grunt with every filling of his dick you receive. You can feel his balls swinging between your thighs; full and ripe, ready to fill you up until your belly is distending and your guts are gurgling with the cum he’s filling you with.

He increases his pace and you’ve never felt more animalistic; he groans deep and drawn-out, his hands cupping your belly to feel it starting to bulge with the sheer amount of cum he’s flooding your with while your eyes roll up into your head and your tongue is lolling out, drooling onto your chin, undignified and animalistic.

When he pulls out, it is not smooth. Even the head of his cock is big, and despite the massive spread of your pussy lips, it gets caught behind it anyway and needs to be dragged out with a humiliating wet pop like a plug getting pulled.

His cum immediately starts flowing as you can’t help but bear down, knees bending and clit pulsating needy and ripe between your thighs when the warm mess slides down your thighs as if you had pissed yourself in your excitement.

You don’t notice much of what is going on around you, not when he unclasps the thing from your neck and wrists, until big hands carefully touch you and turn you around into his big arms.

He carefully pats your cheek with a wide fingertip until you blearily blink open your eyes that feel glued-shut from the tears.

His anger should have dissipated by now, because there is a spark of affection in his bright, gold eyes and he nods before cradling you closer to his wide chest with one arm as the hand of the other descends between your thighs.

He’s gentle as his massive fingers slide into your cunt, fucking you slow and gentle while his thumb presses just this side of pleasurable against your swollen clit, dragging painfully tight circles into it until your body is strung tight as a bow string again, your teeth clenched together, sharp little nails digging into his huge forearm.

He keeps at it until you come, messy and loud, crying out as you jerk in his secure hold and gets everything wet as you squirt and he fucks you through it all.

Afterwards he holds you close, warming you with his massive body as he gently rocks you and leans his cheek against your forehead.

Bokuto can be awfully affectionate like that.

And that’s the only sign you need to see that he adores you just as much as you trust him… so far. But trust and security is different from love, and you’re not sure if you will ever be able to. He’s your owner and nothing more, and you’d be naive to think otherwise.

—

Even though you’ve grown accustomed to his presence as well as your new life in the estate, you still tense at the sound of his footsteps as they draw closer and closer over the floor.

You are still not sure about just how much you are allowed to see—your every question in that regard is easily ignored.

By now, you are more eager—as much as that makes you loathe yourself to admit it. You begin to anticipate his visits, lying on your back on the lush mattress he equips your room with and fucking your hole with your fingers as fast as you can without getting a cramp in his arm.

Your loud whimpers suffuse the air and bring an indulgent, broad grin onto Bokuto’s face as soon as he finally emerges in the doorjamb.

“So eager, my feather,” he purrs, slowly collapsing the stick in itself. He strolls casually to where you are wriggling on the sheets, and you turn your face away from him, subsequently baring your throat. Predictably, a large hand finds it without problem as if that’s the only thing his eyes are focused on.

“Are you ready this time?” he rumbles, the deep voice making you shiver and your nipples tighten into sensitive, little nubs. You wet your lips with a quick tongue, legs spreading wide for the hand stroking down his throat, between the valley of your breasts and down your abdomen, in order to vanish between your legs. A soft whine escapes you as he circles your hole, sensitive from getting fucked so often, before one of his fingers dips inside alongside your own fingers, making you strain and gasp.

“Is this… is this going to be the last time?” It is your standard question—almost like a ritual by now. It’s familiar to you like the broad length of Bokuto’s cock was, spreading you open and fucking you breathless. “Are you going to let me go after this?”

His lips stretch into another smile, his free hand stroking over your hair like a parent consoling their child.

“I told you I will breed you full,” he coos—just like always, seems like he’s in a good mood today. “Can’t let anyone see my little toy if she’s not well-bred now, can I?” He seems to take amusement in your predicament, setting you on edge, the humiliation driving ever deeper because you know you could do nothing against it.

You huff, ready to turn around and present your ass on all fours, but…

“Not this time. Stay just like that, beautiful.” Bokuto leans down, his voice—impossibly—dropping even lower as he slides onto the bed and between your thighs; still clothed.

He huffs a laugh, his tactile fingers sliding along your inner thighs, gently rubbing on the lips of your puffy, stretched hole, then curling two fingers inside you.

Your body is moving on its own—hips curling up into his stroking hand. You hate it. You love it.

“Have you been waiting long?” Bokuto asks in amusement, opening his own pants and drawing out that length that makes your mouth water and your hole clench in anticipation. Endorphins rush through your body, making you tingly and needy to be filled with nothing but his cock and cum.

You’ve already been trained so well by now… and from Bokuto’s triumphant grin, he is obnoxiously proud about it. Can’t wait to show you off and brag to his friends about his sweet little plaything; his trophy toy.

He leans down, his deep breaths ghosting along your collarbone. The fact that Bokuto likes your scent the most—he told you himself—and he likes to breathe you in while sucing on your neck, the artery there, feeling the pump of your blood there—is just as arousing as it is intimidating.

“You are... exquisite,” he whispers against your bare neck, dripping the words onto you like they were poetry even as the head of his cock slowly breaches you. You gasp—every time surprised at the fact that you could prepare yourself as much as you liked… Bokuto’s cock will still split you open and make you feel so fucking vulnerable.

“I will groom you to perfection.”

You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as his hips snap forward, driving himself in deep with the first thrust. He could feel tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, but whether from how much it burns (it still does, and you love it) or from the fact that he so casually tells you about his plans to corrupt you… you cannot tell. You don’t even want to tell.

You whimper, arms and legs curling around him, drawing him closer as he leisurely fucks you, his tongue and teeth scraping over your throat and collarbone.

“You are going to be the best there is.” Bokuto raises his head, mouthing along the line of your jaw. “Everyone else is going to wish that you’re theirs,” he sounded entirely too smug for that sentence, “but you’re mine. I own you. ”

You can feel Bokuto’s muscles flexing where your calves lay on his sides. He is so broad, so huge that you can barely wrap your whole body on him and yet… and yet…

Fuck, your whole body is primed to him. To this man brimming with strength and vitality and intellect.

Bokuto is the perfect owner to breed anyone… and your body welcomes him greedily—needy hole opening up despite the burn of the entry; just swallowing that cock again and again, clinging sweetly as if it loathes to let him out on every second stroke.

He laughs—low and painfully happy as if he has read your thoughts. The sound rumbles through his chest and directly into you, your toes curling and feet scrabbling at the backs of his thighs, fingernails scratching along his back as your lust spirals higher, soft sounds of satisfaction spilling out of your throat, no matter how hard you try to hold them back.

“Open up for me,” Bokuto whispers right into your ear—his voice sweet and deadly like poison. “Open up, sweet thing. Take it… take me.”

The last word is rasped in a low rumble—more carnal than human as he thrusts more harshly, grinding deep into you and making you cry with your head thrown back. You hear the breathy, rasping chuckle of him filling you up good and proper.

You love how satisfied you feel at being a good bitch for him.

—

Afterwards, when Bokuto is gone, you realize your face is wet. You think you must have been sweating more than you thought.

Yes. That’s it.

#bokuto smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #yakuza!bokuto #tw dubcon #.bokuto!#.fics!

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quokkacore · 3 years

Text

lost and found [bang chan]

summary: looking for your soulmate is difficult to do when you’re also looking after your daughter. but on a chance shopping trip, when you lose her, you end up finding her, and your soulmate, whose soft smile and cute dimples offer a lot of promise.

pairing: musician!chan x singlemom!reader

genre: soulmates au, slice of life, meet-cute, holiday special-ish?, fluff, minor angst towards the beginning.

warnings: brief mentions of kidnapping, language, eating

song rec: exo - wait // chen - shall we?

word count: 2.1k

a/n: helena writing something that isnt angsty or smutty? apparently thats possible. december is gonna be pure winter fics says the girl who lives in a country where its SUMMER but go off and i’m posting a two part exo fic tht i’m rlly excited for on christmas eve and christmas day, so pls look forward to tht ^^

It only took a minute. It felt like even less. You turned your head to look for a sales employee, and let go of your 4 year old daughter’s hand to grab the hand she was holding onto to look through the shirts you were going through. Your eyes and hands were off of Annie for the briefest of moments, and when you reached out again, when you turned your head to look downward… gone. Like the wind.

That had been ten minutes ago. Now, you were wandering around the department store like you had gone crazy. To a certain degree, you had. Don’t panic if you lose sight of your kid, all the parenting articles had said. So naturally, you were doing exactly that. Once your mind got the gears turning, it was hard to get them to stop. Your inner pessimist was already whispering to you, what if she left the building? What if some creep snatched her up? What if she had gotten hurt?

Why couldn’t you have just stayed home on your day off? Why did you have to decide to haul yourself and your daughter along to the mall to do your holiday shopping today? You were immediately beginning to regret every decision you’d made in the past few hours, tears prickling in your eyes and a lump beginning to grow in your throat.

You wondered vaguely if she’d left the department store and was now wandering around the mall. That could be an entirely different possibility. You’d gone around the department store twice now, not seeing a single sight of her. Your grip tightened on her winter coat—which she had given to you when it got too warm for her from being inside—and started looking for a security guard instead. Maybe they could call out to the other security guards in the mall and keep a lookout.

Just as you spotted one, beginning to think of what you could say to give a physical description—her hair and eye color, which were both the same as your own, the red t-shirt she had on, the jeans, her height—a notification bell rang throughout the department store on the speaker system.

“To Annie’s mom, Y/N,” The woman on the PA system said, “Your daughter is at the help desk at the north entrance of the building.”

A swell of relief swept through you as she repeated the announcement one more time, and your feet, of their own volition, started towards the exit of the department store. What a fucking relief. You had entered toward that side of the building; meaning, yes, she’d left the store, but she hadn’t gone too far. Your heart was racing, sprinting towards the entrance. Your eyes darted back and forth, desperately waiting for the desk to come into sight as you rounded the corner.

When you turned, your eyes caught sight of your little girl, Annie, standing in front of the desk, teary-eyed, next to a young man in a black hoodie, watching her quietly. Your feet sped up, and when you were about fifteen feet away from the desk, your daughter turned her head to the sound of quick feet making a mad dash across the floor. Her eyes widened, and her little feet shot in your direction. “Mommy!”

She ran up to you, and you crouched to grab her in your arms, engulfing her in a hug that felt like it was more for your sake than for hers. You could feel a giant weight falling off of your shoulders as he sniffled against your shoulder. You found yourself having to blink tears out of your eyes. Pulling away a few seconds later, you wiped away a stray tear trickling down your little girl’s cheek.

“Honey, you can’t just walk away from me like that,” You murmured shakily, “I was so worried.”

“‘M sorry, mommy,” She sighed in a small voice, lower lip wobbling. Your heart clenched at how upset she was, and you put your hand on her cheek to calm her down. “Wanted t’go look at the toys. But I didn’t see you ‘nymore after.”

You sighed, pursing your lips. “I’m so glad you’re safe. How did you find your way to the desk?”

Annie turned her head, wide eyes fixing on the man in the oversized hoodie. Dark, frizzy curls paired with eyes of the same color, warm and welcoming, watching your interaction with his elbow propped up against the desk. “He helped me. Showed me where t’go.”

Your eyes met the man’s, and you stood slowly, holding onto Annie’s hand. You made your way over to him, flashing him a small friendly smile. “Annie says you helped her find her way here? I can’t thank you enough. I was this close to losing my mind.”

He let out a quiet laugh, nodding sympathetically. “I can imagine,” He replied, revealing a deep Australian accent, “I remember when I was a kid, my little sister got lost at the supermarket. My mum just ‘bout went nuts looking for her, and she was only missing for like five minutes. When I saw your daughter all alone, I got this horrible feeling, and I remembered my mum… I couldn’t just leave her there, y’know?”

You laughed. “Kids,” You sighed warmly, “You can’t take your eyes off of them, not even for a second. But honestly, thank you, uh, Mr…?”

He smiled, and as your other turbulent emotions began to subside, you realized he was insanely cute, taking note of his rosy, heart-shaped lips and his dimple. “Bang Chan. Uh, but just Chan is fine! Really.”

“Chan,” you repeated, your smile growing. You turned your head to look down at Annie. “And, what do we say to Chan for helping you, Annie? Sweetie...?”

But she didn’t seem to be listening to you. She was too busy gawking at your hand, which was holding onto her little one. You furrowed your brows, eyes falling to where she was looking, before your mouth fell open.

This was the last thing you were expecting, you thought, as your eyes fell upon the red string tied around your finger, eyes trailing forward, forward, until they made their way to Chan’s index finger, and then even further, meeting Chan’s eyes, which were wide as saucers. Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting this either.

“Mommy,” Annie said, confused, “That string just showed up out of nowhere. Like magic!”

It was your turn to not answer now, too in shock, blinking stupidly at Chan, who was doing the same. It felt like an out of body experience, unable to stop your mouth from gaping like a fish, while watching you and this ridiculously charming, handsome-for-absolutely-no-reason man come to the realization that the universe had tied you together, quite literally.

“I-I…” You choked out, unable to speak. Oh my god, you idiot, you thought, say something! Don’t just stare!

“Mommy.” Annie’s free hand was tugging on your long, brown winter coat now, which snapped you out of your idiotic gawking. You looked down at her, and her eyes were glittering with excitement. “The string! ‘S’the one you told me about last week! Th’one that shows up when you meet your… your… snow mate!”

That seemed to truly snap you out of it, for some reason, and you let out a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“Annie, I think you mean soulmate.”

“Yeah, that!” She started jumping up and down, and your face grew a crooked smile. You looked back at Chan, who was watching the interaction warmly. His eyes met yours when he realized you were looking at him, and he smiled at you in a way that made your heart do an anxious little tap dance, like he had known you for years and wanted to catch up.

In a way, it was true.

“So…” You said, “You said your name was Chan?”

He giggled a little at your breathless tone, and you grinned giddily. You felt like a teenager. It was honestly a bit embarrassing.

“You wanna get some lunch? My treat.” He sounded insistent, but his eyes were still creased up with his welcoming smile. “I insist.”

“What are the odds?” You asked with a smile, having finished your lunch—some pizza from the mall Chan had insisted on paying for—a few minutes ago, now watching Annie run around over on the indoor playground with some other kids there. Chan was sitting across from you at the table. “The last thing I was expecting was to find you, y’know?”

“I think there was a higher priority on your list of things you needed to find at the moment.”

“Ha, ha,” You deadpanned, “You’re hilarious. Tell another one.”

“Alright, what do you call a—”

“No!” You said with a giggle. “I heard enough earlier when you told me the one about the yakuza and the jacuzzi.”

Chan laughed gleefully, resting his chin on his hand. The string had since disappeared—they disappeared some ten minutes after meeting your soulmate. “But really, it is pretty crazy. I read a few weeks ago that only 3 out of every 10 people actually manage to find their soulmates.”

He didn’t respond but his eyes studied your face, gaze fixated on the bridge of your nose. “Call me biased,” He murmured, “But you’re very beautiful.”

You looked down, feeling your face heat up. “Thank you. You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

“Ah, thank you.” It was Chan’s turn to smile bashfully, the tips of his ears turning red. He looked down at his hands, which were on the table. A brief silence settled over the both of you, and you pondered over how he had been during lunch, gentle in his questioning but also incredibly sweet whenever Annie said something or asked a question, and how he always looked genuinely interested in what she had to say.

