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fandomwritingbit · 6 months

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Make Me Alright

Henry Emily x fem reader

a/n: wrote this on a whim so apologies for any mistakes.

Warnings: family trauma/dysfunctional family, drug/alcohol addiction, smut, unprotected sex, boss/employee dynamic.

It was manic almost from the second the doors opened. The diner was absolutely full, children shrieking, parents doing all they could not to watch them and waiters getting more stressed by the minute. The restaurant needed all the hands they could get and so, people were going for their shorter than normal breaks staggered out to try and reduce pressure.

You got your break at two o’clock and all was well… until you didn’t come back.

“Mr Afton?” A waitress called, so eager to get her boss’s attention that her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“What?” He snapped back, a wad of cash in his hands as he tried to finalise a table who’d just up and left, abandoning their tab under a glass for anyone to take. It was lucky that he got to it as quickly as he did and the stress of it made his gaze daggers.

“I-I need to go home. I finished 20 minutes ago.” She stuttered on the words, scared of how he was going to react.

He scowled as an instant reflex, but forced himself to breathe it off as he shoved the notes in the till. Stretching his fingers out on the bar in front of him, it’s not her fault. It’s not her fault- it’s not her fault. The internal chanting calmed him enough to face the lass waiting hesitantly for him. “Fine. It’s fine, go. Y/n can take over your tables.”

The young lady nodded and tried to walk away, wanting out as soon as possible. Stopping when he spoke again, “Wait, where is she?” His tone was touching angry again.

“I’m not sure, she’s still on break… I think.” He waved her away, and relief spread across her face. If that was true and you’re just sitting round the back, you’re in for a serious bollocking.

He found someone else to take over what he was doing and tore through the staff door to look for you, he checked the canteen, the walk-ins and the storage room, you were nowhere to be found. By this point he’s fuming and shaking with need for a smoke so he does the unthinkable and knocks on Henry’s door.

Well, ‘knocks’ is generous, he bangs on it and shoves it open without waiting for permission. After all they’d been business partners for years, if Henry was yanking it, it'd be nothing he hasn’t seen before.

“William- you scared the shit out of me. What’s wrong?” Henry was startled and laughed slightly, regretting his reaction when William’s frown intensified.

“What’s wrong?” He approaches his friend with his palms raised in the most condescending way. “We’re run ragged out there and I can’t find Y/n fucking anywhere.” Henry sighed, pushing out his chair and going over to his co-worker.

He’s very used to calming William down and instantly adopts the sensible diplomatic tone that made him an infuriatingly good businessman. “Right, go and take a breather. There’s no point getting pissed off, I’ll go and find her.”

He took more convincing but after around five minutes persuading Will to take himself outside, Henry left his office to look for you. It wasn’t like you at all to play hooky, you’re one of the most professional staff here, so he wasn’t angry with you, just worried if anything.

“I can’t do this right now, Lily. I’m at work.” You speak as quietly as you can into the phone, beg your sister to leave you be, she’s been calling you all day. Leaving voicemail after voicemail, each one spiralling into insanity. She’s shouting, crying, pleading. You had no choice but to call her back, you were worried about her, so on your break you slipped into a broom closet and prayed no one would overhear you. Boy, did you regret that now.

You can tell your sister is scowling on the other end of this phone as her words are venomous and dripping with accusation. “I never ask you for anything! Not a fucking thing! And you won’t help me when I need it.”

“You know I won’t give you money for drink-”

“It’s not for booze, I told you!” She practically screams, she’s a liar, you can hear alcohol in her voice, she’s hardly able to get a sentence out without slurring it. You feel bad for her, of course, but you can’t do this again. Pissing your money up the wall all the time just so she and her drunk of a boyfriend can front more booze and drugs, you’re tired of it and it keeps happening, over and over. Hell, you block her and she gets a new number or uses a phonebox just to reach you. “Why are you so selfish- You- you’d see me hungry, not paying my rent because you won’t support your sister.”

“Lily, you’re drunk. I can’t keep doing this…” Your voice cracks, emotions at an all time high, it’s futility, anger, frustration, sadness all rolled up into one wave of tears that has you sobbing in this cupboard.

Rustling on the other end of the line makes your heart clench, the sound of a low voice hissing answered by your sister.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh?” It’s a man’s voice, her bastard boyfriend. “You think you’re so much better than us. Acting like you don’t have the money to help out, you’re fucking disgusting-” The way he shouts these insults at you leaves you no choice but to hang up. You just can’t take it anymore. Struggling to see through your tears you end the call and block her number, knowing now you’ll have to change yours. You just wish she could pull through her addiction but it just gets worse and worse.

It’s as your lip is trembling and tears are cutting down your cheeks that someone knocks on the cupboard door, it almost makes you jump, but with the amount of noise you’re making you’re not surprised someone found you.

“Who is it?” You ask thickly, voice sounding nothing like yourself. You sound so emotional, it prompts Henry to open the door quickly, scared that maybe you’ve hurt yourself or that something terrible has happened.

The sight of you dishevelled, an outraged look on your face as you stare at him makes him panic. For such a beautiful and bright girl like you to be this upset scares him beyond belief. “God, Y/n. Are you al-” He tries to ask but doesn't get a chance before you reach out and grab him by the shirt, pulling him inside this closet and shoving him up against the wall. You slam your lips on his, motivated purely by the urge to forget about your troubles in the arms of your handsome boss. It’s so stupid but you don’t care.

You pull away slightly, reddened eyes looking up at him. “No, I’m not. Make me feel alright, Mr Emily.” You flash him a twisted smile before kissing him again and this time he kisses you back, he hasn’t a clue why you’re doing this, why you’re upset, any of it. But who is he to refuse the desperate way you’re clinging to him, your hands tight fists in his shirt. The kiss is rushed, no finesse in it, just hungry, your tongue eager in his mouth as you push up against him.

Fuck, you’re so gorgeous and that perfume of yours is driving him crazy, this feels like a dream, but your quick fingers grabbing his now prominent erection is achingly real. He can’t help but moan at the feeling, breaking the kiss to rest his head on the door behind him.

You just want to be so lost in the magnetic pull of the sex that you can’t string a thought together, and the equally desperate way he reciprocates your touch is just right. It takes him a moment to be truly comfortable enough to touch you properly, his hands taking a handful of your breasts and sliding down to the curve of your arse. You take that as your greenlight to start unbuckling his belt, struggling for a second but managing. It’s graceless the way you pull his trousers down, his boxers soon following, him somehow fumbling more than you to do the same.

His fingers slide over your clothed pussy, stroking a rhythm over your bundle of nerves, your growing warm slick sticking the fabric to you and sending another wave of eagerness over you. You interrupt the circling of your clit to pull your panties down, just wanting to feel him inside you. You take hold of him and drag his tip over your pussy before lining it up with your entrance and he doesn’t need any more signalling than that.

Emotions must’ve made you overlook the thickness of his cock because as he presses into you with a grunt, you moan at the way he stretches you. You’re so tight and hot around him that he can’t help but thrust into you instantly, not fast but deep, and you’re practically drooling. If someone walked past this cupboard right now, they’d no doubt hear the sounds from the two of you, which only got louder when he pulled out to turn you around and press you against the door. Shoving back inside and resuming a universally selfish pace of fucking in and out of you. You roll your hips against him near furiously, spurred on by an amounting tightness in your core begging to snap.

“Don’t stop, I’m so fucking close.” You hiss against his ear and the filthiness of the words threatens him to burst inside you. And he obeys, doubling down on the pace and trying to forget about the greedy grip of your pussy, tightening around him as you get closer to your peak. You need this so bad and it’s evident in your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips bucking against him without shame.

It hits you hard, forcing a desperate whine from your lips, your cunt squeezing down around him in fluttering waves. He pulls himself from you in a daze, unable to cope with your delicious walls. You have enough sense about you to grab his cock and stroke him through his climax whilst yours flickers away, his cum trailing down the back of your hand and a deep groan echoing through his chest.

Later in the evening, after you’ve bought and inserted a new SD card into your phone and told your mum that you’re cutting contact with your sister, you’re sitting trying to relax away the emotional numbness that today has brought on. But pretty soon a knock at your door has you getting up from the sofa. You open it put out because you’re not expecting anyone. And for the second time that day, behind the door was your boss Mr Emily.

“Mr Emily, what are you doing here?” You speak whilst stepping out of the door and closing it behind you, joining him on the front step.

He smiles sheepishly, “Henry, please.” After today there’s no need for such formality, the least he can offer you is his Christian name. “I thought maybe I could come in… and we could…” The words die on his tongue when he sees your brows furrow, a look of guilt spreading over you before settling in a hard expression.

“That’s not a good idea.” You speak firmly, you don’t exactly regret what happened earlier but it’s not something you want to continue. “You can’t just turn up at people’s houses- where did you get my address? Employee records?” The way his eyes widen tells you the answer. You shake your head and step back to close the door, leaving him standing there embarrassed and confused.

#fnaf #william afton #fnaf smut #henry emily #henry emily x reader #henry emily x you #henry emily smut

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yanderemommabean · 3 years

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Okay but consider! Hawks was the lead in a band. He was the lead for years, from early teens into adulthood and then he just...burned out. It wasn't drugs or sex (or maybe it was, up to you), but just how fake it was. He couldn't do anything without approval from corporate, and all these fans, they didn't like him, they liked the persona they made for him. And it got to him, bit by bit. He's a shell of himself when he meets his darling, and suddenly it's like looking into the face of a muse.

Another concert, another ten hours on his feet as he has to do make up, practice, make sure the instruments work with the crew, and of course make the fans nearly wet themselves with his appearance and voice alone. Every day it’s “OH MY GOD IT’S HAWKS” or “IT’S HIM IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!”.

They don’t even really care about how he feel about being smooshed into selfies and made into clout fuel for people who only want the most likes. Which to be fair, he’s apart of that group sometimes, he might have wings but he’s far from a saint, but even to him it gets a bit much with how much they only want to gain attention.

It’s not nearly as luxurious as people assume. He has a contract, has to make an album every few months otherwise his fame and band are dropped like a bag of trash into a junkyard. He’s stressed an unable to make any new songs, and the fact he has to preform while trying to perfect his newest works drains him considerably.

He doesn’t have time to be himself. He doesn’t have time or luxury to just be Keigo. No. He has to keep up this act and be the flirtatious, rebelling bad boy all the fans masturbate too and fantasize about. (Kudos to the fic writers by the way! He’s seen some good shit!).

Hawks vs Keigo. No one knows the real him. They all go for the media showered, Instagram famous persona with his band mates tagging alongside. Keigo is a more laid back, needing personal space, wanting time alone to think kind of person. He doesn’t mind doing things and going out, he just gets his daily quota of social interaction in a matter of minutes.

So when you have millions of fans wanting your attention and grabbing onto you all the fucking time, you can imagine how unwilling and uninterested he is in even preforming or socializing.

Tonight was no different, Keigo and the band sang and played their hearts out, got a few fans some autographs and let their ears ache from how loud the fans would squeal. Yeah yeah yeah same old phrases spout with new faces.

Remembering there was a bar nearby, Keigo decided it was time for a few drinks. Or a hundred. He fidgets for the sunglasses in his bag, and slides on a different shirt to head out in, trying to make his hair style different as well when he walks by a window and sees it’s still spiked. It wasn’t the most convincing disguise but it would do.

Sliding into a seat near the corner of the bar, Keigo slumps with a huff, letting his hands run down his face while he tries to let his mind slow down and soak in what’s been happening all day. The concert, the meet and greet, the signing, the interviews, the managers constant reminder that he needed new songs and soon.

“Need a breather?” Your voice mused, catching his attention for a second. Ah. Great. A fan. Time to put on the mask again. He gives a wry expression and nods his head “even party boys need a break. Care to help one out?”.