As a single mom, you never really had time to date. But both times that you given it a try, they didn’t seem to care about Annie or what she had to say. But here, now, Chan had been so happy to explain how he made music when she asked, or let her have the last slice of pizza, and it didn’t come across as disingenuous. It didn’t have the slightly condescending lilt some people put on to talk to younger children. He didn’t speak slowly and loudly, but he was aware that he needed to simplify his language given that she was still a little kid. He took things at her pace, and you could see that Annie warmed up to him instantly.

Still, you were a little wary.

“Look,” You said softly, eyes turning to the playground, looking for Annie. When you found her, chasing a little boy around, you smiled softly. “I’m really excited to have found you, Chan. It’s something I’ve always wanted but never expected. But… y’know, I’m a mom, above everything else. Ever since she was born, Annie’s been, and always will be my number one priority. I need you to understand that.”

You met his eyes again, and they had turned more serious, attentive to your words. “I totally understand that, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to come between you and her, and I don’t expect you to drop everything for me. Especially if it involves Annie.”

“Thank you,” You answered softly, nodding. “It’s hard for her. Her dad and I broke up a few months after she was born, and she sees him maybe once or twice a year. She’s in such an important age for her development, and needs me just as much as I need her, y’know?”

He nodded again, humming in accordance. “Of course. I’m totally willing to wait if you’re not ready yet, or if you want to set certain boundaries for her wellbeing... Whatever you feel is best for her.”

Slowly, his hand made its way to rest on top of yours. He was almost cautious about it, brushing his fingers gently against your knuckles. “You really made my day.” His voice was warm, eyes full of mirth. You smiled. “You made mine too. Because I found my soulmate and you stopped me from having a heart attack by saving the day and finding Annie. I’m never gonna thank you enough for that.”

He laughed. “I’m glad I was able to help. It led me to you.”

Lowering your head as your heart skipped a beat, you looked at his hand on yours, then at Annie, and finally back at him. A rosebud of hope began to bloom in your chest.

Seeing his dimples as his eyes shone, you had a solid feeling it wouldn’t ever wilt.

taglist: @decembermoonskz

#rebootkpopnet #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop scenarios #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #kpop angst #skz angst #stray kids angst #my writing

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squidlyskeet · 3 years

Text

Joy Ride -.006

Pairing: StreetRacer!Bakugou x Fem!reader

Genre: TokyoDrift!au, Noquirks!au

Status: Ongoing

TW: Violence, Blood, firearms, eventual nsfw, 18+, mentions of anxiety and OCD disorders, grand theft auto, gang activity, eventual soft yandere Bakugou.

Summary:

It started with a simple question. “What do you say Y/n? You coming?”

After the sudden death of her mother, Y/n is sent to live with her estranged aunt who made a home in Tokyo, Japan. Weary of what this new adventure might mean for her future, Y/n lets loose for her first night there, but how was Y/n supposed to know it would lead to a car chase? A car chase in the passenger seat of a very angry, very hot, street racer’s super car.

A/n: Bold Italics means the words are spoken in Japanese. -Squidlyskeet ✌🏻✌🏻

💥Bakugou’s POV💥

I parked the car on the road in front of Noels house. I’d been there a few times over the years to meet with Mirio about different jobs and organizing patrols. I was happy that I could finally just get this part of the night done and over with, but sighed heavily as I remembered what the next part of my night would consist of.

I’d probably have to walk on eggshells to avoid a bullet to the head where Mirio and I were going.

I looked over to where Y/N was curled up in my passenger seat. I didn’t want to wake her up, after all she did mention that she just got off a plane this morning. She must be exhausted with jet lag and the events of today. I was also hesitant to try and remove her from the seat and attempt to carry her inside. I was already frustrated with myself for allowing her sweet nature to somehow affect me the way it did, and I didn’t want to make it worse by literally touching her.

And god forbid she wakes up and catches me trying to carry her. Or Mirio. I’d never live it down, and that’s unacceptable. I couldn’t have people thinking I was going soft, or worse that I was going soft for some dumb girl.

Maybe I should just open the door and kick her out.

Nah, that’s douch-

“What the fuck are you doing man?” Mirio’s voice was directly outside my window and I jumped, whipping my head to the side and preparing to throw my body in front of Y/n’s.

I could feel my blood pressure rise when I realized it was just the overgrown oaf, and my face flushed with anger at the intrusion while I was trying to focus.

I was pissed he caught me overthinking about carrying Y/n inside too.

“Nothing you baboon idiot.” I whisper screamed back, trying to keep the peacefully sleeping Y/n undisturbed.

She seemed to be full of curious questions, and the last thing I needed was her asking where I was headed in some kind of dumb attempt to feign worry about me. I also just didn’t want to have to lie to her, she seemed so..free and pure. Free of the darkness that wrapped around and tainted my life with an endless string of one complication after the next. One death after the next. One lonely night after the next.

I felt like if I lied to her about something, even after only knowing her for this short period of time, I’d sully her innocence. Darken that lightness that she let shine so brightly for me tonight. That’s why I couldn’t see her in anything but passing again after this, I couldn’t risk letting myself dwell on the stir she created in my stomach. I had to leave at least one thing in my life untainted.

I growled at my own thoughts, not understanding why I couldn’t just let this sappy shit go. It wasn’t like she was some kind of friend to me, hell I’d only known her for one night.

That didn’t change the fact that she had gotten a reaction out of me anyways, even being the irrelevant extra she is.

“Alright then, let me grab Y/n and go give Noel a kiss goodbye and I’ll be back out so we can go.” Mirio replied, unphased by my obvious disrespect to him.

It never irritated him, and it got under my skin. Usually this kind of shit would progress when we were together, and it would get to the point where Mirio and I would spar into the late hours of the night. Each of us trying to prove something to the other.

He that I couldn’t push people around whenever I wanted to get what I want, and I that even if it was still fifty fifty between us, that I could still wipe the floor with his oversized ass. Even if it was only half the time.

“Tch. Whatever.” I replied, watching from the corner of my eye as he rounded the car and quietly opened Y/n’s door.

He gently picked her up, one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. I had to suppress a growl, words that I knew would only cause problems threatening to spew out my mouth like word vomit.

I was mad at myself, had I known she was such a heavy damn sleeper I would have just done it myself when I first got here.

My eyes laser focused when he stood straight and Y/n’s limp sleeping body -my hoodie still draped over her- almost slipped from his hand around her back and I jumped. I knew logically that I was still in the driver's seat and could do nothing if he actually did drop her. That didn’t stop the irritation at myself for not just doing it myself, where I could make sure she made it safely inside.

He quickly adjusted his hold, and frowned.

“What’s the matter with you dumbass, be careful with her.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and he raised his brows at me.

“I was, she is just sleeping like a rock. I wasn’t expecting her to flop around like a noodle. Man she must have been tired,” He started laughing quietly, shaking his head as he turned and started walking inside. He paused, turning his head to the side to say something else, voice suddenly serious. “Start my car for me.”

More code terms.

I sent him an okay sign, and forced thoughts of Y/n out of my mind. Trying to get into the headspace I needed, I got to work.

I waited until the door shut behind Mirio to exit the car. I knew she was sleeping but I wanted to make absolutely certain Y/n didn’t see anything.

I swung my door open and rounded the car to the trunk, I looked around before opening it, and then opening the false bottom.

When someone from the Side Riders said ‘start my car’ they didn’t really mean for you to start their car. In fact it was considered disrespectful to get in the driver's seat of someone else’s ride, let alone start it. What it really meant was to make sure you're locked and loaded, ready to defend yourself and your territory.

It was meant as a way to let your squad know that you didn’t know what you were rolling into, coded to make sure no one caught on that whoever was riding with you was strapped to the teeth with weapons.

I sighed as I looked down at the cubby beneath the false bottom, debating on what gun I’d use in case things went south. I knew I should pick something small, but before I could even try to convince myself, my hand was reaching for the heavy fire power of the automatic rifle.

I held the box of ammo when I heard the door open again. I quickly held the gun out of sight when I looked up, sighing in relief to find it was only Mirio. I could tell he was switching his mindset to work mode, the usual warmth of his features melting into a dark, unforgiving grimace. The cold emotionless depths of his eyes was an expression I was familiar with. I stared at it everyday in the mirror.

“You strapped?” The wording reminded me of when he asked if Y/n was strapped correctly into my passenger seat. She was, I checked. Eight times.

My chest warmed, thinking of her struggling to get the damn things unbuckled.

*a/n: it’s safe to say everything from this point on will be spoken in Japanese without bold italics*

I sighed at the memory, because, this time he was talking about weapons.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” I replied, as I finished loading the rifle and closed the trunk.

His only acknowledgement was a flick of his wrist as he started toward his car. I made my way back to my own, opening the door and placing the gun barrel down on my passenger seat floor.

I hadn’t noticed before when I was in the car, but after getting out and then back in it hit me full force. It smelled like her. I tried not to think about how the smell of vanilla and lavender tea left a haze clouding my mind. I also refused to acknowledge the deep breaths I was taking while I pushed in the clutch and pressed the start button on the dash.

We started our engines at the same time, usually the sound did nothing but bring me peace and excitement. This time though, I cringed. The force of the cars starting shook the ground with a deep rumble, and I glanced at the house making sure no lights flicked on.

When I was sure she was still passed out, I fiddled with the screen on my dash, putting on some music and waiting for Mirio to pull off the road ahead of me.

I had a thought then and allowed self indulge, even for just a moment.

How did that song she put on go?

I hummed it to myself, as I tried to remember the English words.

Oh, yeah.

I typed it into the search bar and pressed play.

The deep soothing beats pumped from my speakers as Mirio finally pulled away from the curb.

I followed him, unsure of what exactly we were getting ourselves into but ready for anything.

————————————————————————-

Thirty minutes later, after Monoma joined us somewhere along the way, we pulled into an open parking lot surrounded by abandoned warehouses on all sides. My guard immediately went up as I followed Mirio to the already parked cars sitting in the middle.

All of them blacked out and all of them with a red rose emblem on the side.

Except one.

The gaudy car in the middle seemed so out of place with all the rides built for racing surrounding it. While ours were expensive, they were built for racing. This one was built for the rich, made to sit in the lap of luxury and look good doing it.

It was a show, put on to try and intimidate us but I refused. The fact that they would even try had rage building under my skin, and it was almost unbearable to contain when I noticed the men of the Yakuza leaning against their hoods, all with a weapon of some sort.

I pulled up and parked next to Mirio, Monoma following me and doing the same. I looked through our windows asking Mirio a silent question, he shook his no. I was mad, but I trusted his judgement and quietly accepted as I released my grip on the stock of the rifle.

I opened my door and got out, I made a show of a leisure walk. Hands behind my head and a smirk on my face, I knew without looking that both Mirio and Monoma flanked my left and right sides. No matter the smallest of differences or rivalry’s, brothers never step to their enemies alone.

“Well? Where is he?” I asked, my tone coming out a lot more relaxed than I felt.

One of the men nodded his head at whoever was in the passenger seat. I tried to see if it was him, but I couldn’t see past the tinted windows.

A man stepped out of the drivers, rounding the car to the back seat facing us. The boss’s bodyguard. Shoji Mezo. A towering man, muscles stacked on each other like a brick wall.

Man, I hope he said something stupid. I’d love to take a crack at him.

He pulled open the door, and to my surprise, a heeled foot stepped out onto the pavement first. My mood instantly darkened when I realized who it was. Why was this bitch everywhere tonight?

“Hello Katsu.” Her greeting was a soft purr as she addressed me with the nickname she gave me all those years ago. I felt my face twist into a sneer before I forced myself to relax as she stepped out of the car fully.

She had changed out her red ensemble from earlier tonight into some gaudy sparkly evening dress, if you could call it that, that is. The fabric hugged her curves tightly, and asymmetrical cut outs flaunted most of her tanned unblemished skin.

I was happy to find I didn’t have a reaction to it anymore.

This was just another one of his dramatics, a way for the boss to try and exert some kind of nonexistent dominance of me. I couldn’t let it get to me.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it Katsu? You’re looking extra delicious tonight..” Her sickly sweet voice dripped with sarcasm.

It disgusted me that for two long years, I let that same condescending tone lead me around like a lost puppy. Now that I had been out of the relationship for a year, I could see where I went wrong. I let her soft words and her curves distract me from her actions.

“Camie.” I greeted back with a slight bow of my head, keeping my voice cold and detached.

“Camie darling, what have I told you about playing with the help.” A deep voice called from behind her.

“Oh Tenny baby, it’s nothing to worry about, I was just having some fun.” She replied, as she worked her acting skills on the Boss getting out of the car.

“Bakugou, Togata, Monoma. How are my favorite squad leaders tonight?” He asked, a false pretense at friendship.

Tenya Iida.

Leader and boss of the Tokyo Yakuza, and squad leader of the South Side Riders.

He wore a three piece pinstripe suit, and expensive loafers. His face was tense and his strong jawline was clenched, which proved my point further at his false friendliness.

“Boss.” The three of us said in unison. A deeper bow given by all of us.

I hated saying the word out loud or admitting that he was above me in any way. To not show respect though, would result in an immediate death execution style. While I was more than willing to put Iida in his place, I couldn’t do much with my only defense still sitting on my passenger seat floor.

“Does anyone want to tell me why you are here tonight?” He spoke up again, not acknowledging our greeting.

I guess we were getting right into it.

None of us answered.

All of us knew better than to assume.

It really lit a fire under my ass that I had to stand here and act like the man standing before me was some kind of royalty. He was my age for christ’s sake.

“No one has anything? Let me break it down for you then,” He started toward us, clearing the space between the gap in a few strides before stopping in front of Mirio. “Tonight while you trash we’re out in your little race cars, having a pissing match on who is the fastest one of my warehouses was raided.” He said, his expression one of complete calm.

We still didn’t speak up.

While I knew I couldn’t say anything, I never let my gaze leave his face. Silently challenging his authority with my uninterrupted glare.

“No one has anything to say then?” His arms raised in amusement as he turned back around to address his men. “Did you hear that guys? No one has anything to say.” He was laughing as he said it.

Before he whipped his body around, his arm flying through the air with his fist clenched. It landed on Mirio’s face with a sickening crack. He didn’t knock the man over, no I don’t think Iida could even if he wanted to. While it was a hard hit, his form was sloppy and wasn’t well placed. Mirio’s probably taken more painful hits from Noel, if I’m being honest.

I did my best to hide my snicker that escaped at the thought.

“I’m sorry? Was there something you wanted to say Bakugou?” He addressed me then, blank features finally cracking into a sneer.

“Well I-.” I was cut off abruptly when another one of Iida’s fists came flying at my face.

I saw it coming from a mile away, but had to stand there and take it as I didn’t want an entire team of trained henchmen actively trying to murder me.

I was right when I said it was a hard hit. His fist made contact with my right eye socket, and it sent my head flying backwards. Pain instantly throbbed through my skull, but I’d die before I ever let it show to this dumpster fire.

Mirio had the same idea as he didn’t even hold his nose that was currently gushing blood.

“What about you Monoma? Care to explain?” He asked the third member of our group, who, like an obedient dog, lowered his eyes and kept silent.

I wanted to scoff but the thought of being on the receiving end of another hit right to the eye kept the sound inside my throat. Iida nodded his head and backed up a few paces, talking to all of us at once.

“If I find out that you little street rats had something to do with this, especially if your little dick measuring contest was being shut down as some kind of distraction,” He cracked his knuckles before rubbing them, letting me know that the punches probably hurt him just as bad as us. “I’ll kill you and every single member of your families.”

He paused before looking back up at me.