Ah. Weak flirting. That would never go by with the press. Where’s his skill?!

You noticed the tired expression in his eyes, how he forced a smile to keep your attention on his more well known persona. You didn’t buy it. You’ve seen that look in too many people to let it slide and go unnoticed. This man needed a beer and needed one pronto.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you sit in the seat next to him, drumming your fingers on the counter as you try to think of an answer that wasn’t too forward. “Listen...I can tell you’re super exhausted. You can drop the act, ya know?”. You cough, face turning a bit red as you realize that you’re talking to a celebrity. You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter, you’re both human and capable of communicating.

It shouldn’t be a big deal to speak your mind to the hottest, most sought after singer in the world. Who are you kidding? Of course it is.

Keigo arches an eyebrow at your statement, and sits closer to the counter. It’s odd having someone see through his act. Sure his disguise sucked and anyone within ten feet could tell he was Hawks, but to have someone see he wasn’t who the media said, it was a shocking but well welcomed breath of fresh air.

“You...heh you cut to the chase don’t ya, kid?” He said with mirth.

“Well I hate bullshit. I-I would rather be upfront and honest.” You admit sheepishly, looking away from his hazel eyes timidly. “Didnt mean to offend you or anything” you added, hands shaking.

Offend? He’s the exact opposite! Finally, someone who’s honest and not conceded! He’s only just met you and he’s felt more of a connection here than with his own band! “Nah nah! You’re fine! I love bluntness. It’s nice to have every now and again when you’re used to bullshit”.

You giggle at that, nodding in agreement. Soon you two break more of the ice, discussing the most random but humorous things, not noticing how Keigo’s eyes gloss over with awe and admiration. It’s been so long since he could let go and be himself, he never wants to leave your company. It’s an ache in his mind to think about since he’s got to be back on the tour bus in less than two hours.

“Hey-“ his hand snatches your phone from your hands as you were replying to a friend “-I’m giving you my number ok? I’m about to have to head out and I would rather die than miss talking to you”.

As he types the number into your contacts, you couldn’t help but freeze up. Was this actually happening? You just spent hours chatting away with Hawks, and are now getting his contact information?! Surely you were drugged. Had to be! No fucking way is this happening like some cheap hallmark Christmas plot!

“Y/N right?” He slides the phone back over to you, giving you his signature flirtatious grin “I better hear from you tonight. I’ll lose sleep if I think a new friend is hurt or ignoring me”.

You blush even harder, and nod, not being able to really speak. He stands, patting your shoudler as he slides his sunglasses back on “Oh! I almost forgot-“ he pulls out a wad of cash, slamming it on the counter “For the drinks. It’s the least I can do for someone as entertaining as you”.

You cover your face in your hands and try to stop the flurry of emotions bubbling up. You thank him, hearing him chuckle as he leaves the bar, not seeing the smile on his face as he walks back to where the tour bus was parked.

———————————————

Days go by, and every chance Keigo gets he’s messaging you, becoming antsy when you don’t respond within seconds. Sometimes he sends hundreds of messages a day, sometimes he’s on the phone with you for hours, or simply stalking your social media when you tell him you’re going to bed.

As long as he interacts with you, he’s sated and calm. Thinking up songs has never felt so easy, each day he makes a new hit, making the managers happy that he finally quit acting so down in the dumps. Months go by, and he’s still on the top charts, being the idol fanboys and girls pair themselves with.

But he doesn’t pay attention to that. He’s focused on you and only you. That shy encounter with you has changed his perspective, and all he wants to do is be with you. Flirting with you was easy enough but you always turned him down, saying things that didn’t make sense.

You’d say “Oh I don’t think we’d be compatible...you’d get tired of me” or “I think you’re just needing a hook up, but I’m flattered!”.

You’re crazy. He could never get tired of you. What will it take to get you to be with him and travel the world together?! Perhaps you just need more persuasion? A romantic gift? A gesture that proves he’s serious?

Well if that’s what you need then he’ll happily supply it. Just give him a few days, he’ll make sure you see how serious he is about being yours (and you being his. Only his). Should he make a song about what he loves about you the most? Maybe a song on how he fell for you?

A song on what he wants to do with you and your body? Or maybe you need a bit of danger, and need him to state what he’s willing to do to get you.

He’ll figure it out. Soon you’ll be his forever muse, he just needs to serenade you first.

(This was shit I know I know but I love this AU so much! -Mommabean )

#Yandere band au #band AU #Yandere Hawks #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #Yandere bnha #Yandere male #Mommabean #bnha

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lumelii · 3 years

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BREAKING IN ~|~ FUSHIGURO TOJI X FEM!READER

Summary: Your business partner and you are celebrating the end of a difficult project. Lucky you.

Content Warning: nsfw, smut, fwb situation, FEM!READER established "relationship", dilf!Toji, face fucking, slight degradation, face slapping (just once) (if I forgot any let me know)

Note: Big thank you to Moni and @shokami for being my guinea pigs on this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

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There were few things Toji liked about traveling for work. He liked seeing new places. He hated long plane rides. Hotels were nice, but sleeping on the mattresses for too long wreaked havoc on his back. He enjoyed making new business connections. Most importantly, however, he hated leaving his kids for long periods.

They were on his mind now, as he checked his phone periodically through the business party he was attending, celebrating the completion of another building Fushiguro Design Group had planned and engineered, this time in New York City. It was almost time for them to go to school in Tokyo, usually one of them called before they left so he knew they were up. His finger paused over the home phone contact for a moment before he put it away with a sigh. Megumi and Tsumiki were both teenagers now, almost in high school. They didn’t need him hovering all the time.

“Congratulations on another success, Mr. Fushiguro.” One of the executives of the company who contracted the firm came up to shake his hand. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“It was a group effort.” His eyes searched the room, hoping to find a distraction to get him out of this conversation before he put his foot in his mouth. He didn’t deal with clients, he had employees who did that. He wasn’t great at curtailing his frustrations when in conversation. Especially with this client, who changed their design at least four times, which meant he had to redo all the math. Four times.

Luckily, his distraction came just a few seconds later as his phone began to ring. Looking at the caller ID, he felt a wave of relief seeing his home phone number. At least that meant one of the kids was up. He wasn’t counting on Gojou.

“Please excuse me.” Toji stepped away and walked out onto the balcony just off the ballroom, closing the door securely behind him before answering.

“DAD!” He held the phone away from his ear just slightly when Tsumiki yelled even before he said hello. He brought it back to his ear once he was sure his eardrum wouldn’t be ruptured.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” He answered sarcastically. “How are you? Getting ready for school?”

“Megumi stole my notebook again!”

“I did NOT!” Toji heard Megumi yell in the background.

“It had my homework in it! If I don’t get it back, the teacher is going to dock points!”

“Did you already look in your backpack? Everywhere in your room?”

“No, because Megumi took it!”

“Princess, look in your backpack and your room first. If you can’t find it, have Gojou help you. Now give the phone to Megumi.”

He heard her huff and set the receiver down, yelling for Megumi to get on the phone. A few moments later, the receiver was picked up again. This time, Megumi’s voice. “Hi Dad.”

“I swear to god, Megumi, if you have her notebook and you’re lying about it just to bother her—” Toji warned.

“I’m NOT!” He yelled again. “I was over at Yuuji’s house last night anyway, why would I need her homework when we did ours together?”

“Why weren’t you home last night?” Toji’s eyes narrowed even though his son couldn’t see him. “It’s a school night.”

“Yuuji and I were working on homework. Plus his neighbor made sweets. She sent some home with me. I’ll save you some. Are you coming home soon?” His tone was hopeful. It made Toji’s chest hurt. He missed his family.

“I’m going to be on the first flight back tomorrow morning, I promise.” Toji told him. “Are you ready for school?”

“Not yet. I can’t find my slacks.”

“Look on the right side of your closet, they’re probably in there. Where’s Gojou? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I think he’s still sleeping.” The phone was set down again, and Toji had to wait what felt like forever until he finally heard Gojou grumbling on the other end of the line.

“G’morning sunshine.” He yawned. “What’s up?”

“Are you aware the kids are ready to tear each other’s throats out?” Toji frowned. “And why are you still sleeping? They’re almost ready to leave for school.”

“Kento was on the phone late last night freaking out, I had to calm him down.” Gojou stifled a yawn again. “I made sure they have their breakfast and their school stuff is ready.”

“Tsumiki’s missing her notebook.”

“It was in the living room last I saw, I’ll make sure one of the dogs didn’t take it.”

“I KNEW IT!” Tsumiki screeched in the background.

“Shit, I have to go, Toji. Call later.”

The line went dead before Toji could ask any questions. He looked down at his lock screen with a frown, debating on calling back but ultimately deciding against it while he put his phone away. He would call later once both kids were at school, and keep an eye out for breaking news of fratricide in Tokyo.

He looked to the balcony doors when they opened, relaxing slightly when he saw his preferred distraction walking out with two drinks in hand.

You closed the door behind you before walking up to him, holding out his favorite, an Old Fashioned. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

He took the proffered drink and downed it in one gulp while you sipped your Gibson carefully. “Am I that predictable?”

“When it comes to these kinds of parties, yes. Either you were about to lose your temper and needed a breather, or you had to take a call.” You answered. “Problems at home?”

Toji shook his head. “Just wish we were back.”

“It’s been a month. I can’t wait to get back to Tokyo. No matter what anyone says, no one can beat Tokyo ramen.” You leaned your elbows on the balcony railing. He leaned next to you, copying your pose while you both looked over the glittering New York skyline in silence.

“Why don’t we focus on projects at home for a while?” You offered. “Or in Japan, at least. That way we wouldn’t have to be gone for too long, you’d still be able to go home at night.”

“We have some pretty big clients lined up in Dubai and Europe. I don’t think they’d want to wait until we felt like traveling again.”

“You’re the boss. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” You reminded him with a smile. “I can take someone else with me, then send the specs once we’re done. I’ll even let you pick your stand-in.”

“I’ll pick my stand-in whether you like them or not.” He smirked before continuing. “I’m the boss.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink. “Just don’t make it fucking Ren. I can’t stand that asswipe.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He promised.

The conversation wasn’t typical between a boss and employee, but you were more than that. You were partners at the firm, Toji was just the one in charge. You’d built the firm together from the ground up, making it the success it was today.

He had come to you, needing an architect for his own firm back when it was only an idea, offering two-hundred million yen out of his personal coffers as an incentive. But it wasn’t the money that had made you say yes. It was the almost maniacal determination in his eyes. He had something to prove, and he would burn the world to the ground to do it.

You learned later his wife had just died a few weeks prior, and it was part of his promise to her on her deathbed that he follow through with his plan of opening his firm. You’d been with him since the beginning, in the early days where you both spent countless sleepless nights completing projects other firms only dared to take on, through the intervention staged by his two closest friends Nanami Kento and Gojou Satoru, as Toji became consumed by his work as a way to suppress his grief, to the point where his son almost didn’t recognize him when he came home. You’d been by his side through the boom of success that befell the firm just a few short years after its founding, along with the money that soon flooded both your pockets, and his second “marriage” to a model he met at a film festival, who promptly disappeared after moving her daughter into his home. He had been surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal, submitting the paperwork to make Tsumiki his own once they were completely certain her mother was never coming back, with a hefty cash incentive and NDA to tie it with a nice bow.