“I also want that car painted Bakugou, you were on the news tonight. Making headlines in that god awful orange machine you call a car. I want it parked back at the shop and it better not fucking move again until it’s a different color. I can’t have the police after us every fucking time an orange sports car was spotting going 200mph plus.” I gritted my teeth at his words.

Who in the fuck did this extra think he was. The orange was practically a fucking trademark, I was about to let loose on him when he smirked.

He could tell I was struggling to keep my mouth shut. Just like him though, he had to add the gasoline to my already burning hot inferno.

“Also..Bakugou?,” He stopped walking back to his car to turn to me one more time. “Who was that adorable little thing in the Nav seat you had with you?”

Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t fucking react Katsuki.

“Just some Nav Hoe who wanted a good time.” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. My heart thundered in my chest.

He knew he had me, but all he did was smirk and grab Camie by the waist while getting into his car.

Iida popped back around the door, his features cold and distant, expecting full attention.

“I forgot to mention I have a job for you in a few days, if one of my patrons doesn’t fork up twenty thousand by then.” He flicked his wrist in dismissal.

Shoji slammed the door shut behind them, and got into the driver's seat. The rest of the men followed suit, a chorus of doors slamming and motors starting.

I held my breath until the last of the cars rumbled away from us. Not one of us moved until the opulent parade was out of sight.

“FUCKK.” I screamed, pulling at my hair and finally releasing the breath I held inside.

“Shit man. Shit shit shit. Noel is gonna kill me. Like literally slaughter me. That was her only stipulation. That Y/n was to go unnoticed.” Mirio’s own hands were carding through his blonde tresses as he started pacing back and forth.

“That’s really what you guys are worried about?” Monoma finally spoke up, his usual taunting features pinched tight in concern.

“He’s onto us. He fucking saw straight through that little plan you put together Mirio.” Monoma added.

“He’s only suspicious, so just calm the hell down you psycho. If he would have known for sure, we would be dead right now.” I shot back at him.

“We stick to the plan. We’ll keep taking down his warehouses. We just have to figure out a way to do it without looking so obvious next time. We’ll try something else other than staging a race. There Has to be other ways” Mirio was arguing with himself more than us, but it pissed me off nonetheless.

“Why’d you even fucking bring Y/n to that stupid race, Mirio. You knew it would get shut down in the first place. You were the one who called the damn race chasers.” I yelled at him, needing to take some frustrations and place the blame before it exploded inside me.

“Her mom just died. She literally just hopped off a plane from across the country this morning. Noel and I just wanted to cheer her up a little. How the hell were we supposed to know it would turn into this,” He stopped pacing and turned to face me, fists clenched. He was obviously pissed too. “And if you wanna start throwing around accusations, why the hell did you fucking agree to let her be your Navigator?” Mirio’s teeth were clenched while he pointed a finger at me.

“Hey guys-“ Monoma tried to cut in before I shoved his skinny frame to the side, pointing back into Mirio’s face.

“Shouldn’t she be mourning or something then rather than be at an illegal race? I tried not allowing her into the car, but Kaminari threatened to call Tenya if I didn't,” My anger was reaching a peak, but I tried to keep it under wraps. “I couldn’t exactly explain to him why that would have been a bad idea, seeing as we literally had plans for the police to shut down the race. Why didn’t you just make her get out of the car? You were standing right there. You could’ve just taken over and forced her to stay. YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE CHASED DOWN BY A HELICOPTER, AND YOU LET HER COME ANYWAYS YOU DUMB FUCK.” I screamed, I was trying to keep my cool but panic was gripping my throat.

I knew I needed to calm down before it got out of hand, but the thought of Tenya Iida taking an interest in Y/n had me entirely on edge.

“Well I couldn’t exactly throw tradition to the wind in front of an entire outfit of Riders Bakugou, the south side was watching. If I had given her the exception it would have caused Iida to notice her,” He stepped closer to me, face to face. “Which fucking reminds me.”

“WHAT A FAT FUCKING LOAD OF GOOD THAT DI-,” My sentence was cut off by a flying fist to the face.

Unlike Tenya Iida’s, Mirio’s perfectly formed uppercut had my entire body flying backwards. This hit hurt a lot more than the sissy punishment Iida tried to dole out.

“Son of a bitch-that hurt.” I groaned, holding my nose that thankfully still felt unbroken. The blood gushing from it was an entirely different story, as it flooded my nostrils and dripped onto my shirt.

“That’s for putting Y/n’s life at risk. You probably scared the little chick half to death.” Mirio explained.

I almost smirked, thinking back to the thousand watt smile stretched across her beautiful face as I pushed my car a little harder than I felt like I ever had. Experimenting to see if her smile would grow if I went faster. It did.

I huffed as I just sat my ass right on the ground. Mirio and Monoma followed suit shortly afterward, I could feel the tension leave my body as exhaustion creeped in. I could fall asleep right here on the ground if they would let me. I knew they wouldn’t though. If for no other reason than because I had orders to paint my car.

I turned to look back at it, she needed body work after tonight’s escapades. So at least I could fix those. It caused a pang of hurt to flow through me. I painted it orange for a reason, my mom loved the color. It was her favorite and while she hated that I followed in her footsteps, especially when she found out I’d be a squad leader, she loved my car. Sometimes I’d go to the home she was in and take her out on a Sunday stroll.

How would anyone recognize me? How would Y/n recognize me? I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t see her personally again but how would she know it was me, passing her on the street, or watching me race.

I growled. I wouldn’t give up the orange entirely, but I’d still follow orders.

“So what do we do now?” Monoma spoke up again, trying to find a solution for our very real, very big problem.

“Well, obviously throwing the race did no good to try and prove that we had nothing to do with the warehouse raids. I figured that if he saw we were at a race, and that it was shut down and covered by the news he would see that we were too busy to be leaking information to the police. Or that he’d come to his own conclusion, and he was still suspicious, as he very well should be, but he doesn’t need to know that.” Mirio said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“We’ll regroup and come up with a better plan when we are all not dead on our feet. We all just need to shower and get some sleep, we’ll figure out a new plan afterwards,” I stated, effectively shutting down the conversation with no reluctance from the peanut gallery. “What are we going to do about Y/n? He’s obviously noticed her, and he’ll try something. If not for anything else but to get under my- our skin. He doesn’t know why, but he knows she’s important.” I continued, this was one topic that we had to make a plan for as soon as possible.

“Well you know I have close eyes on Noel all the time, I have her with me almost constantly, and when I don’t I have my men follow her. She doesn’t know the last part so don’t say anything, but we’ll need something like that with her. I’d do it myself, but I already have my hands full with Noel. There aren’t many other people I trust with something like this.” Mirio’s example was perfect, we’ll assign her an escort.

Another term used by the Riders. Essentially a bodyguard that protects, with just a few more duties than what that job usually consists of. Making sure they know where the person is at all times, being their own personal driver, running errands if they need it, and in worst case scenarios, slaughtering potential threats.

Usually you could tell which of the Riders were escorts and which ones weren’t. The Riders who had names on the passenger seat headrests were the ones to look out for. It was a way to let others know they had someone they’d kill for, and wouldn’t hesitate to do so if the need for it arose.

The job was usually only taken up officially by the Riders who had significant others, being their escort and doing so willingly and happily. It was a tiring job, one that demanded constant vigilance and a lot of times undivided attention. I’d know, I did it for Camie for two years, before I caught her on her knees with a mouth full of Tenya Iida that is.

The sudden hurt I felt as the memory flashed in my head surprised me. I hated the feeling and anger flashed in my heart just as it did back then when I walked in on it. It wasn’t Camie per se that caused my hurt, it was more the fact that I’d put aside my hostility for someone. I’d practically dedicated my life to someone, spending all my time, my money, and my sanity trying to please another person, only for them to turn around and pull some shady bullshit like that?

The spending money part wasn’t necessarily a rule you had to follow, but Riders made obscene amounts of money racing, and doing jobs for the Yakuza. Riders had a tendency to spend a lot of money, unafraid to blow thousands on their rides, why wouldn’t they do so on the person important enough to them that they would be their escort.

“I do the same with Kendo, so I can’t offer up my services with her either.” Monoma’s words brought me back to reality, and away from thoughts of remembering the hell that was being Camies escort.

“What about Amajiki?” Mirio said.

I immediately felt my temper flare again, thinking back to when Y/n asked me if I thought Amajiki would let her be his Navigator. My mind shut it down almost as quickly as I shut her down.

“You’re gonna entrust her care with that shaking leaf of a man? Not to mention that he’s rolled two cars in the last year?” I questioned the burly man sitting next to me.

“You’re right, he wouldn’t know what to do. How about anyone on your squad?” He inquired, still deep in thought.

My brain picked out all the people I would even consider letting Y/n be protected by. Only three came to mind.

Kirishima, Deku, and Sero, maybe if you squinted Shoto.

Kirishima was immediately out, as he was waiting to escort someone else. A tiny little foreign girl who worked at a bakery or something.

Deku was the same, he had Ochako.

Sero, once I thought it over, was out too. He was a playboy, and while I trusted him on my squad I had no intention of letting him near Y/n.

Shoto was a no too, only because the thought of seeing her in his passenger seat made me want to skin that half and half bastard to an unrecognizable degree.

I shook my head in denial at his question, and my mouth moved before I could stop the words from coming out

“I’ll do it.”

Mirio choked on his spit and whipped his head to me, his shell shocked expression giving away his surprise.

“What?”

“Did I stutter? I said I’ll do it. I’ll be Y/n’s escort.” I said, holding in my accusations that he was trying to imply that I wasn’t capable.

“Are you sure? I mean after Camie and all-” Mirio started.

“Y/n isn’t Camie. And we aren’t together. So it makes no fucking difference,” I heaved myself off the ground, walking back to my car with my hands in my pockets. “It’s settled then. I’ll have Kaminari and Shinsou fill in temporarily until I get this fucking car painted and get some sleep.” I said over my shoulder, noticing that both men were on their way back to their own.

“You better take care of her Bakugou, I’ll kill you if you don’t.” I heard Mirio yell to me as he paused before getting into his car.

I nodded my head in acknowledgment sliding into my own drivers seat.

I didn’t say anything out loud, but I silently agreed that if I didn’t I’d let him kill me.

I started my car and looked over to the empty headrest of the passenger seat.

This was such a bad idea.

————————————————

Taglist: @thatonegeekchick @nightlygiggless @garnet-redtailedhero

-Squidlyskeet 👀🙃❤️✨👑

#my hero academia #mha #this took a lot longer than i thought it would #uhgggg #bnha au #bnha fluff #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bnha angst

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gyromitra-esculenta · 3 years

Text

Misery is the Drug in Your Veins 1

Dead Dove Mob/Yakuza AU

Hanzo has a problem threatening Shimada-gumi’s working relationship with Reaper’s organization: the altercation between his shit-for-brains men and Reaper’s kid’s bodyguard that ended with blood spilled. It’s his responsibility to smooth things over and offer an appropriate apology.

Over two years earlier, working deep undercover in Reyes’ family, Jack finds himself with his cover blown and his very life a balancing act on a tightrope.

Warnings: Serious Dead Dove, ncs, dubious/coerced consent, ncs drug use, violence (like people buried alive at night in woods in future or mentions of necklacing), abuse, objectification, ptsd, cptsd, fawning, no-one is objectively good, etc - also Hanzo & Genji being bros.

He should have taken the coat, not just the scarf, Jack thinks, observing the falling snowflakes, big and fluffy. Probably the first snow, too, all poetic and shit. He just needed some space to breathe and clear his mind, if only for a moment - hitching a ride with Amelie and Jesse on their morning trip to the shore seemed like a good idea then, not so much now.

To his left, Amelie speaks into her phone in angry spitfire French. Jack sighs and closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wooden post. Should've taken the coat, he's too fucking cold. Cold enough to shiver.

"Will you die?" Jesse asks and Jack cracks one eye open. He can hear the sirens getting closer - he also feels the blood seeping through the fingers of the hands he keeps pressed to his side - and he's so fucking cold.

"I don't know," Jack answers sincerely, "but Gabe's gonna be angry with me, for sure..."

Jesse nods solemnly and puts his own hands on his - Christ, he's what, seven? The kid's seven, Jack needs to remind himself, and asking him if he's going to die now, and no child should do that ever, but he's just tired and fucking freezing.

It doesn't even hurt anymore and the sirens are getting away.

The car ride through the early winter landscape takes over an hour. The serpentine road leading up the mountain mansion is cleared of snow - and at this point, observing the scenery passing by the window, Hanzo is considering making a damn PowerPoint presentation. If it will save him from this kind of headache in the future, it will be worth it. Maybe he will even delegate the task to Genji. Speaking of whom, as the car turns around and rolls to a stop in front of the mansion, Genji is the first out with a cigarette in his hand.

Hanzo waits for Daichi to open his door.

The air is chilly but not enough for the snow to linger for more than a few days unless the temperature drops further. Hanzo would spend a moment to appreciate it under any other circumstances.

The angry European woman, underdressed for the weather, leans on the banister of the balcony and glares death at them. Another variable Hanzo’s unfamiliar with.

"Get back in the car."

Genji waves his cigarette.

"I just light..."

"The car, now."

Genji swears in a protest but complies. Good. Hanzo needed him to only show his face around, anyway, so it’s known he’s taking the situation with all the seriousness expected.

The woman above raises her chin and turns away from the banister, disappearing from his sight. He's expecting to meet her inside.

Hanzo walks past the first car, nodding to his people as he passes them. The hall is hot, and Hanzo entertains for a moment the notion Americans have absolutely no moderation in anything. He lets Daichi take his coat and leaves him behind in the vestibule, following one of the two guards deeper into the house. Up the stairs, the mercenary lets him into the day room connected to the balcony. Through the glass doors, he can see it's far more spacious than it appears from the outside.

The woman from earlier sits in a wicker chair, drinking something warm from a cup. The kid, dressed more appropriately in a sweater and a cap, plays with toy cars on the floor, pausing once in a while to talk at her - by the movement of the steam above the rim of the cup he can follow her answers.

Hanzo sits down on the couch.

When he was much younger, he believed in all the tall tales of honor, whole-heartedly even, before he had realized it was just a pretty word for bruised egos and petty vendettas of the vain. And as such, the vulgar display of power before him is merely that.

"Shimada," Reaper raises his glass minutely without offering. The whore, half-sitting on the floor with face leaning on his thigh, bound and gagged - thankfully covered with a thrown on yukata - either pretends not to notice the audience or is completely out of it. Hanzo fixates for a moment on a darker patch on Reaper's trousers, obviously wet with drool and gods know what else. He's even marginally curious if the whore's going to be one of those he has to arrange for a discrete cleanup after, one of the obligations of the agreement negotiated by his father, both the supply and the subsequent removal.

"I've become aware of an... incident involving some of my men. I want to extend my sincere apologies and assure you they will be disciplined appropriately."

"Will they?" Reaper sips his drink.

They certainly are already very sorry, is what Hanzo would want to say, since your minder sent all three of them running, and two, in the aftermath, to the urgent care. He settles for the appropriate prostration.

"I will personally ensure a situation like this won’t repeat."

"My property was put at risk."

The negotiation stage, at last. If such a thing ever came to be, Hanzo dearly hoped he himself would never refer to his own child, or their mother, as his property, though he harbors no such futile delusions where his own future is concerned.

"We will offer the customary tribute."

"I demand the full retribution."

"It was a grave mistake but it would be a far too drastic action to undertake."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Shimada," Reaper smiles and inclines forward, setting the glass between them on the table while his other hand pets the whore's hair. He leans back against the couch, pulling at the gripped between his fingers hair, forcing the whore to straighten frantically to follow his movement. One of those gags, Hanzo notes in the back of his mind, watching the man's throat as he seizes and tries to fight for his breath with his changing position. The cloth slips off his frame, revealing the stitches on his left side and the reddened flesh underneath.

It's the distinctive scars that make Hanzo realize he had read the situation wrong, right from the very start. Whatever Reaper sees in his face is enough for him to let go of the man's hair and allow him to fall back against his thigh with a small sound of distress.

Hanzo was never in a position to negotiate.

"I'll arrange for the place and the time."

"See that you do, Shimada."

Halfway down the mountain, Genji finally asks.

"So, what's it gonna be? Fingers?" Hanzo holds his hand out to him and Genji, sighing, gives him his flask. "What, their balls and dicks?"

When Hanzo drinks more before passing the flask back to him, Genji grimaces.

"They just pestered the chick and knifed the hired muscle, that's a bit much."

"Only he wasn't a hired muscle."

"What, some family?"

Hanzo looks out of the window.

"Genji, do you remember, when the old man sent us to pick up the kid from the airport?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The junkie."

Standing outside of the terminal with the kid in his arms and a backpack, with a duffel bag full of money on the ground. Obviously lost and confused, suffering from withdrawal if one knew what to look for, and ready to bolt if anyone as much as tried to approach him - with months-old scars slashed across his face, and another one along the left side of his head, barely hidden under the hair.

And he would run if Hanzo didn't have the foresight to instruct his men to surround him; even made a panicked move before a strange resignation took him over and he quietly followed them to the car - not letting go of the kid even as he tore into the packet Hanzo provided him with and swallowed the pills dry, high as a kite already when they finally arrived at their destination and made the exchange, staying long enough to see him and the kid escorted to the mansion.

"Yeah, what about that one?" Genji flippantly takes a swig from the flask.

"It was him, and he's his woman."

"Shit." Genji meets his eyes, then continues in an unfamiliar display of sympathy. "I'll get everything ready, you just pass the word."

"Thank you." And Hanzo means it.

It's not the first time that Hanzo considers Genji would be a much better fit for the position, if not for his rambunctiousness, and some other quirks seen as weaknesses and not the strengths they were. Nevertheless, it was far more likely it would be Genji providing the heir, either by design or by accident, Hanzo idly thinks by the way of distraction from his current task, which is delivering a signed death warrant on his own men. They were foolish and young, their deaths superfluous, and yet...

The Chinese were good partners if one traded in lives - and Shimada-gumi partook in it - but drugs and firepower were a whole different matter altogether. The triads were unwilling to part with the total control, so if the man who provided the connections and his network wanted a blood tribute, he got the damn blood tribute. Too bad he never got to know what the old man paid for the deal they've inherited, but merely seeing him squirm over it was sure worth the price.

Hanzo sits on the couch just as the maid – Filipino, if he were to guess - finishes pouring the tea into what appears to be his designated cup out of the four on the table. The host is absent, as is the angry European woman; he can put the time it affords him to some use.

The indirect source of his headache is half-lying, half-sitting on the cushions on the floor. The kid, working on a picture, is sitting between the table and his legs. Hanzo observes for a moment, trying to look past the preconceptions and circumstances skewing his perception. The man is relaxed and definitely under the influence, be it painkillers or something else altogether, and except for the initial glance, he ignores Hanzo completely, staring off into space. Hardly frail, in a physical sense of the world. His physique is maintained. A wide bruise that wasn’t there before is circling his neck.

"I don't believe we were introduced," Hanzo clears his throat, extending his hand over the table. "Shimada Hanzo."

The man flicks his eyes at Hanzo's palm before returning to looking at an unspecified point in the air.

"...Jack."

But his lips were forming a different sound at the beginning before Jack apparently caught himself.

"I see," Hanzo puts his hand back on his thigh. "Can I ask you something, Jack?"

Jack shrugs noncommittally, with the accompaniment of subtle clinking.

"Thank you." Hanzo spares a glance to the kid busy adding copious amounts of red crayon to the picture. "This might be an inappropriate discussion for a child."

Jack shrugs again - there's the metallic sound once more - and answers without looking.

"I shot his mother in front of him."

That's... definitely, one way of saying it doesn't matter what's discussed. Hanzo purses his lips, mulling over how to proceed, when the kid puts the crayon back on the table and looks at him.

"Mom killed dad and wanted to kill Jack," the kid smiles and grabs the black crayon this time. Jack at first just stares at the boy, then Hanzo feels his surprised attention on himself as if, somehow, Jack had consciously noticed him only now, biting his lip in what could be apprehension or anxiety. Intriguing, how his focus wavers immediately, prompting Hanzo to continue with caution, to sustain it.

"Can you tell me, Jack, how you got the scars on your face?"

Jack mulls the question over.

"Glass. It was... a window, and the bomb went off..." His voice trails off. Fair enough. The cuts must've been clean and deep, missing both of his eyes by a close margin.

"Jack." The man's wandering gaze snaps back to Hanzo at hearing his name, again. "And the burn on your neck?"

"...gun." Jack doesn't elaborate on it. Hanzo keeps the momentum up and does not push for the information that is not provided freely.

"The scars on the chest, Jack?" As soon as Jack parses the question, the additional nervousness builds up in his shoulders. The metallic clinking is back. He answers with a barely perceptible stutter.

"...Afghanistan."

Either military or mercenary, might be both. Running convoys, possibly; maybe this is the connection Hanzo's looking for to sate his personal curiosity, but the further line of questioning is best saved for later.

"Jack," Hanzo calls the man's wandering attention back to himself, again. "And the scar on the left side of your head, Jack?"

Jack freezes for a moment before both of his hands fly up to cover his hair there - handcuffed and used to it, judging by the flawless coordination - the reddened skin around the wrists has an oily wet shine to it.

"No, it's not visible, Jack," Hanzo finds himself trying to placate him with his open palms showing and reaching over the table. The unexpected manner of an animal gulping air and ready to lash out reminds him of all the times he had to talk Genji down from whatever bad high he'd been on. "I've seen it before. Before. There's nothing to see now, Jack. Nothing."

The change is gradual. Jack's expression settles back into an impassive mask as his hands slowly return to their previous position. Hanzo lets the matter rest, sparing a glance at the kid unperturbed by the incident and happy to be left alone working on his picture.

"I failed to blow my brains out," Jack delivers in a flat voice bereft of any inflection. There's something disturbingly familiar in his words and eyes Hanzo cannot pin down, not now at least, but the impression of the fact that he had seen it somewhere before remains. Puzzle pieces to be assembled together later - if he finds enough of the missing parts to create the image or at least the idea of the image.

"That's all that I wanted to ask, Jack," Hanzo focuses on the cup he reaches for, still feeling the uncomfortable stare of blue eyes bore into him.

Over time, he grew accustomed to the western idea of what tea is - made with much too hot water and too many leaves - and marinated. The one in the cup has a lovely red coloring and smells deeply of tannin. The taste is tart and bitter, with a smidge of sweet fermentation. From the corner of his eye, Hanzo can still see Jack observing him with unnerving intensity. He tries to remain unbothered by it while sipping his tea, idly noting it would be acceptable as a sweetened drink when watered down.

The uncomfortable moment lasts until Jack shifts his whole posture, best described as a scramble to prop himself up on his hands - the reason obvious when the host enters Hanzo's field of vision - the whole of it a ridiculous approximation of a pet reacting to its beloved owner.

As ridiculous as Hanzo's own refusal to refer to the man as 'Reaper' in the confines of his own mind, but the fact some of his people took to calling him 'Shinigami' is even more preposterous, and he will take no part in this absurd game unless otherwise required. And, even being in a position of a supplicant - again - he will not vie for the attention that at the same time he is owed as a guest. The whole situation leaves Hanzo with a substantial quandary to navigate while he goes through the mental list of all the interdependencies. Not for the first time, he's more than curious what the old man had offered his current host in the introductory package - but definitely not the mansion itself. Hanzo had discreetly investigated all the details of the acquisition of the property and nothing came up, except for the fact that it had been allowed to be bought out by a foreigner. If he were to hazard a cautious guess, it almost looked like a cozy retirement plan.

Hanzo sips on his tea, watching the interaction before him play out: at the same time put off and fascinated by it. Jack strains, the corner of his lips Hanzo can see from his vantage point twitches. The position he put himself in must be forcing pressure on the stitches that punches through whatever pain medication - or anything else - he's on. The host takes ahold of his jaw - definitely not a gentle grip but probably not bruising - and pulls him up even higher, enough that Jack now has to brace his palms on the table to keep balance and minimize the strain on his side. Hanzo has the unsettling notion he's being privy to something far too intimate to be displayed during what is basically a business meeting. While he does understand the difference in the sensibilities, this is too much, with how Jack keeps his eyes trained on the man. As soon as the so-far hidden from the view pipette is raised, he opens his mouth obediently.

Hanzo counts three drops, a pause, and then the fourth one like an afterthought. Free from the grip, Jack remains at attention until the host pats his cheek in dismissal. At this, he eases off slowly, sinking down until he rests his forearms on the edge of the table and reaches for his teacup, downing it in a fashion that makes it clear he's trying to get rid of a displeasing taste in his mouth. All things aside, on its own, it is an impressive maneuver to be pulled off while being impaired both by the cuffs and the sustained injury, not to mention the medication. Hanzo makes a note of it, moving Jack up several rungs in his personal risk assessment. He's dangerous, maybe on par with the angry woman, who, at the moment, seems to be absent from the meeting.

"Don't worry about your little earlier chat, Shimada."

Ah. Hanzo had been caught snooping for information, not that he really counted on it to go unnoticed. The question, how much his host, now sitting in front of him, cares about this perceived invasion of privacy.

"He won't remember it."

Apparently, not as much as Hanzo would expect, but another possibility opens: a warning that Jack won't recognize him as an ally down the line. He might be overthinking it. Probably is, and, feeling the warning bells of borderline paranoia, Hanzo glances at Jack now reclining back on the pillows with his eyes half-closed.

The kid remains unbothered by it all, focused fully on his artwork.

"I understand," Hanzo begins, reaching into his front pocket for a card he places face down on the table - keeping his fingers on the laminated paper. "Regarding our previous discussion..." He slides the card towards the host. "I hope the time and the place are acceptable."

The man observes him with the most irritating smirk on his face, barely noticeable but definitely there. It's his frayed nerves, Hanzo decides when the host finally leans forward and he pulls his hand away from the piece of paper, straightening his posture. Only, the man picks up his cup.

"I'm sure there will be no scheduling conflicts for this event."

'Event'. Hanzo will murder his own people in cold blood. Idiots of mythological proportions, true, but still his people. Business oiled with blood, like any other. The loud clack of a crayon put down with force on the table startles him - Hanzo hopes his face doesn't show it. The kid gets up and steps over Jack's legs, going for the cupboards on the other side of the room.

"Did you finish your classes?" The host asks, not breaking the eye contact.

"In the morning," the kid answers as he retrieves what looks to be a handheld game from the drawer before making his way back to the table.

"Okay then." The host smiles, almost fondly. Nodding at that. "Children," he adds as a means of the explanation that's unneeded. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe this was all, unless..." The man sets the cup back - untouched - and rises from the couch. Hanzo mimics him, struck by the sheer rudeness of it: another garish display of the imbalance between them and their respective organizations. At least, until there's a hand extended towards him over the table. He takes it. The grip is firm and does not ease, making it uncomfortable as silent seconds pass.

"Gabriel. I'm looking forward to our continued partnership."

They'd never been formally introduced before. Hanzo feels the balance shift imperceptibly with the name slotting into the appropriate spaces in his mind.

"Hanzo."

"See that it doesn't end too soon," Gabriel releases his hand with finality. Hanzo nods, feeling like he has just, how the western saying goes, sold his soul to the devil.

"I will definitely keep it under consideration."

"Good."

Gabriel sits back down and Hanzo more than feels it's his cue to leave. He turns, with one last glance to the kid: he has managed to place himself between Jack's arms, with his back leaning against the man's chest. If not for the cuffs around the wrists laying across his lap, it would appear as nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn't, really, with how the kid was now engrossed in his game like everything was in perfect order.

Hanzo spends the ride back ruminating on the meeting.

The puzzle pieces do not want to fit together - he gets two or three to connect but not more - different bits of information suspended in the void of unknowns. When Daichi opens his door, one memory strikes him randomly. Hanzo sends him away with the wave of his hand.

Still sitting in the car, he takes one cigarette out of the case and lights it.

Hanzo doesn't smoke. It's rather a sympathetic nervous habit he had picked up from Genji: holding a burning cigarette between his fingers and the disagreeable smell help him focus and calm. He has been right. He knew the expression, or rather the lack of it, that Jack wore on his face when asked about the scar. He had seen it before, had heard the same flat voice, all from some of the used merchandise, the ones that were broken in, or just simply broken.

Two and a half years ago.

He wakes slowly, with pain lacing through his body at every minute motion. Tries to sort his memories out, what was real and what has never happened.

The room is oddly familiar. The slid shut curtains remind him of something disturbing.

It's probably morning.

Over the hum in his head, he can hear someone moving downstairs.

He works the courage up to shift and sit - then stand on unsteady legs - his tongue feels swollen and sticks to the roof of his mouth. It makes sense for it to be morning, somehow.

The first door he tries is the bathroom. The light comes on by itself - he barely registers moving before he's gripping the sink with both hands and drinks straight from the tap. When he finally looks up, there's a baggie stuck with yellow tape to the mirror's surface.

He rips it off and stills, staring. His reflection is a sorry sight - but it's not right - the bruises and scrapes are healing, his lips are scabbed. It's days, not hours. Tentatively, he reaches to his cheek and winces at the sharp pain.

But it's not right, not when his wrists are rubbed raw fresh and stinging - and there's nothing in the air but the smell of gasoline - and if Gabriel comes any closer, his hair will catch on fire too...

He flinches away from the mirror and the specter lurking in the reflection. But Gabriel is still standing in the doorway. Blocking his way out.

He knows.

Gabriel knows.

The fragments of the last few - two? three? - days come together into a mismatched tapestry of metal, gunpowder, and gasoline. He tastes blood and breathes in the sand. The edge of the sink digs into his back as Gabriel steps closer and crowds his space, hand reaching to his palm and freeing the still-gripped in it plastic bag.

With his fingers, Gabriel forces the pills past his lips; a drop of blood trickles down his chin from an open again split lip.

But he's only interested in finding what hides behind those eyes that observe him with the knowing superiority: what’s the verdict?

One phone call, he needs but one call, and 'Jack' will be wiped from existence, and he will be safe and away from all this.

Away and safe to lick his wounds. He’s good at that.

"Swallow." The command comes with a pressure to his jaw and a palm covering his mouth - he does. "Good doggie. Wash up, change, and come downstairs. Dinner's ready soon."

Gabriel lets go of him and leaves.

'Jack' needs to die.

He spares the last long look for his own reflection and wipes the blood off his face with one of the pristine towels hanging by the side. He throws it to the ground.

Hot water in the shower stings and hurts, but his lips and fingertips tingle with numbness. The steam makes it hard to breathe; the towel still comes away tinged pink with a few darker spots scattered around, stark in the contrast to the glaring white. There's still some grime under his nails he can't get to; he's not sure he cares, not now.