He’d been through a fair amount with you as well, dealing with toxic family that had come out of the woodwork as the company started to increase your wealth, demanding money for so-called “investments” they had made into you by providing basic care until you finally left at fifteen. Through the sudden death of your fiancé, where Toji was the only one who could understand and help you navigate through the unending darkness that consumed your life for almost a year afterwards. He’d ignored some of your questionable choices as you tried to adjust to your new normal, but also was not afraid to step in when necessary if the choices turned destructive. You had thought it was just to protect the interest of the firm, but when he had come to your apartment after a sobbing phone call on the anniversary of your fiancé’s death and held you so you wouldn’t feel so alone, you knew it was because he cared about you.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” You asked after watching the sunset sink below the horizon, breaking you both out of your reflection.

“I’d rather drive an ice pick through my skull.” He admitted.

You laughed, the sound echoing off the glass windows and empty air around you. “We could always dip.”

“Wouldn’t they be offended, us leaving early?” He turned to face you with one hand on the railing. You ignored the way his suit jacket strained against the hard planes of his chest.

“Mari’s in there, it’ll be fine.” You said, referring to your project manager. “She loves people. She’ll have them eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“If you say so.” He took the empty glass from you, setting it on the railing before taking your hand to thread it through his arm. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

You made a hasty exit from the party, repeating your excuse of an early flight at least a dozen times so no one would hinder your escape. No one bothered to ask follow-up questions. If they had, they might have found out you were flying private back to Tokyo, and the plane could leave whenever you goddamn pleased, obliterating your excuse.

Luckily, the lie held until you were safely in the cab of an elevator, heading up to the floor that held your two hotel rooms. The company had offered the two massive adjacent suites to you both, taking up an entire floor of the newly constructed hotel. Toji probably could have brought his kids if he had wanted, but he didn’t want to pull them out of school for that long. You were happy to have the entire suite to yourself. It meant you didn’t have to listen to neighbors through all hours of the night, and you didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone up when working late at night.

“The flight leaves at six tomorrow morning.” Toji told you as you stepped off onto your floor. “There’s going to be a car to pick us up an hour before.”

“Did you already send your bags with the service?” You stopped just outside your door, directly across the hall from Toji’s.

He nodded. “I saw yours were ready, I had them sent as well.”

“Thank you.” You looked behind your shoulder to your door then back at him, his hands in his pockets, watching you like he was expecting you to say something else. He looked downright sinful in his all-black designer suit, his normally straight hair styled back with hair gel but still looking soft to the touch. The watch that cost more than most people’s houses glinted in the warm light of the hallway as he played with his cufflinks, also worth a small fortune. You would know. You bought them.

He quirked his eyebrow at your examination, almost like a challenge. Damn him.

“Do you want to come in for a nightcap?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I thought you would never ask.”

You smiled back and turned to the door, inserting your keycard to hear the small click of the lock disengaging, slipping inside with him closely following. “We haven’t broken in this one, yet.”

He was on you before you had the chance to slip out of your shoes. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave him a sense of urgency, the sweet bourbon still on his lips as they slid over yours with a practiced ease, or that you had an early flight in the morning and needed as much sleep as possible to prevent jet lag. If it were the latter, this was definitely not the activity to be participating in.

These liaisons only happened on trips, or late nights at the office or your apartment, where there would be no prying eyes. You both didn’t need questions. It was fulfilling a primal desire, one that burned within you even as both your hearts were locked by grief. There was an understanding. You cared for him, and he for you, but not in a romantic way. You were making sure the needs of a friend were met.

The “breaking in” was also a tradition as well, ever since your first major deal had been completed. When the building was finally complete for a major project, you and Toji would sneak off somewhere to do the deed, christening the building like a bottle of champagne before a ship’s maiden voyage. It had started as a joke, a way to release the pent-up stress that resulted from design and construction but eventually became a tradition. As the business grew over the years, you and Toji had christened well over a hundred completed projects with none the wiser.

You pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders before moving your hands between your fused bodies to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, working quickly in the tight space as Toji didn’t allow you any room to pull away. You struggled to focus while his kisses moved down to your chin and then your neck, licking and sucking the skin with reckless abandon. You let out a breathy moan as he bit your pulse point with a low growl feeling your heartbeat thrum beneath his teeth. Toji pushed your hands away when his shirt was finally on the floor behind him. He grabbed your face between his hands bringing your attention back to him to kiss you. Ever the multitasker, his tongue explored your mouth while he began his task of getting you naked.

“Don’t rip the dress.” You warned under his kiss while his large hands grappled for the zipper. “I borrowed it, it has to be in perfect condition.”

“I’ll buy Mei Mei a new one.” Gripping the top of the dress with a hand on each size of the zipper, he yanked hard, the fabric splitting like he had just ripped a sheet of paper as it fell off your body. His eyes went wide as the dress pooled at your feet, revealing the matching black lace set you had underneath. The cups barely contained your breasts and did little to cover your most delicate areas, nipples peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed.

You grinned and kneeled in front of him, starting to undo the buckle of his pants. “Paris paid off, then?”

A sigh fell past his lips as you finally pulled his pants and boxers down, wasting no time to wrap your hand around his thick cock, pumping languidly. His breath hitched as you licked his angry red tip slowly, pulling back to prevent him from pushing past your lips when his hips moved forward. His hand went to the crown of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Shit. You’ve been saving that since Paris?”

“I’ve worn this plenty before. You’ve just never seen it.” Your smirk was devilish. His grip on your hair tightened as you took him to the base, neatly trimmed hair tickling your nose while you forced your throat to relax. You tried to gather as much spit as you could to make the glide easier as you bobbed your head. Toji was a large man with an equally large and impressive dick, almost too much for you to take in. Through years of practice, both on him and several inferior specimens, you had learned just how to hollow your cheeks, how to move, and how to swallow to have a man cumming in minutes flat.

“Fuck, you okay?” He panted when he thrust involuntarily, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly. Once you composed yourself, you hummed around his cock and nodded. Grabbing his other free hand, you placed it on the back of your head with his other one before taking him back down your throat. A silent invitation.

He wasted no time responding, beginning to thrust into your mouth with no reserve. You grabbed his hips to steady yourself as you relaxed and remembered to breathe through your nose. Tears ran down your cheeks while he choked you with his massive cock, mixing with your mascara and staining your skin black. The salty tang of precum hit your tongue, mixing with the saliva that fell from your lips the faster he moved. You smiled around his cock when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough for him to let out a loud groan.

“Stop.” He growled, pulling you off him and tilting your chin up. He took in your tear-streaked face, your chin and neck covered with a mix of saliva and pre-cum. When he dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, you caught it between your teeth, sucking him in and lavving the digit with your tongue. He chuckled darkly, hooking his thumb in your mouth and using it as a guide for you to stand up in front of him.

“Messy doll.” He crooned. You had to admit, you were shocked as he leaned forward and licked up your neck, tasting both of you on your skin. While you were distracted with his sinful lips, you heard another distinct ripping sound before you felt the cool air of the room against your bare ass. You broke away and looked down to see your panties in tatters on the ground.

“Can you at least leave one piece of my clothing intact tonight?” You frowned at him, your voice slightly hoarse from his antics. “Those were expensive. I know we’re made of money now, but I’d prefer not to spend it all.”

He ignored you and reached around to plant a firm smack on your cheeks. “In the bedroom. On the bed.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you decided to have a bit of fun as you walked through the massive suite. You could feel his eyes on you, almost predatory when you entered the bedroom and caught sight of the king-sized bed, made with fresh linens and piled high with pillows, accented in the light greys and blacks that matched the rest of the suite. You flopped down on the bed with a giggle, back down, and propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

He frowned at your position as he walked forward. “I said on the bed.” He rumbled.

“I am on the bed.” You played dumb and cocked your head to the side. “What did you mean?”

He shook his head and stopped at the edge, towering over you. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s a nice break from those girls that call you daddy, isn’t it?” You purred.

The growl that ripped through his chest made your heart jump and another wave of arousal coat your lips as he surged forward, gripping your hips to flip you onto your stomach and pull them up so you were on your knees, your throbbing center level with his cock. He ground against you, slipping his length along your drenched labia to coat it, the glide easy as your spit mixed with your slick. He was more than ready to pound into you.

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he put a hand on your neck and pushed you down so your face was pressed into the mattress. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath on your back and trailing up as he bent over you to whisper in your ear.

“You know, I was going to be nice, maybe take it slow at first so you wouldn’t be absolutely wrecked sitting for fourteen hours on our flight tomorrow.” He hummed. “But now, I think I’m going to like seeing you squirm.”

It wasn’t even a second later before he slammed into your pussy, the stretch almost painful as you wailed at the intrusion and he began a brutal pace that rivaled his speed while he was fucking your face just moments before. You were already sopping wet from sucking his dick earlier, turned on beyond belief as you thought about what lay in store for you after he was done with your mouth being his personal fleshlight.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He hissed, spanking your ass to feel you clench around his dick. “No one can stretch this cunt as good as I can, can they? You need a fat cock to satisfy you, those skinny dicks can’t even get you wet.”

You moaned an affirmative, playing along with his narrative as he pistoned his hips into you. You could feel every vein on him as they dragged along your walls, his tip hitting that soft spot inside you with every thrust. There were plenty of other dicks that had gotten you wet, but it was true his was the most impressive, and the one that had more knowledge of just how to make you scream, monster dick or not. He had that advantage over every other man you slept with.

The slap of his hips against yours echoed through the cavernous room as Toji grabbed your upper arms, pulling them behind your back and forcing your back in arch, his thrust becoming more shallow but no less punishing. You bit your lip to control the noises you were making, but whines still escaped.

When the new position didn’t produce his desired response from you, he released your arms without any ceremony causing your upper body to fall limp back to the bed. You gasped as Toji pressed his hips flush to yours, curling his body on top of yours with one powerful arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from pulling away while his tip continually massaged your g-spot with every roll of his hips into you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He murmured in your ear, his voice steady without any sign of effort. His stamina was something to marvel.

“You know how it feels.” You moaned back, unable to control yourself. You were so close, just ready to reach that peak if he would only speed up. You reached back with one hand and gripped his hip hoping that would encourage him to resume his previous pace.

He took your hand from his hip and put it back near your head, delivering a harsh smack to your ass. The sharp sting of pleasure was what you needed for your back to arch, squeezing around him while you fucked yourself back onto his cock to prolong your climax as much as you could.

Toji pulled out as you finally slowed down, his heavy cock bouncing against his leg as he sat up against the headboard and patted his thigh, signaling for you to climb on. You wasted no time in doing so, raising yourself on shaky legs to straddle his lap. His hands moved to cup your ass as you settled over him, taking his length in hand and sinking down onto it with a sharp exhale through your nose. You could almost feel him in your throat in this position, the stretch still borderline uncomfortable even after he had already stretched you out, coupled with the sensitivity of just having orgasmed.

His gentle grip turned hard just as you were about to start bouncing to stop your movements. You gave him a confused look but understood when his hands started to guide you in grinding on his lap. The added friction on your clit against his pelvis made you sigh in pleasure, just a tinge of overstimulation creeping through the tightness already building in your stomach again. In this position with the lack of harsh movements he was able to play with your breasts, which he always gave proper worship.

His large hands made your breasts look small as he covered the left, slipping your nipple between his fingers and rolling it while he cupped the other, pushing it up and licking at the flesh. You sighed at the rough texture of the scar marring his lips against your sensitive skin and wrapped your arms around his head, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. He loved to tease, licking and sucking all around your breasts until you were about to beg, arching your back further into his touch. You hated begging him, hated admitting how well he could affect you. But you had known each other for so long, you knew each other better than anyone else.

You whined as his lips finally closed around the pert bud, laying the flat of his tongue over the sensitive skin. You felt his lips stretch into a smile against your skin at your vocalizations before he moved to your other breast, immediately latching onto the nipple to produce a breathy moan. You knew he was enjoying himself from the way his hips matched each roll of your own, driving deeper as he got lost in the feeling.