Opiates, this time, with something extra mixed in, he realizes when he overshoots with his hand at first try while reaching for the change of clothes lying on the bed. The loose sweatpants and the long-sleeved shirt, both in spruce - is spruce even a color? - hang off his frame. It's... a first. He remembers losing some weight, but this is ridiculous, as is the thought they're probably a set of pajamas. He chuckles and covers his mouth immediately, surprised at the sound.

He needs time and a place to lick his wounds and process before he crashes. He needs time away from 'Jack'.

He knows his way around the house as well as he knows someone outside will put a bullet in the back of his head if he runs.

He needs 'Jack' to die.

He steps barefooted off the carpeted stairs onto chill parquet.

On the chest of drawers by the wall lie his keys, gun, wallet, and the phone - the screen is cracked but as long as the other sim card is in it should dial the right number and 'Jack' will die either way. He almost picks up the phone and the gun but thinks better of it.

He's got a straight line to the outside. Baby steps. Just be quiet. He recognizes the jacket hanging on the coat rack, it's his own - looks back to the gun.

The sound of metal hitting on glass is too loud, almost like it's supposed to catch his attention.

"Oh, you're up! Just in time, too." Chipper and pleasantly surprised. He blinks and winces at the voice, turning to his right. She's there, in shades of pink, holding some spatula or some other implement. "Sit down, I'm just finishing up," Angela continues with a smile.

She can't not know. There's no fucking way she doesn't know at least that one thing. She shouldn't be smiling at him.

"...I don't want... to intrude."

"Don't be silly, Jack, I'm happy to have you. I tried something new tonight. I hope you like lamb in mint and black beans."

The table is set for four people. Jesse sits in his chair, elbows propped next to his plate, his cup of juice half-emptied already. Gabriel's not here. He can't decide if that's good or not.

Cautiously, he walks to the closest chair and sits with his back to the corridor.

Closest to the exit.

Angela busies herself with the pots. Jesse observes him with the fervent disinterest only children are capable of. He tries to smile; Jesse's not impressed and kicks the table.

"You must be hungry." It's bad. He had missed her moving.

Angela puts the meat on his plate first. It smells sweet. He is hungry - he must be hungry with how his breathing speeds up and shallows - or maybe he has just noticed it? She comes back with the beans; they're really, honestly, just black in black, and he laughs and chokes on it.

He wipes his lips with his wrist, barely noticing the blood.

The hand on his shoulder is not hers even if she's back again by his side, closer than before. Fingers move to his throat, a thumb rubs hard circles into the back of his head. She sees it, doesn't she? She has to.

"You'll be eating with us more often, won't you?" Angela coos, leaning in. She pets his hair and kisses his cheek. "You're family, after all. Well," she straightens and claps her hands. "Everybody, dig in. Dinner's served."

The hand on his neck lets go with one last shove - and only then he feels he's able to take a shallow breath. He focuses on the plate; the fork held between his fingers wavers. The beans glisten and he's pretty sure they are not moving, even if he would swear they do. He pierces one with the fork and brings it to his lips; somehow, it tastes numb. He almost recoils at the sudden pain when his tongue presses it against the roof of his mouth - and after a short pause, he moves the bite to the side of his mouth before swallowing.

That's... he remembers. That has happened.

He keeps his head low, forcing himself not to look anywhere but his plate, carefully gathering what is probably meat on the fork that hits the glass with too much force more than once.

He blinks.

The meat is on the fork.

The light is different.

The sickly sweet smell brings up bile in his throat. He lets go of the fork. The sound it makes when it falls is louder than a gunshot. He almost trips to the side together with the chair when scrambling to stand up, one hand pressed to his mouth.

"I need a smoke." Stained and high-pitched. It's not his voice.

He backs into the corridor until there's a wall behind him he can lean on. His breath comes in short wheezing gusts through the gaps between his fingers.

Little late to start panicking.

"Take the jacket. It's cold."

He turns to the left. The jacket.

He vaguely remembers he had a pack of cigarettes in there, one he only started on. He slides along the wall and tries - fumbles at it the first time; it feels too heavy - to pry the jacket off the hanger – stumbles to the door - forgets for a second it opens outward and pulls first.

The chill in the air hits him as he steps out to the porch. It's dark out. Shivering, he manages to slip the jacket on his shoulders and pats the pockets before he finds the cigarettes.

There are two SUVs with tinted windows parked in the front. He knows there are people in them.

He can't run.

The first cigarette is broken - he lets it fall next to his bare feet. The next, too. The third, too; he breaks off the dangling part and puts it between his lips.

He lights it off the offered light, noticing only after the fact Slim is standing next to him. And Slim is not slim, it's hilarious.

He drags on the cigarette. The smoke feels like nothing and burns the roof of his mouth, but quells nausea. Vertigo comes as he closes his eyes; a hand under his elbow keeps him stable for that fleeting moment.

His mind is clearer. Somehow.

He should be dead. He isn't. His cover is blown, and he has nothing. He's compromised. He throws the butt to the ground and takes out another cigarette. Slim lights that one for him, too.

Maybe, just maybe, he can go.

Walk past the parked cars with no one stopping him. Hitch a ride to the nearest gas station. Make a call and wait for someone to come and pick him up. With nothing of substance to show for the months spent.

Pathetic.

Run away with his life.

But...

No one else but him got this close. It almost feels like he's... being allowed to stay. Like they know - Gabriel knows - it isn't about him. The game's far bigger.

He can do it. 'Jack' can stay for a while longer.

He can do it. He still needs to make the call.

Jack takes the last drag on the broken cigarette and then tosses it away. He's still shivering. The hand leaves his elbow; Slim is still not slim, it's still hilarious, and Jack bites back a chuckle that sounds wrong even to his own ears.

"How's...?" Slim asks, almost like a concern.

Jack shrugs. Feeling the gaps in the wood with his soles, he takes a small step forward and breathes in the air.

He can stay a while longer. Jack is here to stay.

He turns around and sizes the door leading back into the lion's den. The click of the lock has a finality to it.

The only light in the corridor pours in from the kitchen. The familiar vertigo is back. Foot after foot, slow and careful, the thrum of blood rising in his ears, Jack makes his way to his phone left haphazardly in the open.

"What are you doing?"

He freezes with his fingertips trembling just above the cracked screen. Gabriel is behind him.

"I... need to make a call."

"You can do that tomorrow." Jack flinches when a clip of notes lands next to his palm. He flinches again when the jacket slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor. "You'll need a new phone, anyway."

"I really..."

The hand on his wrist pushes his arm down; Jack offers no resistance, his breath catching in his throat.

"Good doggie."

Fingers move over his shoulder and then knuckles brush against the hair on the nape of his neck. The touch follows the bumps of his spine - stops just below the shoulder blades with commanding pressure. He climbs the first step of the staircase. His grip on the handrail spasms. It was stupid, to expect the lion to lie meek in its own den.

Jack doesn't fight the hand at his back - doesn't fight it even as it pushes him later down under and keeps him at the bottom of the bathtub. In the morning, Angela fuses over him with the concealer. When she's satisfied with her handiwork, she drags him to stand in front of the mirror.

"See? It's all better now."

#sometimes i write #r76 #reaper76 #mob!au #dead dove #misery is the drug in your veins

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monopsys · 3 years

Text

The Last Person Standing

Hello everyone! I missed you all! I haven't been posting Durarara stuff lately so I wanted to change that by writing some new stories with @shizayasweek. Sorry for the long wait. So here we go! Also all thoses fics will go in AO3 and tagged as instructed.

Fic Ao3

Day one high school days/ "let me dye your hair"/ mafia!au

Mafia!au

Shizaya

Summary ( The yakuza starts to have a problem and it is up to Izaya to figure it out and deal with it.)

TW: Character death

"Sir, are you completely sure about this?" The cold voice echoed in the room.

The person that the voice referred to continue watching outside the window without flinching from the coldness of the voice. He simply smiled. He watched as a blond man walked the streets oblivious that someone was watching him. The cries were starting to get loud but then they suddenly stopped.

"Remind me, what Shiki said?" Izaya finally broke the silence and looked directly at the person that asked him the question without losing his tempo on what he was doing.

The man immediately looked away, feeling unworthy looking at his boss's face. The motion was so quick that it made him nauseous but that was what made his sir special and worthy of the title of yakuza. A quick job without a second thought. It made him shiver. His breath quickened but his voice was steady and without losing its coldness said.

"Boss said that whatever my sir asked, I would gladly follow."

Izaya nodded finally smirking at the person in front of him. He toyed with his now bloody knife and with a swift motion, it landed next to his bodyguard's head. The man closed his eyes and nodded.

"As you wish Sir." He said as he pulled out his gun.

And with that, the whimpering stopped.

-ooo-

"You didn't even give them any chance..." Shiki said as Izaya walked inside the red room.

Izaya smirked at him and winked. "Oh, Shiki-san is mad?~"

"Stop playing and answer honestly Izaya." Shiki warned Izaya while breathing out the smoke from his cigarette.

Izaya sat opposite Shiki and his gaze turned cold but his smirk was still on making him look completely out of his mind. Some would fear this look but Shiki knew it very well from the beginning of the journey together what it meant. And that meant that something was not good.

Something was not going their way.

Shiki let Izaya put his thoughts together. That was weird regarding Izaya one of the few yakuza members that never had lost any fight, any bet, any encounter with the enemy. He never lost. And yet something was off. Something was going against his plans. A thing that also affected Shiki and all yakuza members. Shiki put out his cigarette and put his hands together while looking at Izaya. Izaya closed his eyes and laughed quietly.

Eerily.

And with that, he pushed the chessboard that was in front of him on the table and let himself relax on the sofa. He now smirked normally and his eyes had focused on Shiki. Shiki nodded and Izaya talked.

"This was a new team we had recruited to get the boxes safely across the sea. Yet the team suddenly changed without our knowledge..."

"It became a gang?" Shiki asked.

Izaya toyed with his knife. "As far as I know. Their motto was 'saving the unaffected'. A new one."

Shiki sighed. "How many were created this month?"

"As far as I know they must be twelve. An impressive number yet only this time it was directly under my orders."

"Was the others..."

Izaya nodded. "As my information goes, they were under the Awakusu-kai."

"Is Akabayashi aware of this?"

Izaya smirked at him. "You wish me too?"

Shiki closed his eyes. Izaya was quick with his orders and executions. He even didn't know about this and yet Izaya had managed to clean the carpet yet again without anyone noticing. He was lucky to have him as his successor. Either way, he had trained him well, from a young age, and yet his mind was sharper than Shiki's making him fearsome to every single one of their enemy. Yet now someone was crazy enough to go against them. Or...

"Is..."

Izaya laughed at Shiki. "You finally figure it out old-man."

Izaya stood up and walked towards the library and took out a book. He finally took off his trademark jacket and unbuttoned his collar on his white shirt. When he finally was happy with the page on the book he turned and gave it to Shiki.

The page has stopped on the historical battle. Well, only in the yakuza world. And that was the battle fifty years ago against the yakuza and mafia. Shiki now put his hand on his head and rubbed like he had a headache.

"Are the events identical?"

Izaya nodded. "Operations from yakuza are all stopped. Gangs start to emerge creating chaos and the mafia operation finally starts. The elimination of yakuza."

"Only one organization can stand." Shiki stood up throwing the book on the sofa.

He took his jacket and with a click of his fingers his bodyguards enter the room surrounding him. He looked at Izaya.

"This must be announced at all the yakuza members. I order you to find more of the gangs and..."

Izaya smirked as he stepped on one of the chess pieces.

"...eliminate them."

-ooo-

"Are these the last ones, sir?" The man said as he threw one of the bodies on the water alongside his cigarette.

Izaya nodded. "The last gang on this coast at least." He looked at one of the bodies with disappointment in his eyes.

The man turned his gaze on the body Izaya was focused. He, unfortunately, recognized that man. It was the blond man that Izaya was focused on the other day.

"Was he...important?" He asked and Izaya smirked.

"Why is that important to you?"

The man felt his heart skip on that tone. That...harsh voice...

He looked away while unknowingly smiling at that feeling.

"You must know him by the tone." The man continued while he threw another body in the water.

Izaya didn't say anything but the man felt two holes being created on his back. He smirked this time.

He had Izaya's attention...

"He was important on yakuza yet his head started to get full with lies. So it was easier to just destroy it than empty it."

"So, he wasn't important..." The man's voice echoed together with a slash of a knife.

The knife had made its way near his cheek creating a cut and had landed next to his feet. The man smiled again. Izaya's reaction was quick. He turned and licked the blood that ran on his cheek while looking at Izaya.

Izaya didn't show any emotion and just showed his smirk at him.

"You have a big mouth..." He walked closer to the man and placed a knife on his neck. "...perhaps that might bring some fun."

With that, he closed it and jumped back away from the man. Izaya then looked at the moon.

"You remind me of him."

Oh?

"That...monster. The only one that could get out of my control. He could find a way out of my plans. Ruined them." Izaya turned and looked at the man now watching every move he did.

"So...I ruined him instead." Izaya started laughing and the man looked away betrayed.

He then continued his work with the bodies. With a last look at the blond man, he took out his yellow scarf and threw him.

-ooo-

"...Was he important?" The man suddenly asked as he took out his gloves after he had successfully killed the last boy on this gang.

Izaya's eyes focused on him. "People are important."

"Your love for them is what is important to you." The man said and felt Izaya near him.

"Your ideas and words don't match." Izaya said as he looked at the man.

"My ideas are your ideas, sir."

Izaya laughed. "Of course. It is an unwritten rule."

"My words can change if you want..."

Izaya looked unimpressed but smirked. "And where is the fun on that. Your next words could always result in your death and yet...you say them...."

"Like just him?" The man interrupted Izaya and Izaya moved his dagger on the man's neck.

"So the important question was about the monster, huh? What a clever bodyguard you are."

"Thanks for your kind words, sir. And yes. Was he?"

"Why are you obsessed with him, bodyguard? If I knew better, I would say you are his brother."

"Knowing my sir's past and enemies are required at this job."

With that Izaya fell into silence slowly he removed the dagger and smirked at the bodyguard as he tipped towed away from him.

"Clever boy. But this monster is dead."

"You killed him?"

"My first job."

The man stopped and observed Izaya. When he didn't find what he wanted he asked.

"The first job of every yakuza top is to prove royalty by...killing someone they love."

Izaya didn't say anything and just looked at the man. His face was emotionless apart from the usual smirk he always had.

"But you had said that he was a monster."

"That he was...but he was just any monster. He was MY monster."

"But why you did it?"

"As you said to prove my loyalty."

The man looked at him confused and he closed his fist.

"If you were in my position, wouldn't you do the same?"

The man looked at him again as Izaya just watched him. What the man did must have made Izaya happy since he laughed at him.

"You are weak."

"But you loved him."

"Unrequited love."

The man turned his gaze at Izaya while Izaya walked close to a puddle of the blood of the victims.

"Why?"

"Why? You will figure it out." Izaya said jokingly but this time his tone was sadder. He saw himself mirrored by the blood and his smirk turned eerie.

"I wonder...was he truly the true monster?"

-ooo-

It was the end.

Even after all Izaya had done, killing all the gangs, destroying the informants, and throwing false information everything had turned against him. Or the yakuza. The war had started without him knowing, without realizing. Or he actually... let it happen.

Did he want something? Was he searching for something? Why was he then so focused on destroying his own organization?

Did something on him change?

Did he look for revenge?

Perhaps. And yet not. He felt his heart drop when he saw his companions falling in battle. Every single person he had managed to rule into yakuza were down or were still fighting. His job was one and only at this time. It was to fight with them. Yet his dagger wasn't moving.

Was because he knew that the fight was over since he had ordered all the remaining yakuza to run and find shelter and regroup after this unexpected ambush. With what he had done they would have a better chance at the next battle. He was sure... But now....his dagger didn't move.

Was it because of the person in front of him that the dagger didn't move?

The man, his supposed bodyguard had managed to hit him making Izaya unable to move without feeling pain. That wouldn't surprise Izaya if it wasn't the weapon that his bodyguard had used on him.

A stop sign.

Only one could tear apart a sign, lift it without any problem and that was...Shizuo.

Izaya smirked at him while Shizuo finally took out that damn mask from his head. His blond hair shined at the light and his face was still intact, handsome as ever.

Izaya spitted out the blood from his mouth and smiled at Shizuo.

"Shizu-chan..." The stop sign moved and cut some of Izaya's hair.

"Don't...ever call me that again!"

Finally the voice, he long-awaited to hear.

"That name was given to me from someone that loved me."

"He is still here..." Izaya said but he didn’t expect the punch.

Izaya moved back and held his cheek feeling it burn.

"He might be...but that person is dead to me!" Shizuo barked and Izaya laughed.

"Was he? As I see it, Shizu-chan, you were the one that was still around me." With that, he threw his dagger finally at Shizuo.

Shizuo caught it and instantly broke it without flinching. Izaya stared at him losing himself for a while but quickly moved away from the upcoming sign. The sign hit the wall and stayed there. Shizuo though continued moving towards Izaya.

"Says the one that erased me from this world."

Izaya grimaced. He stared at Shizuo. "Why..."

"Why..." Shizuo laughed at him. "As you said, I am a monster. A bullet does nothing to me."

Izaya grimaced again but smiled. "Ah~ Of course. I have forgotten that thing about you. Your brain is one fact of your brutal motions. Never thinking. Something that might have saved us both.'' He whispered the last part but continued backing away from Shizuo. ''So you have come out just the perfect time to kill me. While my mind was elsewhere. Clever Shizu-chan."

"Waited for the right time."

"While looking for the answers. You did a full character arc Shizu-chan, that's impressive. Yet only Neanderthals can see the truth. Unlike you."

Shizuo showed his teeth but didn't move. He noticed that Izaya had managed to come closer to a window. He stared at him. Izaya just closed his eyes and smirked. With that he let himself fall back and...

...fell.

...but someone stopped him. Shizuo held his hand and Izaya finally opened his eyes and smirked at him.

"I was naive Shizu-chan. Betrayed by my own feelings. Yet the one that chooses to continue this serenade is you!"

Shizuo looked at him and pulled him inside the building before Izaya did anything more. Closer to him. Izaya put his hand on Shizuo’s chest feeling it move. His other hand was still held by Shizuo who hadn't moved. Izaya felt relief and then before he realized what was happening...pain.

He coughed blood. More blood than before. He looked down at his chest and saw a gun pointing at him. Shizuo had shot him.

Izaya turned at Shizuo who looked at him with regret and tears started to run down his eyes. Izaya pulled his hand away from his wound and put it on Shizuo’s face.

"I...I was wrong Shizu-chan....the...the true monster is..."

Izaya then with as much strength he still had, moved his head and kissed Shizuo, feeling his eyes burn. Slowly he muttered.

"...you..."

With that, his eyes closed letting his tears run down.

Shizuo held him close as he finally cried knowing that those words were true.

-ooo-

"Burn them all." Shizuo ordered and Vorona did as tasked.

He watched as the fire killed them all. He didn’t feel anything for them even if the cries started to get louder and louder. He had managed to finally win the war.

Mafia won.

He had won.

"Senpai, your face." Vorona said at Shizuo.

Shizuo put his hand on where Vorona showed and he saw blood. He closed his eyes realizing who was it. Izaya's hand had left a trace of blood on his cheek. Marking Shizuo as his killer.

He opened his eyes again and finally laughed. He felt his eyes burn yet again. He laughed and laughed but nothing matter anymore. Nor the win. Nor his success.

Only the truth! And that truth was painful!

Because Izaya never shot to kill but to erase. To save Shizuo.

But Shizuo’s was...

He was the TRUE monster!

---

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I wanted some angst so here we are! To clarify Izaya was in Yakuza and Shizuo was in Mafia. Same people different sides of the same coin.

See you soon!

#shizaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #durarara #durarara!!#drrr #drrr!!#shizayaweek2020 #monoreadie #so here we go again #i am glad i am back

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baeklooming-day · 4 years

Text

Carmin 2 | Chanyeol

Parts 1 | 2 | 3

Summary: When in the middle of your messy student life you end up becoming the right hand of a powerful mafia leader, it gets even messier when it puts you in an arranged marriage with one of the family’s sons.

Genre: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, fluffish

Word count: 1.5k

36. They’re monsters., 67. You’re bleeding all over my carpet., 75. Quit beating me up!, 84. Show me what’s behind your back.

A/N: Part two! frankly, if you know my other writings you know that practically every each of them takes place in Japan. well, in Tokyo. Tokyo is just my home. And this is my backyard. Credit to Tokyo for being my everything and giving me so much inspiration for everything I do.

“You can’t just show up whenever you want.”

You and Sohlhee were just leaving after your lectures in the afternoon, when you saw Chanyeol casually leaning on the wall, waiting.

Waiting for you.

A whole week passed already since you learned that you were about to be wedded to the ridiculously tall, clumsy boy you’ve known way too long than you would like to.

Ever since that day, he’s been frequently coming to pick you up wherever you were, whether it was because of some family business or just to take you somewhere.

Not to mention, that this ‘taking you somewhere’ was obviously against your will.

His non stop presence was starting to seriously get on your last nerves.

Apparently, Mr. Ishikawa decided that the two of you should be spending more time together, since you were about to become wife and husband.

You really wanted to throw up whenever someone said those two words.

The whole thing was annoying you even more because it didn’t go unnoticed by your friends from Waseda, particularly Sohlhee.

“I would have texted or called you, but you never ever read my texts or answer my calls.” Chanyeol crossed his arms, looking at you with his big eyes.

“What?” Sohlhee sounded surprised. “Why do you ignore him like that, Y/N? That’s mean!”

You rolled your eyes. If only she knew.

“You know, what’s the freaking point of you showing up so often out of nowhere? Me and Sohlhee already have plans.” You said, quietly hoping that maybe, finally, you would get him to leave.

You could always dream, right?

Chanyeol lightly squinted his eyes at you. “Oh yeah? What do you actually usually do, if I may ask?”

Before you could tell him off again, Sohlhee was quicker to answer. “We usually hang out in Akihabara or Shibuya. Shinjuku is so boring. And to be honest, I don’t like it around here at night, in particular anywhere near to Kabukicho.” She told him.

You couldn’t fail to notice the weird sparkle in Chanyeol’s eye. And you already knew what he was about to say.

“Why, are you afraid of mafia or something?” He asked with a laugh.

You sent him a glare, but he ignored it. You could’ve imagined.

“I don’t feel comfortable at all around there. And actually everyone knows that everything happens there behind the closed door! Who knows what illegal stuff they might be doing.”

Chanyeol finally looked your way, but continued talking to Sohlhee. “You know, yakuza is actually an admitted organisation...”

Sohlhee looked at him with disbelief at his overly calm tone. “I don’t believe it that they’re clean. Look at all the crime happening in that district. I heard that lately someone was murdered somewhere around the Golden Gai. They’re monsters.” She concluded.

Your eyes immediately dropped to the ground.

Murder in the Golden Gai? Sounded way too familiar, and unfortunately you knew exactly who was the murderer.

God, it already sounded horrible enough in your thoughts alone.

“Well, you wouldn’t want to run into any of them, right.” You said slowly, blankly looking at the ground in front of you.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Funny that she was technically being around one every single day, because given your position, you could be counted as one of those shady mafia members, no matter how stupid it sounded to you.

“So” Chanyeol’s deep voice vibrated through the air between you once again. “You coming?”

“I already told you.” You answered him through your gritted teeth.

To your utter surprise, you felt Chanyeol’s arm falling on your both shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

You looked at him with complete disbelief.

“Come on Y/N, you know this is super important. We have to be there.” He said ‘be’ as if signaling that it must be some family business where the two of you were immediately needed without any discussion.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

“What a life” You mumbled to yourself, mad that again you couldn’t do anything about it, you just had to be obedient to family’s orders.

You angrily pushed Chanyeol’s arm away, turning to Sohlhee with an apologetic expression already plastered to your face. Lately you had to use that expression way too often for everyone’s liking.

“Forgive me, Sohlhee” You started. “It looks like I really have to go. But I promise you the whole day on Sunday, okay? I won’t go anywhere.”

You pretended that you didn’t hear Chanyeol mumbling a very quiet ‘we’ll see about that’, looking at your friend.

You were more than sure that there will come one day when she would frankly have enough of you always cancelling your plans.

“Well, okay. What a waste.” She was clearly sad, and that made you feel sad as well, just as much as suddenly super disappointed in yourself.

If there was one thing which you absolutely, wholly hated, it would be cancelling on your friends.

But then again, in moments like this one you remembered when Mr. Ishikawa told you at the very beginning that real friends are a luxury that you can’t allow yourself to have in your world. That sooner or later those relationships were bound to fail, to simply end. People from your world were staying in their circle, as simple as that. But clearly, none could prevent you from making some friends whilst you were studying always surrounded by many people everyday.

You started to lose yourself in your thoughts again, not even noticing when Chanyeol already pulled you away by your wrist, straight to the big black car which was waiting for you a couple of meters away.

You were sitting on a chair inside a big, luminous Starbucks in Ginza with a venti size peach tea with extra ice cubes standing on the table in front of you. Chanyeol was lying about some important family business where you two were urgently needed, instead lurking you on some stupid ‘date’, how he liked to call it, again.

“I hate you.” You said, your voice filled with venom.

“Come on Y/N, I even got you the biggest peach tea. You love peaches.” He continued to sip on his own cold matcha, looking at you from the other side of the table.

“I also love the sound you make when you shut the freak up.”

Chanyeol leaned a little forward, holding the cup with both hands and still sipping on the tea. “Don’t be so cold.” He frowned a little. “Don’t you think we should actually try to make this work and get along? Remember, you are my fiancée.” He pronounced the last word making the ‘e’ in it way too long, adding a puppy look sent your way.

Lord help, that you just ended up dealing with something like that.

You knew that it would eventually lead to that.

Some super unnecessary and annoying ‘dates’ and actual family affairs later, you finally lost it.

You never considered yourself an actual violent person, but you knew yourself well enough to know that if someone pushed your limits, you would be able to literally throw tables.

Or different things that were near you in that moment.

You didn’t even know anymore what he did or said that made you literally explode.

It started building up little by little, only to finally explode like a volcano.

“Chanyeol, don’t talk to me, just leave finally. Yeah, leave, this is my freaking room.” You said, leaning on a dark wooden desk with beautiful porcelain cups and matching plates behind you.

“You are probably the most difficult person to talk to, you know?” He replied, completely ignoring your already flamed up cheeks, a sign that you were about to explode any moment.

He continued talking, but you already weren’t listening. You just wanted to be left alone, but visibly it was too much to ask.

Your hand made its way behind your back, taking one of the porcelain cups and holding it very tightly.

“...and more than that... Wait.” Chanyeol stopped, looking at you and your arm. Then he rolled his eyes. “Y/N. Show me what’s behind your back.”

You didn’t even give him an answer. With your free hand you took another cup and using your full strength that you could find in that moment, you smashed them both right on him, not caring too much where the blow landed, you were too mad to care.

It was a long way to actually bring you to a complete furious state like that, so without really thinking you just continued throwing all the expensive cups at him, obviously breaking all of them.

“Holy-” You finally heard Chanyeol’s voice in your ears. “You’re impossible! Quit beating me up! Oh my god, my nose...”

You finally properly looked at him, starting to calm down a little.

Your blow must have been really strong, because next to the red scratch on Chanyeol’s otherwise flawless cheek, his nose was completely red, carmin blood dripping down covering his lips and finally dripping from his chin everywhere.

Before the guilt could take over you, you simply fired: “Well, look. Will you finally leave now? You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” And with that, with his nose all in blood, you just threw him out, making sure to shut your door behind him extra loudly.

Right after you shut the door, you slowly leaned your forehead on the cold wood. Your life was already so difficult before, now you didn’t even know if there was a word to describe its present state.

A/N: one more part to go! i hope you like it, feel free to reblog as always, i forgot to add it in the first part! leave me your thoughts, opinions and stuff ;-; one of you asked me to be tagged in the following parts, idk why but i can’t tag you because your name just doesn’t show up as an option to tag when i type it ;________;

#exo #exo scenarios #chanyeol #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol imagines #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x y/n #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol angst #exo scenario #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo mafia au

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iya5rt · 4 years

Text

Kalopsia Project [Bakugo Katsuki x Reader – Tokyo Ghoul AU]

Chapter 9 – The Two Who Knew Nothing and the One Who Knew Everything

Chapter Summary: A fateful meeting with the one who’d seen it all. A meeting which should have told you all you needed to know. Yet why did it feel like the emptiness in your heart only grew…?

Kalopsia Project Masterpost

Glossary:

Kalopsia (Greek) – the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

***

The sun had yet to fully rise above the horizon and the streets were still empty. It was much too early for anyone to begin their day-to-day life. In another hour or two, the sidewalks would have been bustling with people left and right, just like usual.

But now was not time for the usual.

You pulled up the hood of your jacket, tucking your unruly hair away and out of your face – you didn’t need any more problems to deal with. What you already had was plenty. Finally, you put on the small black face mask. With the way you looked right now, you wouldn’t have been surprised if someone mistook you for a criminal.

Pulling up your phone’s camera, you looked at yourself. Though your face was almost completely hidden, those bags under your eyes were big and obvious. No wonder though – you hadn’t slept at all the previous night.

Not only did you feel physically sick because, much to your disappointment, the realization of what was happening to you and your body did not magically eliminate all the unpleasant symptoms that had fooled you into thinking you were suffering a mere cold. And of course, there were all the thoughts swarming your mind right now.

It was like there was too much to think about, yet simultaneously you couldn’t think about a thing. It was too much. Overwhelming. Frightening.

There was no way you could have fallen asleep, even if you had wanted to. But you couldn’t bring yourself to really take everything in either. You were too tired for it. What even was the point? It was all going to happen regardless of how long you spent dwelling on the thought, regardless of how many tears you shed over it.

Why waste this effort now? You were going to desperately need it (and much more) in the days to come. But there was something else that, while it was probably not going to help you go through all of this, you still craved. Maybe more than anything.

Answers.

How had everything happened? Why you? Was this even possible? Who was responsible? There were many more questions you had. And you were determined to receive the answers to all of them today.

A pair of footsteps approached the small room you were in, and a small knock came from behind you. You turned to find Bakugo already leaning against the open door, his knocking coming only as a signal that he was there and waiting for you. He didn’t look much better either – sure, he wasn’t the one whose world was suddenly falling to pieces before his very eyes, but he also seemed to have been affected by all this.

Was this a cause of worry for ghouls too? Or was it something about it being you in particular that bothered him? You were causing too much trouble… He hadn’t slept either, not to mention that while you had been unconscious and getting even just a bit of rest, he had been awake and dealing with the mess that was the aftermath of everything.

You were a mess. Both of you.