“I got your milkies.” You whispered, part of your sinister trick to bring him back to earth. You were starved for actual friction, grinding not providing the drag on your insides you craved.

He pulled back with a soft pop and frowned, though his pupils were still blown out. “You did not just say that.”

You shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

“Way to kill the mood.” He mumbled, pushing your breasts together to bury his face between them, licking through your cleavage and up your chest.

“Then why are you still hard?” You squeezed down on him deliberately. His eyes grew dark as he looked up at you through thick lashes and you knew you were in for it.

With one quick movement you were under him, back pressed into the pillows while he kneeled between your legs still holding your waist so he could stay buried inside you, your hips tilted so you were at an angle. You struggled to sit up trying to resume your previous position, but his strong hold on you didn’t allow you any room before he continued burying himself in your velvet walls. You could barely breathe from the force of his thrusts, twice as hard as before but just as fast.

You could have killed him from how composed he looked as he watched you slowly lose control. He watched you with an almost curious expression, studying how your brow drew together and short gasps fell past your lips while he was barely breaking a sweat. You refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans. If he wanted them, he’d have to earn them.

“I know you like taking it from the back, but I think I like this better.” He mused, voice even like he wasn’t balls deep in your cunt. “I can see the look on your face when you lose control.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” You gasped, your words stuttering with each of his thrusts.

“No, that’s your job.” He grinned devilishly and bent down over you, resting on his elbows. “Scream for me, little slut. Let the floors around us know how good I fuck.”

You opened your mouth to retort but a loud scream came out instead as Toji sneaked his hand between you to roll your clit between two fingers. You barely felt his breath on your skin as you shattered beneath him, screaming just like he wanted as your orgasm crashed over you, ten times as intense as the one he had just given you. You gripped the pillow under your head and turned your face into it so he couldn’t see just how much you were enjoying this.

In an instant, you felt the pillow ripped from beneath your head and his hand come into contact with your cheek. The sting of his slap was dulled by the pleasure still running over your body as he gripped your chin tightly in one of his large hands, forcing you to look in his eyes, your noses almost touching. Your eyebrows knit together and mouth open on a silent moan made him finally push as far in as he could on a final thrust, painting your inner walls white with his cum as he groaned loudly. The roll of his hips didn’t stop until he deposited every last drop within you, until you could feel his cum leaking out the sides of his dick. How could he cum so fucking much?

His hands turned gentle as he pulled out, smoothing your hair off your sweaty forehead and tracing his fingers over the hickeys he’d left on your neck. He bent down to ghost his lips on your hairline before hauling himself off the bed and walking toward the bathroom. You could faintly hear him rummaging around through your post-coital fog, coming back with a warm damp towel and starting the task of cleaning you up.

While he did, he grabbed the phone from the room and dialed room service, ordering two meals, along with ice cream at your insistence, billing it to his room. Not that it mattered, you were staying here on your host’s dime. When he was done cleaning you, he laid on his side next to you, smiling down fondly as you still tried to catch your breath.

“You did good.” He whispered, caressing your face. You managed a weak smile and laughed.

“Don’t get soft on me now, Fushiguro.” You sighed. “I might just lose respect for you.”

He smiled down at you, basking in the afterglow of your liaison. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Tags: @oikawaandkuroostan, @gummy-dummy

#growing pains #fushiguro toji #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic

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my-headcanons-academia · 3 years

Text

Jobs 1A students should never have, pt 1

I can't find a gif of everyone together ;-;

• Baku Squad in retail.

Let me start this by saying no one should have to work in retail but anyways,

- Katsuki Both-Parents-In-The-Fashion-Industry Bakugou actually has a good sense of style and is really good at estimating peoples sizes, what fbric and cut would be flattering and what wouldn't, but he has a hard time with "the customers always right" rule bECAUSE THEY ARE NOT. THAT BELT DOES NO FAVOURS TO YOUR WAISTLINE OR SHOES, KAREN. IT LOOKS GOOD ON CAROL BECAUSE CAROL HAS A DIFFERENT BODYSHAPE, KAREN.

- Denki was playing Pokemon Go (yes he still plays it) and fell into the metal pole that's holding all the clothes up and he accidentally shocks it and now every item on that pole has static shock and it kept electric-shocking customers for days

- He treats the security camera's like he's playing FNAF and makes bets on who buys what. Sero always wins the bets. No one knows why. Not even and especially Sero.

- If the place has trolleys he is absolutely go-carting in them against Mina when the store closes. Sero attempts to stop them with his tape to make barricades but he made it too high and the trolley goes under while Denki just jumps over it. It would have even been impressive if when he landed back in the trolley if it stayed up on all four wheels instead of tipping over smashing into the kids clothes. Could have been worse. Could have crashed into Bakugou. Who was in the kids clothes isle restocking. Sero planned Denki's soon approaching funeral that day.

- Mina tells customers what she thinks looks good. And let me just say, I love Mina, I really do, but this girl designed her own hero costume and you can tell. It's what she thinks looks good. She has the fuff collar shoulder thingy with a skin-tight turquoise thing with a few purple splotches and then?? just normal boring-ass looking boots?? She rocks it, of course, it's Mina, but no one else could. That's the problem with her giving advice. No one else rocks it like her. The retail shop is a circus and she's making the clowns. But at least the customers feel good about themselves when they leave. Not when they come back to return the clothes after having worn them in public though.

- She and Bkaugou have so many fights over this stuff.

- Mina also customises stock. Glitter, stylish tears, that stuff. No one let her but no one can stop her.

- Sero and Kirishima actually know what they're doing. The angry customers is draining but Sero is great at packaging and Kirishima is great at transporting new stock as well as them both being good at customer service so they play to their strengths.

- If a customer is getting mad, Sero is the best at diffusing the situation and calming down the customer while Kirishima calms down Bakugou who even if the customer wasn't initially angry at him, he got involved to defend his friend not that they needed defending but he thought this customer just wasn't worth their time. Both Sero and Kirishima overwork themselves a ton, but they do get the most praise from the manager.

- When a kid gets lost in the shop, Mina freaks out, she does no know how to deal with kids. Get this girl some help. Help arrives in the form of Denki but that is not the help she meant because Denki either treats them way younger than they are or way older and either way the kid gets offended and cries so he calls for help. In other words Kirishima. He is, so good with kids. He just has big brother vibes y'know? He helps calm the kid down and either lets them follow behind or leads them by the hand to the cash register where they make service announcements to call for the parent with ease.

- Sero is the one who actually gets the most done out of everyone and even covers tasks that were meant to be done in the others shifts. He's the most laid back about it all and generally just gets things done

• Shouto as a substitute teacher for kids - The kids ask him to sing Let It Go when they realise he has an ice quirk.

- Bless his heart, he doesn't know how to act around kids. They're all so tiny and small. He had no proper childhood he doesn't know what normal kids do. The main teacher says they're learning to recognise different numbers, so just let them fingerprint or use the number-shaped sponges.

- And again, with all the good intentions in his heart, he sees this child who is very proud of the '4' they drew but it's just a complete mess of splotches of horrible paint that someone spilt their drink on. Or was sick on. He can't tell. It's like dark brown, black, chartreuse, what he thinks is snot, a sickly mustard yellow, that might just be mustard, and he studies this piece trying to find where it is for a good full 20 seconds because he wants to praise this kid so he instead goes with a neutral and honest statement, he turns to the child and says "I don't see it," that doesn't mean it's good or bad, so he kinda freaks out when the kid starts crying.

- He calls Midoriya asking what he should do. Midoriya isn't too sure either despite being one of the best with kids.

"Just say you now see where it is?!" "That would be a lie, Midoriya." "U-Uhm okay so, err, help him make a new one?"

- Shouto has never finger painted before but he tries his best and helps the kid make a new one the child likes.

- To make it up to them for before, Shouto gives the kid money for the painting and he hangs it up in Endeavours office and says he got it an auction.

- God help this poor man if a kid hurts themselves by tripping over or getting a papercut, he has a full-on military-grade medkit at the ready trying to calm the kid down. He acts really calm and concise while acknowledging that they're hurting which actually comforts the kid because that way they know it's not okay right now and that they're not ver-reacting or should stop crying but also it'll be okay.

- But inside Shouto did not expect to be filled with that much panic.

• Deku as a bartender

- This boy studied up. He has the drink names down, knows all the ingredients, knows all the techniques, all the methods, colloquial names people might call the drinks, he's got it locked and loaded. But the one thing he didn't prepare for? Actual social interaction.

- People are loud and already drunk, they hiccup and slur their words and he can't understand any of it, the tv is louder than the orders and everything starts going to hell.

- Another bartender who mercifully took pity on him let him take a break in the backroom. After a breather, he goes back but the moment he's behind the bar and given the shakers, he realises he had read everything he needed to do, watched all the videos, but had never actually done it.

- He tries though, he tries with everything he knows and thankfully the man waiting is patient and smiling, aware it's his first time. But he gets nervous being waited on.

- Sometimes he forgets his own strength so he is constantly worried about accidentally breaking a glass or cabinet or surface. Also worried he'll forget an order. Worried he'll mess it up because it's not done like usual.

- He's worried.

- Just pure anxiety.

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rosewater-chlxe · 3 years

Text

matter of time | ashton irwin

✖ Summary: After a reckless night of finally leaving your toxic relationship, you roamed the street searching for some kind of hope. That’s when you stumbled across a car with a certain hazel-eyed stranger and took a chance; throughout a now much warmer moment in time, you learned his name: Ashton.

✖ genre ; fluff, comfort, angst (happy ending)

✖ warnings ; mention of abuse/manipulation

✖ requested - yes | no

a/n: this is heavily inspired by ‘drive’ & matter of time (interlude) on superbloom, and written for comfort <3

masterlist

The sound of your apartment door slamming felt almost relieving, yet somehow still reckoning in your blur of a mind; as every memory started flashing like headlights in the corners of your head, your vision became less and less useful. Those saltwater tears falling from your cluttered eyelashes started hitting the cold pavement below you as you felt a piece of you shatter within each step you took.

You checked the time on your phone, 2am. 12 unread texts, 4 unanswered calls. You wanted to run, but where would you go? You wanted to drop the phone held in your hand and make the screen unreadable. You wanted to take a flight back home, but with what cash, with what luggage?

The words that terrible, monstrous man had spoken echoed in your ears like a broken record; Your now ex-boyfriend.

After all that time of him telling you that you aren’t good enough; that you need to listen to his every single syllable, every dreadful sentence he dare spoke, you finally left. All of that heartache and rage for what? Every night alone, every day stuck in his shadow, only as a silhouette; every time you looked in the mirror to see nothing but shades of violet, yellow and blue on your skin. Every single breath you took was held in, and now your lungs aren’t sure of how to handle all of the fresh air.

You didn’t have your mind set on moving to California, but that night terror of a man made every single decision. You wanted nothing more than to take a breather and sit at your actual home for a while before the move, but it was almost instant. The apartment with him was never a home; barely a living space.

The street you walked upon was empty of people; only houses with their lights off. Quickly you noticed a car behind you, playing music at the loudest volume. The car pulled into the driveway ahead of you; there were two people left in the car, but only one left the front passenger seat. A dark haired man wearing a green hoodie with the word ‘empathy’ written on the front entered the house as the car backed out of the driveway once more.

Though when the car backed out, the driver waited. You cautiously continued walking and as you were about to pass the car, the passenger seat window rolled down all the way. You stopped and looked in to see a stranger with the kindest smile you had ever laid your eyes upon; the man had dark, wavy, medium length hair and hazel eyes. He was dressed in a satin, black button down shirt with black jeans that had rips near his knees.