“You ready?” he quietly asked, pushing himself off the wall. You turned to face him, as you put your phone away, shoulders slumping. With a single tired smile, you spoke back to him.

“Emotionally, no. But I don’t really have a choice, do I…” Bakugo also gave an exhausted sigh, motioning for you to follow him outside.

“You’ll probably never be. It’s best to just get this over with. Who knows – you might feel better once you get some answers.” Soon enough, the two of you had left Yuuei and had begun on your way to the nearest train station. The streets really were as empty as that night Monoma had attacked you. But things were different now. All that had happened so soon, yet to you it felt like it had been ages since then.

And oh, what you wouldn’t give to just go back to how things had been before. You were quickly starting to regret ever wishing for something exciting to shake up your life.

Because before long, you were sure this shaking would just make your world crumble.

The silence outside wasn’t helping with your drowsiness at all. You had to leave early, while there were so few people out and about, because you couldn’t let anybody see you. Why was that? Was it because everyone was worried about those weird stalkers of yours from the previous day? Or was it something you didn’t know about?

It was just Bakugo and you, so as to attract even less attention. Not that two hooded figures wearing dark clothes and face masks could ever not look suspicious. Good thing no one was out this early to see you.

The walk to the station was quiet. So was the train ride itself. Neither of you uttered a word.

Why Bakugo was staying quiet was a mystery to you, though you knew he wasn’t all that talkative in the first place. You, on the other hand, were scared that if you were to speak, you’d no longer be able to hold it all in and would break before your fight had even begun.

So, you remained quiet. You tried to keep a clear mind, to not even think about it. If there was ever a time to take life one step at a time, that was now.

You were surprised when Bakugo ushered you to get off at the Second Ward. You’d never asked about that mysterious man you were to visit today. You didn’t know who he was, what he knew, or where he lived for that matter.

Only a minute of walking later, the two of you briefly passed by a certain familiar place. It wasn’t one that bore much for pleasant memories, if the police tape still surrounding the destroyed sidewalk with dried bloodstains all around was any indication.

You tore your eyes away from the sight, picking up your pace to catch up and walk closer to Bakugo. The events of that night less than a week ago certainly weren’t something you wanted to recall now of all times.

Your clear mind was quickly filling with images and worries, as you realized you couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Not unless you wanted to break down so soon.

“Bakugo-kun?” He didn’t stop, but briefly turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “About this person I’ll be meeting today – should I… be afraid of him? We’re walking through all these suspicious places, I feel like we’re going to end up at the lair of some yakuza or something…”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even sure if you were joking or not.

“Afraid of him? Not really, there’s no reason for you to be.” He went quiet for a moment. “It’s what we might find out that you should worry about.”

“I guess you’re right…” you mumbled, taking to looking at your feet, as you focused solely on just walking. Anything to keep your mind busy, really.

Bakugo-kun… I can’t bring myself to say this to him yet, but he’s been dragged into this all with me.

No, I dragged him into it with me. Yet he’s not complaining. Quite the opposite – he’s been so tolerant and patient, despite all the problems I have caused him and how frustrating it must be to deal with me now.

I should really get a grip on myself, huh?

After all, with this I’m finally starting to see what life is like for him. I… never realized it was this hard… For all of them…

You took a deep breath.

For Bakugo-kun and for everybody at Yuuei – I’ll have to pull through this!

The remainder of your quiet walk took you through a handful of dark and dangerous-looking alleyways. The sun was slowly starting to rise, but you still wouldn’t have wanted to be passing through any of these by yourself. You took so many twists and turns, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to make it out of them if Bakugo were to suddenly disappear on you.

And with how considerate your luck had been lately, you honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if that actually happened.

Bakugo’s confident advance slowed when you turned into yet another dark and narrow street. It looked awful, to put it mildly.

A disgusting stench from the garbage thrown all over the place attacked your senses right away. All the houses lining the alleyway were falling apart, the doors of some even torn off their hinges. You hadn’t done much travelling lately, but you were surprised to find what a state the Second Ward was in. No wonder Monoma had taken to looking for prey elsewhere.

While you were busy taking in the miserable sight, Bakugo had gone ahead and carefully inspected all the entrances around. When he finally stopped in front of a door that was surprisingly still intact, though quite damaged and old-looking, he leaned in to take a closer look.

“This area’s mostly uninhabited from what Aizawa told me. A desperate ghoul or two swing by occasionally but they don’t end up having much luck. Everyone living here has probably been killed ages ago,” Bakugo muttered, motioning for you to come over. “Except…” He pulled a small key from his pocket and stuck it in the door’s lock. Your eyes briefly widened when a small click came from the door, only for it to then creak, as it slowly opened.

Once the two of you were inside, Bakugo locked the door again and pushed you forward through a barely lit hall. Then again, it was still lit and that was a good enough sign that you were going to the right place.

“Have you been here before?” you whispered, as though scared someone was waiting to jump out at you.

“Not here, no. I’ve met him before. Quite a few times actually. But he changed his hideout recently – only Deku and Aizawa have been to this one.” At the far end of the hall, you found a few rooms, most of which were either opened and just as dark inside or had their doors long busted.

However, one of them was still in surprisingly good condition.

Bakugo stepped forward, holding out a hand to signal you to stay behind him. He knocked on the door and leaned in closer, waiting for a response. Though nothing came from the other side, the muffled sound of shuffling made you both stiffen, before he knocked again.

“I’m bringing the new Yuuei girl,” he spoke, and just as quickly a pair of frantic footsteps rushed to the door. It took a good few seconds, during which it sounded like multiple mechanisms were unlocked, until the door slowly opened, first only a bit but then, upon confirming it really was Bakugo who had called out, the man inside opened it fully and ushered the two of you inside.

You remained frozen and gaped at him though.

“A-Al Might!?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, probably having expected you’d recognize him. Your next words however, left him speechless too.

“H-How…? They said… they said you had been killed! During that raid years ago!! They said you… you had lost to Endeavor…” The man you recognized as All Might (and how could you not – his fame among the CCG was unmatched and you’d heard many stories about him from your parents, always going on and on about his skill and talent as an Investigator) had a sad look on his face. He closed his eyes and shook his head, stepping back to allow you to enter the room.

“Come in and take a seat please. The story you’re about to hear might take a while.”

After you got seated, he served you both a cup of coffee each, and though any other day you would have probably proclaimed it the best coffee you’d ever had, today your mind was plagued with much more important thoughts. Something like the taste of coffee seemed too trivial to even consider.

“Where would you like me to start?” All Might asked, while Bakugo looked back and forth between you and the former investigator. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Not because anyone feared the danger of somebody attacking out of the blue. No, it was because all three of you knew this was going to be a difficult conversation.

You closed your eyes and took a single deep breath. This was it, huh?

“It seems like I don’t know anything, so it doesn’t really matter. Perhaps tell us about the Raid first?”

All Might nodded and slumped forward, intertwining the fingers of his hands, which he was resting on his knees. You used the moment to take in his appearance – he was as tall as ever but gone were his strong build and lively smile. Instead, he was now all skin and bones, the light almost gone from his eyes. What had happened to him to change him so much from the man he had once been?

Those eyes of his were soon glazed over with a distant look, as they fixed themselves on the still steaming liquid in his cup.

“For the CCG everything that happened after the Raid of the Research Facility 10 years ago was part of a massive cover-up. And it all started with the “Kalopsia” Project.” Bakugo’s eyes widened for a moment – that was the same name Todoroki had mentioned back at Yuuei before you had regained consciousness. He must have been right then.

All Might stood up and walked over to a small briefcase tossed carelessly in the corner of the room. As he spoke, he opened it and began digging through the few stacks of papers inside.

“Whoever called it that clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word they used. Perhaps that’s why it was doomed from the start.” He seemed to have found what he was looking for, as he glanced over a couple documents and returned to the small coffee table where you and Bakugo still sat. “The project was the CCG’s attempt to create perfect soldiers. They wanted to have a force even stronger than ghouls themselves on their side. Different options were considered.

“Some suggested they should take in young ghouls and train them to fight against their own kind. However, the ones responsible for the project weren’t satisfied. They wanted something stronger. Someone who would obey them no matter what.

“And so came the next idea – why didn’t they turn a human into a ghoul? No – something stronger than a ghoul. I don’t know who initiated the research for this, nor who carried it out. By the time I found out about it, many had already lost their lives to this inhuman project.”

You and Bakugo listened intently. With every new word, it felt like your heart skipped yet another beat. You were almost sure it was going to stop any second now. Because every new word brough you closer and closer to having to accept it as the truth.

All Might placed the documents on the table. There were eight of them in total, each labeled as “Classified Information” and each bearing a sentence or two scribbled in messy handwriting with a red pen at the bottom. And while the ones All Might presented to you were only 8, the numbers on them ranged from Subject 6 to Subject 36.

Both you and Bakugo began looking through them one by one, your breath getting caught in your throat every time you glanced at the names. You kept expecting you’d find your own sooner or later. Yet, eight documents later, you hadn’t seen the familiar kanji anywhere.

“Not long after I learned of the “Kalopsia” Project, I realized I couldn’t bear it any longer. That wasn’t the reason I had become an investigator. So on that day 10 years ago, it seemed clear what I had to do. I knew the ghouls were on our trail -one by one, they were attacking the CCG’s branches in the different wards. Which is why I leaked the Research Facility’s location to them.

“Less than 24 hours later, the building was attacked by many high-ranking ghouls, with Endeavor leading the fray. I have no doubt they successfully destroyed that which I hadn’t managed to. All I saved are the documents before you now.”

Your stares, having long scanned over said documents, were pointed expectantly at All Might, who cast his own eyes down at his feet and clenched his fists.

“That night, many researchers and investigators alike lost their lives. Some might have even deserved it – it was their way of paying for what they had done and for all the people whose futures and lives they had destroyed in this immoral dream of theirs. I’m sure among them there were those who didn’t deserve it though. I’m sure my actions led to the deaths of innocents.

“That night, I let fear get the better of me and ran. Guess the CCG realized I had something to do with all of this, so they proclaimed I had been killed by Endeavor. I’m sure they’d gladly jump on the chance to silence me even now, had they known I was still alive. That’s why I’ve been hiding ever since then and have only evaded them this long thanks to Aizawa and all the kids at Yuuei.”

When All Might’s frown deepened and his eyes saddened even further, that sinking feeling you had forgotten about returned too.

“Unfortunately, even after all of this, I couldn’t prevent the creation of a single successful subject in the project.” He looked at you, while Bakugo only cast his eyes to the floor. “I didn’t know much about them – I had never heard their name, never seen what they looked like. I thought it was impossible. That they must have been fooling themselves. It seems like I was wrong.”

The room fell into a thick silence. It had suddenly gotten so quiet, it was almost like no one was even breathing.

At least until you finally inhaled slowly. Your head felt light and your hands were trembling, making you intertwine them so as not to let it show. And good thing you were seated for your legs also felt much too weak to even stand on them.

“What about my parents then…? I was told that they… that they were killed by a ghoul.” You looked up All Might, your voice quivering, yet no tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Do you believe what the CCG told you?” You shook your head, as All Might nodded. “Perhaps that’s for the best. Young [L/N], I don’t know if this all somehow happened without your parents knowing of it, or if they were simply given no choice in the first place. Whichever it was, it seems not all the researchers responsible for the project were killed 10 years ago. I suspect the experiments began again. And that’s when they began fearing your parents for knowing too much too.”

You swallowed.

Was this really what you had been hoping for? Years later, you finally learned of the truth. You had always expected this truth to fill that emptiness their death had left. To make everything better.

Yet it felt like the emptiness only grew, preparing to swallow you whole very soon.

“Perhaps they have been monitoring you all this time,” Bakugo spoke for the first time since you’d come in. His face was scrunched in an emotion you couldn’t place when all your own thoughts were running rampant inside your head too. “Instead of keeping you captive, they’ve just been keeping an eye on you in a way that wouldn’t make them look suspicious. But ever since that asshole attacked you, you’ve moved in over at Yuuei and, were it not for occasionally going for class, you’ve suddenly almost disappeared off the face of the earth. And now that everything’s slowly starting to unravel…”

You grit your teeth.

Was this the answer you had been waiting for? That all your life you had been fooled? That your fate had long been decided against your will? That this was how it was all going to end!?

You cast your eyes down, letting the messy hair fall over your face from underneath the hood. As you slowly stood up, Bakugo followed after you, and a step or two later, you stopped, turning to look at All Might one final time.

“Why was it you decided to help the ghouls of Yuuei? Why did you trust them?”

All Might smiled sadly, as his eyes took in the image of you and Bakugo standing side by side. He thought it was quite ironic – how you were asking that question, yet more than likely already knew the answer to it.

“I saw myself just how horrible my fellow humans can be. The sense of unity and trust – the sense of family – everyone at Yuuei had? It brought me a sense of faith and comfort. There’s no real reason beside that.”

You nodded and gave a small bow.

“Thank you so much for your time, All Might.”

Not awaiting his response, you walked through the door, vaguely aware of Bakugo quietly following after you.

You knew all you wanted to know now.

And yet…

It only made everything worse.

***

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

Protocol K78152112

Subject #38

Real Name: [L/N] [F/N]

Background: Subject is the child of two ghouls investigators.

Results: Full sync with the kakuhou was achieved almost instantly. Changes to blood structure and the subject’s body were minimal.

Declared a success.

(scribbled in pen) Oh, how long we’ve waited for this!! Note for future reference – the changes are not apparent yet. We want to confirm the compatibility and examine a few more things first. A simple increase of RC cells should to the trick when the time comes!

***

Author’s Note: The moment I outlined this chapter a few months ago, I knew it was going to be a fun one to write. Oh, how right I was, haha~

I actually expected it to include more but it is, if I’m not mistaken, the longest chapter of Kalopsia Project thus far! I haven’t mentioned this before, but this story isn’t actually all that long. We have about four or so more chapters to go and it’s… done? Which is kinda crazy to say. Be thankful I didn’t leave this chapter off on the awful cliffhanger I had planned for it :) Guess the rest of the angst comes next chapter, huh?

Anyway, I’ve been asking for predictions a lot and though I can’t really comment much on those without spoiling what’s actually going to happen, I’ve been blown away by all of you guys! Most of what I read either comes incredibly close (usually hitting a few marks spot-on), or actually suggests ideas I’m mad I didn’t think of myself… But I really appreciate the time and thought it takes to write those out – thank you so, so much♥

Now, as promised, here are the identities of the subjects in the 8 Classified Information files we’ve had so far, in order of appearance: Magne, Muscular, Mustard, Moonfish, Gigantomachia, Dabi, Twice, and Toga! There is one more file you’ll see next week and that might be the last of those! They won’t be nearly as fun now that you know the secret behind them anyway.

I rambled on forever yet again so thank you so much for bearing with me! I’d love to know what you think about the developments of this chapter! Did you see them coming? Do some odd details here and there suddenly make a whole lot more sense? I hope this chapter was as fun for you guys to read, as it was for me to suddenly fire off a bunch of those Chekhov’s guns I’ve been putting up everywhere (if you don’t know what Chekhov’s gun is, I strongly recommend looking it up by the way – it’s a great idea to keep in mind while plotting a story^^) Anyway, thank you so, so much for reading and I’ll be back next Wednesday! Bye~

(I can’t believe I accidentally managed to sneak the word “unravel” in a Tokyo Ghoul AU lmao Also, @afuckingunicornn @creativedogs @chims-kookies - thank you for the support and here is the next part!)

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo #bnha x reader #bnha tokyo ghoul au

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miss-m-and-her-blog · 7 years

Text

He’s My Girl (Prologue)

TITLE OF STORY: He’s My Girl

CHAPTER: (Prologue)

AUTHOR: miss-m-and-her-blog

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Actor!Tom

GENRE: Romance, Action, Drama

FIC SUMMARY: He’s a guy, she’s a boy in disguise. He’s an actor, she’s a stuntman or -woman. How can it ever work when the famous Tom Hiddleston stars in an action film, with Charlie or Charlene as his stunt choreographer?

RATING: T

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: The character Charlene is a mixed-raced Korean (She’s part Chinese-Filipino and Korean), and her looks are inspired from actress Jessica Henwick, because look at her at the picture below, she’s just divine, isn’t she? ^_^

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: The readers went through with me with Mr. Perfect, and now here’s another one ^_^ I hope that the readers will like it :D Thanks very much and always, lovelots! <3

—-

It is an unusually hot November day, and the sun has shone all day there on Lockley Studios. The pre-production of their newest action film titled, The Last Deal is ongoing and they are looking for stunt performers or choreographers that can keep up with the action sequences of the film.

Meanwhile, at the other side of the studio stands the trailers of the stars casted for the film; there at the end of the lane stood the trailer of the leading man, Tom Hiddleston.

He was re-reading the script as he is internalizing his character, John Hicks; a retiring assassin who has been hired to take one last job that will wedge him between a war with the Triads and the Yakuza.

The PA beside him heard him sigh, “Wow, this is some heavy stuff.”

His PA, a middle-aged woman named Angie asked, “Why so?”

Tom pointed at the script, “John’s backstory is just-- very heavy. I mean, he went on being an assassin when he turned 16, just after his parents were killed in front of him. All of the rage and angst, this guy has it.”

Angie patted his shoulder, “Be glad that’s he’s just a character.”

Tom chuckled and shook his head. Once again, he’s being so invested in a character that he forgets that he is not the person in the script.

Suddenly, a prod. assistant knocked and opened the trailer door.

“Tom? The stunt performers for audition, they’re here. You wanted me to let you know when they arrive.”

He stood up and replied giddily, “Oh yes. Where are they? Where’s the audition happening?”

“Studio 4. Are you coming?”

Tom looked back at Angie, “Yes. I’ll come with you. Maybe I could also choose a stunt trainer from them.”

The man nodded with a smile and Tom followed him out of the trailer.

He almost swore to himself for not bringing something to cover him because the Californian sun felt like it would melt his skin off. But as they trekked the mile long way to the studio, Tom didn’t bothered to think about the heat.

When they arrived at Studio 4, a very large warehouse that can contain two tennis courts or three basketball courts, stood mightily at the center of Lockley Studios. He was lead on at the main entrance, and the moment he entered, every crewmen or production assistant were in a large circle and are watching something in the middle.

“What’s happening?” Tom asked as he could also hear people cheering on what was happening at the center.

“You have to see this, Tom. It’s like a cage fight inside that circle.” A camera crewman encouraged him.

His eyebrow raised and he felt curious. Why does an audition for a stunt performer needed to be a cage fight?

The production assistant lead him closer to the circle and also up front so he could see what was happening. When he got there, he was offered a seat beside the film’s executive producer, Andy Lockley and the director, George Weissman.

Both men saw Tom and they shook his hand and he sat in the middle of them to watch the spectacle that had started in the audition.

“What’s really happening?” Tom asked again, now at George.

“An audition. But you have to watch this. These guys from the Philippines have prepared something cool for us to see.” He confidently pointed out to Tom.

Tom could only shake his head and turn his attention at the middle of the circle.

For a while, all was cheering when four tall and muscled men came out and stood out like they are the corners of a box. They looked so ferocious that Tom thought that he wouldn’t want to get in a fight with them. But what happened next was that a girl, also a Filipino, stood in the middle of them.

The crowd cheered louder as if they are in MMA fight that time and Tom couldn’t understand what was about to happen. He was worried that the girl might get hurt with this mock fight that they are going to do.

The girl nodded at the men around her, and there, the fight begun.

All at once, the men attacked her and with a swift motion, she ducked and evaded them. Tom felt so surprised as he saw the girl punch and kick the men as if she is as strong as them.

Her acrobatic moves were formidable and he just couldn’t believe his eyes that the girl who looked so fragile and innocent a minute ago is now battling those behemoth of men with her moves.

Once again, the crewmen roared with cheer and shouted everything when the girl was caught in a headlock by one of the men.

Finish her! One shouted, and Tom cringed.

What is this? A pit fight? Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself.

In all truth, Tom is rooting for the girl to come out of the mock fight unscathed or at least unhurt. Until then, the girl got out of the headlock and she effortlessly held the man in a leg lock which took the man down.

The other stuntmen didn’t dared move her or she will break the man’s arm joints, and so, he tapped the mat beneath them; surrendering to the girl.

Tom sighed in relief as the mock fight was done. But the glee in Andy and George’s face were still there. They are amused, but he could see something in Andy--something else.

The stuntmen lined up and took a bow as the crowd cheered at them. The noise only died down when Andy stood up to say something,

“You have done a good job, guys. That’s a very good showcase of your talents. All of you, can join the production-- except, you.”

And he pointed at the girl, and her eyes widened with shock. Tom was baffled, then the girl spoke,

“I’m sorry?” Her voice sounded delicate, just like how she looks.

“We’re not hiring you, babe.” Andy nonchalantly told her.

She was breathing heavily and she took steps forward to ask again, “Why? Have I done something wrong?”

Andy, brushed his whiskers and said, “We don’t hire women on this kind of job here in Lockley Studios. And anyways, you look like a toothpick that can be easily snapped into two-- how old are you anyway? 15?”

Tom saw the girl blush with embarrassment but she managed to reply, “I’m 24, Mr. Lockley. And I can do stunts just as much these guys can.” She replied defiantly but still with respect.

“Still no, baby girl. I’m sorry. Only the guys are hired.” And he gestured with his hands saying No.

With all of this happening, Tom had his jaw clenched. He couldn’t say anything at the moment, because Andy is the executive producer of this film.

Misogynist prick. Is he afraid that a girl can do it? He quietly thought to himself.

And with that, the audition ended.

“Let’s wrap up it, people. Congratulations to the men.” Andy spoke lastly.

The crowd left one by one, but the girl remained standing at the middle, still breathing heavily. One of the men gave her a sad look and tapped her shoulder. But she looked away from him.

George left and so did Andy, but Tom was left standing from his seat. He saw that the girl was about to sob but she only drummed her chest and turned away so no one would see her tears.

Tom wanted to run for her or at least say something to comfort her. He knows what it feels like to have a door shut at someone’s face, and he experienced it when he is just beginning in the show business.

But she walked away fast that he couldn’t chase her down anymore. Instead, he now wants to confront Andy for his rejection. He turned around and he walked briskly, trying to reach Andy amidst the crowd exiting the studio.

“Andy! Andy, wait!” He shouted, but suddenly, he felt a hand hold his arm and stop him.

It was Julian Tanner, his stunt double from previous films that he had done that eventually became his friend.

“Don’t, Tom. Andy will never listen to you.” He begged him.

“How would you know?” Tom spatted at him.

“I know. I’ve worked for him a couple of times and I just know that he doesn’t listen.” Julian tried to calm Tom down.

He inhaled sharply and scratched the back of his head. “When did you arrived, man?” Tom asked Julian.

“A little while, but I saw all of it.”

Tom tried to dismiss his frustration, then he replied, “Buy me a drink, will you? Just so I could forget this for a moment?”

“Sure. Come on, man.” Julian replied with a smile.

And then they left the scene to get out of the studio for a while.

-------

A black Chevrolet SUV pulled out of the parkway of the studios and the first person to come out of it is the leading lady of the film and also the director’s niece; the actress Paula Weissman.

She is the epitome of a Hollywood beauty; long blonde curls, perfect heart-shaped face and to top it off, a perfect body. But actually, underneath the face lies the attitude of a spoiled Primadonna that she carefully don’t show to her fans.

Her assistant, Gwen, stood quickly beside her with an umbrella on hand.

“Ugh, Gwen, the heat!” She complained to her assistant who scurried and opened the umbrella and enclose Paula inside the shade.

They started to walk towards the main building of Lockley Studios as her uncle would meet them there.

Then she asked Gwen something, “Where’s Tom? Did he said anything?”

Gwen struggled to talk as she held up the umbrella while holding four bags that Paula owns, “He just went out with his friend, Julian, but Angie told me that he would be here in 20.”

“Good. Keep up, girl, we don’t want to be late.” She barked at Gwen, and they continued walking into the main building.

At the other side of the building, the girl who was rejected in the audition is sitting at a quiet spot surrounded by tropical plants and a simple stone trail at the back of the main building.

Her name is Charlene Lee. And she had done every work possible all her life, because of her ailing father, Lee Bo-Gyeong, but he had unfortunately passed away a year ago.

She could feel the strain in her muscles as she sat with her knees up on her chest. The six-month training for that routine had almost killed her because of the rigorous effort that she had put on it; only to be rejected and even humiliated.

Somehow at this moment she is wishing again what she have wished all her life; that if only she was born a man, then all of her problems might be solved.

Charlene bowed her head on her knees and there she felt her tears fall down.

I’m sorry, Papa. I always let you down. She mournfully thought.

----

Tom and Julian had just got back to the studio and Tom was informed by one of Gwen’s assistant that Paula has also arrived. When the PA left, Julian gave Tom a knowing look.

“What? Paula and I are friends.” Tom replied with a giggle.

Julian shrugged, “I’m not saying anything, man. But from what I saw from the tabloids, she’s cozy with you.”

Then Tom remembered that time they were photographed by the paparazzi; spotted holding hands in Venice Beach, two weeks ago.

“Well, what’s wrong with that? I’m single, she’s single. She’s been through a bad breakup-”

Then Julian continued, “And you’ve also been from a bad breakup.”

Tom laughed as it is true, and it has been a year ago since the last time he dated someone and it certainly didn’t end up well.

They went into the reception area of the building then into a lounge with a bar, where he saw Paula waiting and sitting over a couch. She was wearing a maroon dress with intricate lacing which brought up the honey color to her blonde hair. Tom smiled as soon as their eyes meet.

Julian then nudged him, “I’ll leave you to it, man.”

Tom went over her and the other people that she was talking to, noticed him. One of them is the scriptwriter then the costume designer for the film. They were just catching up with Paula and asking her if she is comfortable with her role for the film.

And her role, actually, is the person that the Triads and Yakuza are looking for because her character is a hacker who have stolen some important data from both parties and has set to have the two syndicate to go at each other.

Then, it would be Tom’s character to save Paula’s character only to have an intimate connection with her.

Tom sat beside Paula and they greeted each other with a kiss on a cheek.

“What took you so long?” Paula whispered to him.

“I’ve been with Julian. When did you get here?” He whispered back and they both looked like conversing with a secret that only the two of them knows about.

“An hour ago. Let’s talk somewhere more private. I’ll meet you at the back of the main building.” She insinuated, then Paula left the circle.

Before walking down the hall, she looked back at Tom to give him a very seducing side-eye.

Tom felt something jolt inside him, and thought, That’s a girl I want to date.

He followed her after a while; Tom saw her walking down a staircase ahead of him and now walking towards the back exit that leads to the outside garden.

When he also got to the exit, he saw the bushy part of the back of the main building, with a long shed and benches all over the lane. He saw her standing and waiting for him.

“Come, Tom. Walk with me. There’s no one else here.” Paula invited him.

Tom stood beside her but instead of taking her hand, he kissed her deeply.

Paula didn’t held back as she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him to give back kisses. But little did they knew, someone was witnessing that scene, and it was Charlene who had just wiped her tears away.

“What? Of all the place?” She muttered.

When they were done pecking each other, Charlene saw that they are going towards where she is, and if they saw her there; they might suspect her that she is snooping around.

And so, before they could walk further, she hid herself in the bush so they won’t see her.

Yeah, great, Cha. Nice work on hiding yourself. She thought as the leaves brushed on her mouth and face.

Tom wrapped his arm around Paula’s shoulder as they started to walk over the bushy lane.

“So how’s you weekend?” Tom asked Paula.

“It’s okay. I got my hair done, you see. I read the scripts, all that stuff. How about you?” Paula then turned to him.

“Me? I was thinking about you the whole time.” Tom whispered and Paula smirked.

But now, they are approaching the spot where Charlene is hiding. And of all the time that something unfortunate could happen, it happened right there and then to Charlene; she saw a centipede crawling over her shoes and was slowly making its way to the ends of her jeans.

Shit. NO! Go away! She panicked as she tried to shake away the centipede.

Right then, Tom and Paula are now standing directly in front of her and only the bush are concealing her from them.

Then, the most embarrassing happened; the centipede went inside her jeans and Charlene responded to what she can only do, to jump around and shake down the centipede.

But then, she jumped out of the bushes to which startled Tom and Paula.

Paula shrieked and then she fell down on her rear in the pavement while Tom was startled.

Charlene kept jumping around but she couldn’t see the centipede crawl out from her jeans. But, she was not ready when she saw both of them looking at her; Tom was puzzled but Paula’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“What the fuck were you doing, hiding in that bush?! Are you a paparazzi or a desperate reporter?” Paula shouted at her as soon as she got up.

Tom had his brows furrowed but he tried to restrain Paula from attacking the girl. Then for a while, he recognized her.

“You’re the girl earlier; on the audition.” Tom pointed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Charlene shyly mumbled.

“What were you doing there?” Tom asked calmly but Paula looked so angry that her cheeks and forehead were red.

“I saw the both of you walk towards here--and I didn’t wanted to interrupt, so I hid myself here... But a centipede got into my jeans.”

Paula placed her hands on her waist and tried to look tall, even though Charlene is actually a head taller than her.

“Ha-ha, what a very plausible excuse. You’re a paparazzi, show me where you hid your camera.” Paula accused her and she even went on frisking Charlene to which Tom stopped her.

“Paula, please. I’m sure she didn’t wanted to be rude so that’s why she hid herself.” Tom said to calm Paula’s nerves down.

Then he approached Charlene, not with anger or fierceness, but with gentleness that she felt something so strange.

“I’m also sorry if Paula scolded at you. But please, don’t do it again. You can go now.” Tom then looked at her sincerely in the eyes.

For a moment, Charlene wanted to go, but when she saw his big blue eyes; looking so serene and heart-stopping, she froze where she is standing. But she snapped out of it and Charlene ran away from the both of them.

She kept running until she reached the second studio that is beside the main building. There, she turned her back at the wall and breathed heavily from running.

“That guy-- who is he? He’s...” And her words trailed off and she remembered his eyes again.

Finally, the centipede crawled away from her ankle to which she kicked away from her.

Charlene was sure that her heartbeat is pounding fast because she ran, but she can feel butterflies in her stomach whenever she remembers that man.

He’s very handsome. And so-- kind. She thought.

She reached for her cheeks and she felt it to be so hot and flustered. Charlene assured herself that it is because she ran, but maybe, she is blushing and it is that man’s fault.

“No way.” She whispered.

Charlene could only wonder, would she ever meet him again?

TITLE OF STORY: He’s My Girl

CHAPTER: (Prologue)

AUTHOR: miss-m-and-her-blog

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Actor!Tom

GENRE: Romance, Action, Drama

RATING: T

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: The readers went through with me with Mr. Perfect, and now here’s another one ^_^ I hope that the readers will like it :D Thanks very much and always, lovelots! <3

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