You were timid and incredibly cautious as you took a quick look around in his car, searching for any warning signs or red flags; you found not a single one. You glanced at the paused song on what was most likely his playlist. Lullaby by The Cure.

Finally, as the man before you speaks, you snap out of your own thoughts.

“I apologize if I seem like some creepy lingerer, but I seen you walking by yourself and it’s 2am,” he spoke, “are you okay?” he questioned with a kind, welcoming tone. You watched his eyes glance at the tear stains covering your cheeks, and you noticed his eyebrows slightly furrow.

“My name is Ashton by the way, and It’d be no problem to take you where you need to go,” he said followed by a small pause, “though if it would make you more comfortable I can call my friend Sierra to help,” he finished.

Your exterior softened as you realized you had no reason to even have the smallest concern about this so-called Ashton, realizing he’s a genuine person just by the few sentences he’s said to you.

“Are you sure? I could just walk by myself, I’m sure you need to get home-” you questioned before he quickly interrupted,

“Positive. I wouldn’t want anyone wandering the streets of California this late, hop in!” he enthusiastically answered, making sure you felt as if you could trust him.

You entered the car, feeling more comfortable than you ever had in the apartment though you were next to someone you had never met before. The aroma in the car was coming from Ashton himself, his cologne so vibrant in scent that in lingered wherever he was; your senses were filled with the smell of dozens of flowers in the sunshine during the summer. The scent was the first thing that had given your soul warmth for what felt like the first time in years.

“Thank you for being so kind, it truly does mean the world to me,” you said to him in a genuine tone with a sigh of relief, “I’m Y/N.”

“What might you be up to walking around here at 2am, Y/N?” he asked as you watched him turn his right turn signal on, glancing over you with a slight smile.

“That’s a very long, dreadful story,” you said with a hint of bitterness and forced laughter, still being sweet as you smiled at him.

He smiled with a bit of sorrow in his eyes, realizing something bad must have happened. He studied your facial expression and body language for any signs to find a light, almost unnoticeable bruise on your wrist as well as your timidly fingers dancing upon one another when he asked; he had a slight frown as you fidgeted.

“I don’t know what happened and I’m sure it’s none of my business, but I’d like you to know that you aren’t alone though it may feel that way. It’s the sappy shit everyone says and I don’t know if you wanna hear it, but it does get better with time. You just gotta give it a chance y’know?” he said to you in now a more calming, comforting tone.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, not remembering what this kindness felt like; it was completely unfamiliar to you, yet it made you feel like you were home.

“Thank you, Ashton. You’re a very lovely human being,” you said to him with a soft smile, “to sum up the entire thing, I have- had been with someone who wasn’t the best, or wasn’t really good at all to me for way longer than I should’ve been. People always underestimate how hard it can be to leave situations like that.”

He let out a soft sigh as he stopped at the red light in front of you; he tapped on the steering wheel as he thought carefully of what to say. He adjusted his bracelet before turning to face you; it was dark, so he decided not to comment on the outline of tears falling from your cheeks.

“I know that what happened in the amount of time you were with him couldn’t have been easy, probably quite difficult -- and though you don’t deserve going through what you did nor should it have happened, painful lessons can be the perfect tool to grow; to proceed to the next better chapter of your life.” He said to you, truly believing what he was saying rather than just telling you things for reassurance.

You could almost feel the liquid gold that flooded through his veins; the flowers that bloomed in his lungs as he took each breath. Those raven curls fell perfectly along his forehead and right above his eyes, creating such a highly-saturated feeling as you lingered in his atmosphere.

“You’re a beautiful person,” you accidentally let out the repeating sentence in your head, “I mean you’re very sweet,” you attempted to fix your slip up through clumsily placed stutters.

Ashton chuckled with a bright smile on his face, and you could feel every sunbeam exuding from his emotions. His hazel eyes were the softest you’d ever seen, yet they had such potential to be utmost intimidating.

“I think you’re admirable as well, Y/N,” he replied with the sweetest of honey in his tone.

As he pulled into his driveway, reality set in once again. He carefully studied your reactions to see any hesitance or uneasiness.

“Remember, if you aren’t comfortable staying at my place, Sierra lives a few streets away and it wouldn’t be a bother at all to take you there,” he warmly reminded you.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, I promise I’m comfortable; you are, right?” You responded with a small smile, awaiting his reply.

“Of course,” he nodded, getting out of the car and opening your door.

When you finally entered the well-lit home, you noticed a variety of things: the instruments, the little vintage musical references scattered along the walls, the open notebook sitting on the coffee table; every little trinket revealing more of his personality. You also finally got a more in-detail look of his features. You noticed his tattoos, and as you closely examined each one you yearned knowing the story behind them; you took note of his laid-back demeanor and the smooth ways in which he carried himself.

“You’re a songwriter?” You questioned, hoping your analysis was correct.

“I am actually, more of a drummer though,” he joked, making you let out a light laugh. “Would you like anything to drink or eat? I can grab some more comfortable clothes for you if you’d like?” he considerately asked, giving you a warm smile.

“I would love that, thank you so much; and a water would be great,” you timidly replied, tapping the ends of your fingertips nervously.

“Of course, is there anything else you need? Do you wanna talk about anything?” he asked in a very sweet, quiet tone as he noticed your anxiety.

“Thank you so much, I’m honestly just really exhausted,” you stated, knowing you were actually quite awake; you just needed to let everything out alone as always.

“I understand darling, there’s a spare bedroom upstairs -- I’ll go get the clothes, just make yourself at home,” he kindly said to you, internally questioning your stability. He noticed every single flinch and facial expression of sorrow; this, let alone, filled him with devastation.

You made your way up the stairs, passing photographs on the wall of him and three other men; one of them being the man you seen get out of his car earlier that night. You faintly heard Ashton open the fridge and grab a water, knowing he’d be coming up with you soon. You stopped your curious gazing and entered the spare bedroom; It was mostly empty with a few light decorations, a nightstand, a dresser, and a bed with pale green, silk sheets. You sat down and patiently awaited his arrival, looking down at your swaying legs.

You heard his light footsteps as he entered the room with a small smile on his face, handing you cozy clothing and a water; he gave you an oversized, black hoodie and grey sweatpants. The clothes smelled of his cologne, which brought you some sort of unexplainable comfort.

“If you need absolutely anything, I’ll be right downstairs, okay? Have a lovely sleep, sweet dreams,” he softly spoke, leaving the room and carefully shutting the door behind him.

As quickly as the door closed, tears began to overflow in your eyes; streams of the coldness you felt in your once known monster’s arms went down your cheeks like rivers. The ache in your chest felt like no other; you felt empty and severely heavy at the same time. The room was silent, but the static in your body became blaringly and deafeningly loud. You wanted to scream so hard that your vocal cords would no longer make a sound, and by the silent sobs you produced it was almost as if you did.

Then it stopped.

The static stopped playing, and you were brought back to the moment you were in rather than the past; you heard faint acoustic guitar strings that sounded like a home you’d never felt. You heard singing, but the lyrics through the walls weren’t as clear as you wanted. You heard the raindrops from outside mixed with Ashton’s honey-drenched voice, and that let alone turned every single tear filled with sorrow into softly spilled tears of rosewater.

You sat up from the now wet pillow, and changed into the clothing he offered you. You carefully opened the bedroom door and sat down on one of the stairs, listening from just the wall keeping the two of you distanced.

He sang,

“From the ground up, don't you burn it down Everybody's got the chance to turn it around Rebuild it like a vase, or a shattered crown Dive into the ocean and you'll never drown Darkness shows up, don't you let it grow The light will shine in, then your heart will know That all of these things That cause us pain inside Will come and go When the roses bloom and the record don't scratch Close your eyes, don't you ever look back Painful lessons are a perfect tool Schools in session and the number one rule It’s all just a matter of time,”

after he finished the last few lines, he set down the guitar and wrote down the last few words he sang in his notebook. At this time, you were now leaning against the doorframe admiring his every thought being expressed through the look in his hazel eyes.

“You’re very talented,” you softly spoke not to startle him; though still, for a second, he had wide eyes as he glanced up at you.

“I thought you were asleep,” he lightly laughed, “I’m sorry if I’ve waken you.”

“Not at all,” you smiled to quickly reassure his concerns, “I’m exhausted, but I don’t think sleep is an option,” you admitted; “Honestly, the most calming thing I’ve heard in years is what I just did.”

You watched as the heat on his face began to match your own; suddenly, an idea came to his head.

“I hope this isn’t crossing a boundary or anything, but if you’d like, you could lay down next to me? I mean, I could continue if you’d want that.” He timidly asked, looking for any hesitance in your demeanor. All he seen was a glimpse of hope in your eyes as you joined him on the sofa.

You laid your head down on the opposite side, almost curling up into a ball. As he started playing the first few notes and singing the opening lyrics, you already felt yourself peacefully drift off into sleep. You felt safe. You felt warm, and secure. The newness of every single little feeling in your heart made it’s way to every corner of your body as you had your last conscious thoughts.

A few minutes after Ashton realized you had fallen asleep, he couldn’t resist the sweet smile spreading across his face. He softly set the guitar down and grabbed the blanket laying on the couch, covering you up with it. He placed a gentle kiss on your head and started walking out of the room, but stopped when he reached the doorframe.

He turned around once more and sighed to himself. He glanced at the staircase then back at you; he shook his head in disbelief of his emotions, and laid down with you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.”

fin.

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arysthaeniru · 3 years

Note

...I hear you’re doing drabble giveaways? :) I would love some nishitani/majima!! I saw you wanted to write a nishitani lives au and i hope you end up doing it because I would love to see how you write them ❤️

Aaaahhhh, thank you for this request <3 I hope you enjoy this little snippet, I really like Nishitani’s dynamic with Majima, because it’s so much about temptation and vices and flagrant hedonism that makes Majima value himself more as a person. Nishitani’s whole shtick is about pleasure and when Majima of Yakuza 0 is convinced he doesn’t deserve that, it makes for an excellent dynamic.

Somehow Nishitani has found Club Sunshine. Majima notices him on one of their busiest days, on the tailend of dealing with a problem customer, who'd had issues with the quality of their champagne. He's cloistered himself in one of the back booths, entertained by Saki-chan.

Majima snaps to attention and rushes over to the booth, even though Saki hasn't made the hand signal for help yet. He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "Out." He says, shortly, and feels a slow curl of rage within him as Nishitani just turns to give Majima a once-over, slow and lingering, smirk spreading over his face.

"Majima-kun, I didn't think ya'd turn down a payin’ customer." Nishitani drawls, with a self-satisfied grin.

"Payin’ customer or not, yer trouble. Out." Majima snaps, stiffly.

Saki turns to look at Majima, anxiously, but she doesn't seem especially perturbed by Nishitani's presence. What is it about his charm where somehow, girls who dislike being taken for granted, are magically alright with Nishitani's presence? The girls at the Grand too, had been surprisingly unfazed by Nishitani breaking Majima's 'Look-Don't-Touch' rules. "Majima-san..." she says, in that tone that means she's worried about him.

"Ya all good here?" Majima asks Saki, gently. For all that she's a strong woman who is used to taking care of herself, Majima wants her to know she can rely on him to defuse anything uncomfortable for her.

"Don't be so paranoid, Majima-kun. We're getting along just fine!" Nishitani squeezes Saki's bicep, in an overly-friendly way, and Majima scowls when Saki just giggles, not even vaguely discomfited.

"Not talking ta you, am I? Shaddup."

"I'm fine, Majima-san." Saki says, with a sunny smile.

Majima grimaces to and turns his gaze on Nishitani. It's a busy night. He really can't insist on running Nishitani away, not if he's going to behave himself and get them money. He's got other girls to take care of. "One step outta line, and I call the police, pronto. Ya won't get ta fight me at all." Majima says, firmly, and turns on his heel to walk away, before he can get a response.

Inbetween getting refills for Yuki and towels for Erranda, Majima hears snippets of their conversation all evening.

"I like my lovers strong, intent. Makes everything more fun, ya know?" "Nothin’ draws the eye more than a girl who's confident in herself." "Gotta love somebody who can take care of 'emselves."

The whole time, Saki just laughs, handles herself with her usual graceful aplomb, steers the conversation in pleasant, easy directions, showing off her prowess as the former star of Club Jupiter, perfectly adept at handling rougher types.

Majima seethes, quietly and tries to not watch them, listen to them. But he can't help it. Whenever he has even a momentary breather, his peripheral senses can't help but turn towards Nishitani. He justifies it to himself as keeping an eye out for trouble, but if he's being really honest with himself, that's not the primary reason.

Majima's always been drawn to strength. It's the one thing that has always shaped his path, shaped his destiny. It had been what had drawn to him to Saejima, like a moth to the flame, in the middle of those Tokyo streets as a youth. It had been what convinced Majima to chain himself to Shimano’s yoke, get the man’s motifs and markings all over his back. It had been what made Majima so comfortable in Fei Hu’s shop, and so familiar with Lee’s rough approach. A mixture of sheer adrenaline, blood-thumping through his entire chest, a shot of courage, fury and wild chaos, and desire, slow and cloying, curling up in the pit of his stomach, making him light-headed and short of breath. Majima’s life has been defined and drawn around strength, power, desire, ambition.

And Nishitani’s powerful. He’d felt the surges of his strength, precision and cleverness throughout that short fight through the Grand’s centre-stage. If Majima had slipped even once, if Majima had been anything less than perfect, propelled by the fury of confusion, he would have died to Nishitani’s blade.

That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.

Especially not when considering Nishitani’s about twenty years past his prime. He’s from the same generation as Shimano, Sagawa, those old fucks who’ve caged him in, trapped him down. With freckled sun-spots smattered over wrinkling skin, and touches of grey to the roots of his hair, and his scarred, calloused hands, Majima shouldn’t be drawn to him in that way. Old, pervy fucker, he should represent everything Majima hates most about the generation of yakuza above him.

But he can’t help it. Nishitani’s presence is like a livewire, electrifying, dangerous, addictive. And Majima couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

When the evening shift draws to a close, Majima leaves Youda and Yuki to be in charge of wiping down the place and saying goodbye to the last of the customers. He dips out for a smoke instead, to try and gain control of his fraying nerves, to pull himself back into a modicum of calm. He can’t lose himself in this.

He’s not yakuza anymore. Just a man desperately trying to stay alive long enough to let Saejima kill him. And a man trying desperately to preserve any sense of goodness, keep that fragile spark of a girl safe inside that cold warehouse... none of him has room for Nishitani’s advances.

And yet...

“You ever consider lettin’ yer hair free, Majima-kun? Just for a moment?” Nishitani drawls, voice dangerously close to Majima’s. They’re outside the club now, and he’s not a paying customer anymore. That makes this interaction dangerous.

“No.” Majima says, puffing out a cool breeze of smoke straight into Nishitani’s face. The fucker doesn’t even flinch, just grins, that lightly mocking smile.

“Not even once? Shame that. Pretty things like you only gets better when they cut loose a little, live free.” Nishitani says, sauntering around to prop himself up over Majima, trapping him into the wall. It’s at once a threat of aggression, and a threat of something else, something more sensible. His hand comes in close, as if to caress Majima’s hair, but he stops just short of doing it, balances it against the wall instead.

Perhaps he senses Majima’s internal tension, perhaps he knows that Majima will deck him the moment Nishitani lays a hand on him. Or maybe it’s something like respect for Majima’s rules. (Majima dismisses that thought immediately, Nishitani wouldn’t know respect if it came up to him and sucked his dick.)

Despite himself, Majima swallows a little, as he takes another deep inhale of the cigarette. “The fuck do you want? I ain’t tellin’ you where Makoto is.”

Nishitani grins. From up close, Majima can smell the alcohol on his breath, whiskey, cigarettes and something else, a little deeper. It’s not exactly a good smell, but it’s a familiar smell, a comfortable smell. Nishitani is the epitome of the yakuza lifestyle that Majima had grown up desiring.

“Don’t worry, Majima-kun. I ain’t here for that today. Got a little proposition for ya, instead.” he says, licking his lips. Majima can’t look away from his mouth, the slight pinkness of his tongue against his surprisingly dark lips, and so he almost misses Nishitani’s next sentence. “Got a job I need ya ter do for me.”

Majima frowns. “The fuck would I do that for?”

“Issa job only you can do” Nishitani grins, and waggles his eyebrows. “Compensate ya handsomely, of course.”

Majima rolls his eyes, but honestly, for cash-money, he’ll do just about anything for anybody, short of prostitution. Anything to get his debt to Shimano and Sagawa square. “What?” he asks, pretending to be bored, pretending none of this interests him.

“There’s this gambling club I run that’s been real trouble, lately. Won’t listen to a damn word I say, and they seem to be squirreling some cash away, some big winnings they managed to poach from a pack of fools. Can’t have that sort of shit on my turf.” Nishitani says, with a casual ease. “I’d send my boys in, but ya see, someone seems ta have done a number on ‘em, and they look about as threatening as a flock of pigeons, all covered in bandages like they are.”

“You could do it yerself.” Majima says, gaze darting down to Nishitani’s feet. Just over the edge of his socks, Majima can see the bandages, and he’s noticed that Nishitani holds himself with a limp. He’s clearly still injured from their fight, when Majima had shoved his fucking knife right inbetween his tendons.

“I could, but ya see, they know my face. They’d gear up for trouble the moment I stepped within a five-foot vicinity. You on the other hand...” Nishitani leans in, that smug grin only getting bigger.

Majima snorts, before he can stop himself. “Ya say that like everybody in this town doesn’t know my face, too.”

“Lord of the Night.” Nishitani agrees, and his voice hums with approval. “But ya see, yer reputation precedes you. Everybody knows ya don’t start fights, ya end them. So if you started a fight at the gambling parlour, not a damn soul would expect it.” There’s a crazed glint to Nishitani’s eyes, reflecting off the neon signs from the bars around them, and Majima shouldn’t be considering this at all, but he is. The thought of going in and smashing heads of people who actually deserve it always gets Majima’s blood simmering. He can’t help himself. He’s a creature nurtured on a diet of violence, and the Hole has changed him. It shaped him in the image of its own cruelty, and Majima had let its madness into his soul, or he would never have lived to see the sunlight again.

Majima wonders what had made Nishitani this way.

“The fuck would I jeopardize my rep for? For you?” asks Majima, dangerously.

“I’ll owe ya one, just the pleasure of seein’ ya go crazy in there.” Nishitani says, leaning inwards, mouth just centimetres from Majima’s ear. “Whatever ya want, name it.”

Majima’s skin is alit with goosebumps, he feels like a leaf in the breeze, one touch would undo him, undo all of Majima’s tightly laced boundaries, would unravel everything that has kept him safe and alive. If Nishitani pressed even an inch closer, Majima would agree to just about anything he asked. And they both know it, it’s the electric spark between them, Nishitani’s complete understanding of how fragile everything about Majima’s existence is.

But Nishitani doesn’t touch him, just lets his breath caress the inner curve of Majima’s ear and pulls back, eyes glinting with maleficent amusement.

He wants Majima to make the step on his own. He wants Majima to come apart at his own behest. Fucking sadist.

“Well. Let me know. Ya know where ta find me.” Nishitani says, slow and languid. “Be seein’ ya, Majima-kun.”

He saunters away without a care in the world, and Majima lets the cigarette drop from his mouth and presses his back against the wall outside Club Sunshine, desperately trying to quell the fire within him that blazes in indignation at letting Nishitani just walk away from him.

#nishitani homare #majima goro #majima #yakuza #rgg #nishimaji #this was fun to write hehehehe

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Note

Guess who's in desperate need of serotonin bb and an ask event is the perfect vessel.

Soooo HCH Connor. He tends to work nonstop. But WHAT IF. He's at work. He's at least most of the way through a shift... and they run out of literal spoons. And even the THOUGHT of the necessary restocking/washing/however they do things takes away his last metaphorical spoon.

How do we cope? Does he try to power through and give up? Does he just sit down behind the counter? Who's taking care of this beautiful mess- Tough-love North? Gentle giant Josh? Sweet baby Simon? Is it to busy to take care of The Boy, so they call in reinforcements????? Do tell

//I smell a ficlet!!!!

Connor had the habit of ignoring the small things until they stacked up too much to be ignored, in the figurative sense most of the time, but in the literal sense on occasion too. Like today for instance, they were short staffed, Simon was with him because North was sick and Josh was taking his exams to start teaching. Echo had classes so she couldn’t come in until the afternoon shift. All of that would have been fine, he’d worked doubles by himself before. The problem was that neither Echo or Ripple did dishes before closing yesterday so they were out of spoons and he had just gotten another breakfast order. Perks of morning shift he supposed. He apologized and gave the customer a to go set of silverware then made his way to the back. He could feel the panic rising in his chest and he didn’t know why, it was just a spoon. “Hey Simon?” He called into the kitchen, “Do you mind working the counter for bit?” “You hate working kitchen Connor why would you-” He stopped when he finally caught a look at Connor, apparently he wasn’t hiding his emotions well, “Yeah I can cover the front of the house. Let me know if you need to head home, and please don’t forget to take your break.” Connor gave a nod as Simon passed him because it was the best he could do, the sharp uneasy feeling had locked his hands to his side and cut off his voice. Social interaction was too much right now, and thankfully the blonde seemed to understand that. Once he had left he shut the service door to the kitchen and opened the order window instead to minimize their interactions. He was glad Simon hadn’t taken it personally.

It would pass, they always did. He just needed to keep busy, you couldn’t panic if you were too busy to think about it. There were no more food orders for now so he made his way to the sink to work on the dishes and get things restocked for the lunch rush and any other breakfast orders they might get in the mean time. He had a system, he washed the dishes first but in a particular order. Mugs were first because they were used the most often, then the plates and bowls, and lastly the silverware. He gave them scrubbing before he put them in the machine, to get the loose stuff off first and left the worst of it to the machine. It was cathartic most days. He was fine for a while, he even found the energy to turn the radio on for a while. He thought he was good, then he got to the silverware. Again, not normally that big of an issue, but today was an off day and the panic attack he had manage to shove into the recesses of his mind decided to come back with a vengeance. He managed to text Simon before he rushed out the back door.

RunawayArkait: Going to combine my fifteen and my lunch I need to take a breather, sorry.

The cafe was mostly quiet so Simon jumped when his phone chirped at him from its place beneath the cash register. He wasn’t usually in the habit of checking his phone at work, but since the place was as good as empty he checked it. He had a message from Connor, which was also unusual since Connor wasn’t in the habit of being on his phone unless he was on his break. Simon made his way back to the kitchen to see if he had missed Connor and found the brunette’s phone on the counter, apparently he had just messaged Simon and then took off. He was going to need help. Most of their coworkers were unavailable. That left his brothers and Hank. He didn’t know what Silas was up to, but Richard had come in earlier which meant he had classes. He wasn’t even sure if Connor wanted help to begin with, he was pretty closed off when it came to these kinds of things. He tapped at his chin and settled for messaging Richard.

SimonSays: Where does Connor go when he’s having a bad time? UnluckyNine: Back to his apartment usually, why? SimonSays: I think he’s having a panic attack but he left here pretty quickly. UnluckyNine: Okay, use his phone to text Hank, send the message Spoons. He’ll know what’s up. UnluckyNine: He’ll be in good hands don’t worry.

Simon wasn’t so sure about using Connor’s phone, it felt a bit like he was butting in, but he wanted to help Connor and this seemed like the best way to do it. He picked up the phone and swiped the lock pattern from memory. It turned out that Hank was the last person Connor had messaged. Simon let out a breath and opened the messages taking care not to read them and typed out two messages to Hank.

Connor: Spoons Connor: This is Simon Hank <3: Is he at the cafe with you? Connor: No. Richard said he might be at his apartment. Connor: I need to get back to work, sorry to message and run Hank <3: You’re good kid, I’ll bring him back once he calms down.

Simon set the phone back down on the counter and headed back to the front of the cafe. There wasn’t anyone waiting to order so he go to work tidying things up just in case someone came in. Connor had all but run to his apartment, it got him a few weird looks but he needed to get out. He needed to talk to Hank. He still had his work apron on and checked the pockets for his phone, it wasn’t there. He checked his pants pockets next and came away with nothing. He used the spare key to get into his apartment and made it as far as the couch. He fell back onto it and let the flood gates open. He hoped crying would be enough, it probably wouldn’t do anything to the guilt he felt for abandoning Simon at work when they were already short staffed, but he could bury that once he was feeling better. He was caught up enough he didn’t hear the door to his apartment open, but he snapped out of it when he felt the couch dip beside him. He didn’t get a chance to stand, he was pulled against a familiar broad chest. He relaxed and let out a wet sigh. Of course someone would have messaged Hank, their friendship wasn’t much of a secret anymore. “Hey Con, let it out. You’re not alone, I’ve got you.” Hearing the familiar rumble of Hank’s voice was soothing. He’d only been planning to call Hank but this was better. He turned his head and pressed his face into Hank’s sternum. He smeared tears an some less pleasant things onto the professor’s shirt, but he could be sorry about that later, “I’m sorry.”

Hank laughed, “Why?” “I’m crying over spoons. Its so dumb.” He admitted, not looking up at Hank. “You ran out of spoons, it happens sometimes. That’s the whole point of that message.” Hank replied rubbing a hand down Connor’s back, “That’s nothing to be sorry for Connor.” “No I mean like actual spoons. We ran out at work.” Connor corrected. Hank was quiet for a long moment, and Connor was relatively sure that he was trying not to laugh. He picked up his head to risk a look and he found Hank looking down at him with his eyes steeped in concern. “I’m sure its more than that. If you would like to talk about it of course.” Hank continued rubbing his back and Connor sighed. “The nursing program is harder than I thought it would be and I’ve had to cut back on my work hours so I don’t fall behind.” Connor started, unable to stop himself now that he had started, “I feel guilty for that because Josh has put in his notice to take his exams and start student teaching and North is sick so we’re already down two people. Then either Echo or Ripple forgot to do dishes before closing last night so we ran out of actual spoons during the morning rush, which caused me to run out of metaphorical spoons. And here we are.” “It sounds like you could use a day to yourse-” “I can’t take one.” Connor cut him off, “That would leave Simon on his own. We are the only two available to work mornings.” Hank sighed, “I have a forty-five minute timer set on my phone, we aren’t talking about work until it goes off okay.” Hank said in a way that left no room for argument, “Take a breather then I’ll take you back to the cafe.” “Okay.” Connor relented. Leave it to Simon to send for the damn cavalry.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

#HBH short #HankCon #CSB short #dbh Hank #dbh Connor #dbh Simon #dbh #dbh fic #Birthday Ask Event!#ask panda #panda has all the answers!

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 72 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Miss Fame and Raja appeared on morning TV, and Miss Fame was visibly irritated with Courtney.

This Chapter: Violet stresses, Sutan orders some dinner, Katya chills, Raven preens, and Courtney’s Day From Hell continues.

***

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

“Hello?!?!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I-” Courtney picked up her bags, prepared to head into the building. She looked at the cab driver, wondering if she should attempt to get a receipt for her expense report or just say fuck it. Jaida was pretty forgiving with petty cash records if the ride was less than fifty dollars.

“Do you know what happened when I got dressed for the investor lunch, Courtney? Thank god Raja was here, she’s the one who spotted it!”

Courtney pushed the door to the cab closed with her hip, trying to follow Miss Fame’s thought process, her heavy purse slung over one shoulder and laptop bag over the other.

“Spotted…?”

“A rip! There was a rip in the seam of the dress! Is that how you wanted me to show up? Looking like an absolute disaster?!”

“I-” Courtney scrambled into the lobby as quickly as she could to avoid the drizzling rain, glancing for a moment at the elevators before deciding that getting cut off wasn’t worth the risk. She opened the door to the stairwell and began trudging up, cursing the heels she’d chosen today and wondering if it would be too awful and unsanitary to just take them off and go barefoot.

“Next time you pick something up, you need to use your brain and your eyes and check the garment! Always check everything! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“These kinds of careless mistakes are unacceptable. You’re not new anymore, you’ve been here for months. Violet isn’t around to protect you, you have to think, think!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“Luckily for you, I had my outfit from the show this morning, so it wasn’t an absolute disaster but if this ever happens again, I won’t be forgiving.”

“I understand, Miss.”

“This meeting better go flawlessly. I simply cannot take more incompetence today!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“That’s all.”

And with that, the phone clicked off. Courtney sighed, sagging against the banister before continuing on her way. Luckily, she hadn’t climbed too many flights, so she could still catch the elevator before she turned entirely into a sweaty, disheveled mess.

***

Violet heard her phone vibrate, and she looked down on the floor, her bag carefully placed under her desk. She abandoned her computer, several tabs with pictures from past Met balls open, and reached for her phone, messages from Sutan ticking in.

SUTAN: Any thoughts on dinner?

SUTAN: I could go for italian

SUTAN: I know a place that has a great fettuccine al salmone that I think you’ll like

Violet read the messages, a smile on her lips. Sutan was probably stuck in traffic or watching a presentation somewhere, her boyfriend often texting her like this when he was bored.

VIOLET: That sounds good

SUTAN: Great! I’ll order. Bottle of red too.

SUTAN: Feeling like dessert? Raja texted that she’s picking up Dominique Ansel for her and Raven and I’m jealous. The Italian place has a fantastic torta tenerina

SUTAN: It’s a chocolate cake if you haven’t had it

SUTAN: It’ll be just like our second date ;-)

Violet felt an instant blush rise in her cheeks, the memory of falling off the couch hitting her like a freight train. Sutan had been so kind about it, the man just laughing when Violet had messed everything up. She knew she was insanely lucky that Sutan was so calm and collected, that he rolled with the punches and took most things with a grain of salt, but she couldn’t help but worry if he was too relaxed.

Violet had meant to push it aside, to stop thinking about it, but Maxwell’s words from yesterday were still playing around in her head, the small comment about her sex life with Sutan starting an avalanche of worries.

Because Maxwell was wrong.

Violet did not, in fact, suck Sutan’s dick. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, wasn’t that she found it gross or unappealing, it had just never… happened.

She didn’t know how she’d bring it up, what she’d say or what she’d do, but she knew that she wanted to talk to Sutan about it, and make sure that everything was okay.

VIOLET: Can’t wait

***

“Hey, Court, how are you?” Jaida asked, entering the conference room, holding up a flash drive with their investor presentation.

“Jaida! Oh thank god, is that the final?” Courtney asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She stood next to Shawn from IT, who was crouched over the projector.

“It is, it is...at least until Miss Fame texts me with another round of helpful suggestions,” Jaida said with a grin, and Courtney closed her eyes briefly.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she warned.

Jaida handed over the flash drive, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Poor thing looked very much on the edge, her little face screwed up anxiously, a crease in her brow where no one her age should have one.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. And I’m gonna stay here with you until it looks perfect.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said, her face softening into a grateful smile. “I know how to handle all the refreshments and stuff, but we don’t usually do these kind of multimedia things. I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You won’t. And anyway, I’ll be right here. I can always tell you to go back a slide.”

“Right...yeah, that’s true.”

“How’s that look?” Shawn asked, and Jaida gave him a thumbs-up.

“Perfecto. Thank you, sir.”

“Alright, great. Court, you need anything else? ‘Cause apparently marketing is having some kind of emergency with their calendars not synching.”

“No, I think I got it,” Courtney said, sounding not at all confident.

“We got it,” Jaida said, sitting down beside her to look at the laptop that controlled the screen. “Why don’t I give you a basic rundown of what I’m gonna say, and then we can even do some rehearsing.”

“Sure!” Courtney said, smiling brightly.

Jaida took her through the whole presentation, then stood up to do a run-through, making sure they worked out a signal for when she was moving to the next slide, and double-checking the investor packets to make sure all the references to page numbers were accurate.

“Alright...I think we’re good. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Courtney said, standing and walking towards the refreshment table, lining all the drinks up in neat pyramids. “You can take a break, I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaida said. “But I could use a little breather before they arrive. I’ll be back in 30.”

“Okay. Um, also…”

Jaida turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Well...it’s just...um, some people were talking about their bonuses, and my last paycheck was just my regular salary. So I just wasn’t sure how that all worked.”

“Oh.” Jaida sighed to herself. Of course Miss Fame hadn’t filled her in. Dammit. “Well, usually we only give end of year bonuses to people who’ve worked for the company for six months or longer.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, sorry.” Courtney said, looking disappointed but not surprised, and Jaida felt awful.

Courtney’s salary was a pittance--barely enough to be off the street in New York. Jaida knew that, and she knew how much of a difference even a few hundred dollars would have made to her. But Miss Fame had insisted that the rules were there for a reason, and it would be a bad precedent to set to overrule them for her own office. It was pure nonsense--all employee bonuses were at the discretion of the department heads and always had been.

Clearly, Miss Fame had simply not wanted to reward her for whatever reason. At the time, Jaida didn’t think it was worth the headache to push back, but looking at her sad little face, Jaida couldn’t help feeling like maybe she should have.

“But hey,” Jaida said, giving a rueful smile, “It gives you someone to look forward to next year, right?”

“Yeah.” Courtney returned her smile, trying her best to recover. “Sorry to bother you about it.”

“It’s no bother. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better answer for you,” Jaida told her, guilt still eating away at her. “I’ll see you at 3, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaida.”

***

“And there we go!” Raven looked up from her phone, Juju standing behind her, a big smile on her face. “What do we think?”

Juju held up a mirror, showing Raven the back of her head. She had gotten a keratin treatment, her thick black locks cascading down her back like a silky waterfall, the ends cut ramrod straight, her December touchups going exactly according to plan.

“It looks great,” Raven smiled, running her fingers through her hair, the strands beyond soft to the touch. She always got her hair done by Juju, Raven’s salon visits an excellent opportunity to chat with her best friend without kids around. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Juju smiled. “I’ll have someone over shortly to fill up your lashes. Can I get you anything?”

“A Pellegrino please.” Raven held up her glass, Juju leaving her to stay in her chair. She didn’t really want the water, a caramel macchiato or a hot cocoa much more weather appropriate, but she had already had her first fitting for Galactica’s closing look, which meant she had to stay true to that size.

Raven looked at herself in her mirror, turning her head side to side, her brows already threaded and perfect. She hadn’t told Sutan, or even Raja, but she had started to get the tiniest botox injections, her day starting off with a visit to the doctor. It was just 5 units here, another 10 there, to make sure her glabellar lines didn’t show up and that her nasalis lines stayed on the side of cute, instead of wrinkly and gross.

Raven pulled some of her hair over her shoulder, twisting her waist to catch the best lighting as she held up her phone, snapping a pic for her Instagram, a grin spreading on her lips at how hot she looked.

***

Courtney flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep them from going numb. Her brain already felt like mush. They were going into hour three of the investor meeting. At first, she’d found it incredibly interesting, how the new fund they were raising would help with their 2015 growth, allowing them to expand into several Asian markets and open up a whole new stream of revenue. She’d taken a few business classes in college, and while math was never her strong suit, the financial charts and projections were fascinating.

However, after several hours of this, coupled with the fact that she’d been working since 6 am, and the fact that nearly everyone else in the entire company had already left to start their winter vacations, Courtney was slowly losing her interest in, not just the meeting, but the fashion industry period.

She glanced out the window. A flurry of snow was swirling past the window--it would probably melt before it reached the ground, but it made her long to be tucked under a blanket with Bianca. She picked up her personal phone to discreetly check the messages.

BIANCA: Still getting out early?

COURTNEY: We’ll see. :’(

BIANCA: LOL, poor baby. I’m heading home now, tell me when you’re done there.

COURTNEY: I will. Can’t wait to see you...counting the seconds...<3

Courtney sighed softly to herself. The drone of voices was starting to sound surreal to her, like she was under water. She checked the time again, wishing that they would wrap things up. By the sound of it, though, no one was in any hurry to leave. Maybe I’ll die here…

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts and she stood up straight, back against the wall.

“Yes Miss?”

The fury in Miss Fame’s eyes told her that she’d missed a cue, and she racked her brain for what it could have been. They were done with the presentation, and she’d laid all the refreshments out, as well as clearing the empty plates and replacing them with clean ones twice already.

Miss Fame glared at her harder, eyes darting to the box near her feet, and she jumped, realizing her mistake. Miss Fame wanted her to hand out the glossy photo books of the history of Galactica that were on standby, just in case. She reached down and pulled a big stack out of the box, then quickly began handing them out.

“If you’ll open your books,” Fame said, going back to the meeting with a charming smile, “You’ll see some photos of our humble beginnings at New York Fashion week, 2002.”

I will definitely die here, Courtney thought, trudging back towards her spot against the wall.

***

Winter break was here, and Katya absolutely loved it. She had slept in, enjoying a slow morning making pancakes in her pajamas, listening to Christmas music and dancing around, since she was completely alone.

Well, not completely, at least not anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, and probably wouldn’t for a few more weeks, the app Trixie had downloaded informing her that she should be able to sense movement from week 20.

Katya took a sip of her hot cocoa, a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She had cleaned up the apartment, making sure to get all of the laundry out of the way so everything was nice and tidy for the upcoming vacation.

She picked Pearl’s bomber jacket back up, the scent of her cigarettes clinging to the fabric. She had noticed that there was a tear while checking it, Pearl often forgetting the most random things in her pockets, so she had taken it upon herself to sew it back together.

She knew she didn't need to, but she liked doing things for her friend, the small project perfect for a relaxing day with nothing important on the agenda.

***

“Raja!” Raven couldn’t keep in the shout of happiness as she finally finally heard the front door open and click shut. She rushed to the hallway, making sure not to trip over her dress in her heels. “You’re home!”

“Hey Princess,” Raja smiled, taking off her coat, specks of snow in her long hair, revealing one of her office suits underneath. “You look perfect.”

“Mmh?” Raven grinned, her fiancée’s eyes sweeping over her body, appreciating the brand new outfit she had put on. “You think?”

“I know,” Raja hung her jacket up, and Raven stepped up, wrapping herself in Raja’s arms, a moment of complete peace washing over her.

Raja was home for the holidays, almost two wonderful weeks ahead of them with no work, minimal obligations and parties except New Year’s, all followed by their annual trip to Aspen.

It was Raven’s favorite time of year, for the simple reason that she had Raja’s undivided attention, and that was why she had picked New Year’s Eve as their wedding date. It was a little stressful that she only had about a year left to plan, but she knew that the night would be perfect, no matter what.

“Did you remember dessert?” Raven looked up at Raja, the fact that she was still taller than her even in heels insanely hot.

“Of course I remembered dessert,” Raja grinned, the Dominique Ansel box on the little hallway table, “I got your favorites.”

“I love you,” Raven smiled, getting up on her toes to plant a kiss on Raja’s lips.

“Are you talking to me or the pastries?”

“You,” Raven rolled her eyes, Raja as always teasing her, “...and the pastries.”

***

“So, what are we in the mood for?” Sutan asked. He sat down on the couch, placing the chocolate cake and the two forks on the table before grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “A Christmas movie?”

He waited for a beat, and then another, no reply coming.

It was normal for Violet to be on the quiet side, common for her to come home from work and need time to unwind and reset before she could be present, his girlfriend not saying much during dinner.

What wasn’t normal was for Violet to ignore him outright, and Sutan couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Violet?” He sat up, looking over at her. She was tapping her fingers against her leg, looking straight ahead, her lip between her teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Does it bother you that I don’t suck dick?”

“What?” Sutan spluttered, nearly choking on air, the question taking him by complete surprise.

“Does it bother you?” Violet twisted her body, her knees knocking against his as she turned towards him.

“Why are you asking?” Sutan knew it wasn’t what he should focus on, but he hadn’t expected Violet to ask that, hadn’t figured that a sex thing was what had twisted her into a knot, though the direct and blunt approach was exactly her.

“Answer my question.”

“I’m very satisfied with our sex life.” Sutan turned the TV off, commercials in the background not what he needed at the moment. “So no. It doesn’t bother me.” He was being completely sincere, the lack of Violet performing oral not something he had thought about except in brief fantasies here and there.

But it was just that, a fantasy.

A tantalizing and sexy fantasy for sure, but when it came down to it, not getting blow jobs was a miniscule price to pay in exchange for Violet, Sutan much more concerned with making sure that his girlfriend was having a good time, and that she was into what they did in bed.

“I simply assumed you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Violet bit her lip, and Sutan moved closer, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

“Maxwell made a comment at work.” Violet pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at Sutan’s chest instead of his face.

“And?” Sutan reached out, gently putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I just figured, I never really…” Violet sighed, tugging at the edge of her skirt, Sutan rubbing his thumb up and down. “Offered, and I hadn’t considered…”

“Violet. Good sex, is sex that makes everyone feel good, and I like, no, I love, making you feel good.” Sutan smirked, watching the prettiest blush bloom on Violet’s cheeks, but this time, she didn’t shy away, didn’t look down, instead, she met his gaze straight on, their eyes locking together.

“I want that too. To make you feel good.”

“Is this your way of offering?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, “To experiment with blow jobs I mean.”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I think I could enjoy it with you.”

“If you want it,” Sutan smiled. “I want it.”

***

As Courtney helped Miss Fame into her coat, she could feel her will to live come surging back, the end of the day so close now that she could taste it. She’d already brought the many gifts from Miss Fame’s friends and associates downstairs to her car and in a remarkable display of generosity, Miss Fame had even handed Courtney one of the bottles of Veuve to take home herself.

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” Courtney exclaimed happily as she settled back down at her desk to take care of her last few tasks of the year.

“Yes. Make sure that those sketches get to Trixie before you leave. Goodnight.”

“Sure thing!” Courtney called after her, waving as she rounded the corner. The sketches. She knew she had the sketches earlier. Where were they?

She searched the mostly empty surface of her desk, stomach lurching when she realized what must have happened. The cab. She left them in the cab. Her sunny smile dissolved, color draining from Courtney’s face as she realized how absolutely fucked she was.

Miss Fame almost never did her own sketches any more. These were rare and precious; Courtney recalled how angry she’d been earlier in the day at simply the thought of a crease in the pages.

How could Courtney have been so utterly careless?

Original sketches from Miss Fame of Galactica floating around a random NYC taxi was a nightmare. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the cab company, and found her head absolutely empty of any details, devoid of anything that could help.

And of course, she didn’t have a receipt, because she’d been in such a rush to get upstairs, which meant no evidence, nothing to go off of.

She frantically searched for the numbers of any local cab companies and began the tedious task of calling them to track down the priceless unmarked envelope.

Nearly two hours later, throat hoarse from crying, she had to finally admit defeat.

Nobody had seen the envelope, and the chance of her getting a call back with good news was looking slimmer and slimmer as the dispatches closed for the day. She picked up her phone, knowing that she’d be seeing a whole bunch of increasingly concerned messages from Bianca.

There was no way she could face her tonight. Not after she’d fucked up so immensely, done something that was sure to make her boss more furious than she’d ever seen her. There was a small chance that Bianca herself wouldn’t be mad, that she might even be sympathetic--but Courtney knew that she absolutely didn’t deserve that.

Just to be certain, she waited until she was on the subway before responding to her messages, texting a simple ‘I can’t make it’ and then adding ‘I’m so sorry’ before shoving the phone back in her bag and riding the rest of the way to the Bronx with her head in her hands, cursing herself over and over.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #raja x raven #courtney act #miss fame #violet chachki #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #raven #jujubee #bianca del rio #katya zamolodchikova #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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suupernovalight · 3 years

Text

Addictive Drug

Ushijima W. x Reader

Masterlist || Previous

20) The Life After It All

(Epilogue)

4 Years Later

“Y/n... do you see him?” Said Ushijima over the radio.

“Yes. I’m going for it” you replied before getting out your hand cuffs and running towards the target.

After 4 years of working for the Japanese Defense Force, you and Ushijima became partners for work. You guys also got together.

During those 4 years you and the crew have been on the lookout for any new crimes. Currently, you and Ushijima were trying to capture a guy who’s been on the radar for about a month now. It was until now that the boss got his location.

As you came out of hiding, you immediately walked behind him and acted like a normal person. That was until you pinned him on the ground while cuffing his wrist.

As you did that, Ushijima came out of hiding and pointed his gun at the fool just in case he did any wrong move.

“You are under arrest by the Japanese Defense Force” you said confidently.

The guy tried to move out of your grasp but you wouldn’t let him. When you fully cuffed the guy, Ushijima dragged him to the car where he would when to drive him to the prison.

“Y/n are you sure you can make it on time?” Ushijima asked while getting into his car.

“Just watch me, I’ll make it on time Toshi” you said waving goodbye.

Ushijima slightly smiled and drove away. When he was gone, you hurried to get on your bike to drive back to your apartment. You along with everyone else at the agency had to get ready for a wonderful ceremony.

As fast as you could, you got out of your work clothes and got into your dress. After getting on your dress and finishing the look up with heels, you ran to your bathroom to do your makeup and hair.

While doing that, Ushijima called you.

“You’re rushing aren’t you” Ushijima chuckled.

“Yes Toshi?” You said on speaker phone while doing your hair.

“Yeah so what” you blushed.

“Nothing nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, I’ll see you later” he said hanging up.

When the call ended, you laughed to yourself and continued doing your finishing touches. The time was slowly running out making you rush even more.

By the time you were out of the apartment door, you only had 15 minutes to get to the ceremony on time. As fast as you could, you got in your Chevrolet Corvette and zoomed off.

(You got a new car after saving up your cash)

As you drove past many cars, you prayed that you would get a speeding ticket. 10 minutes left to go and you were already so far behind. To calm yourself down, you decided to listen to music.

~~~

When you arrived at the church you saw Ushijima waiting for you. Quickly, you parked your car in a space spot and ran to Ushijima.

“There you are” Ushijima smiled kissing your lips.

“Hey sorry, where are the bride and groom?” You asked.

“The bride is getting ready, you should go see her” He suggested.

You nodded and walked into the church with Ushijima following behind you. When you saw the room where the bride was in, you went in and greeted her.

“Asami-chan!” You waved. “Sorry I’m late”

Asami scoffed with a laugh. “You should be sorry Maid Of Honor, I’m glad you’re here though” she smiled.

You checked Asami’s dress to see if there was anything wrong. When there wasn’t anything wrong, you gave her the green light to get ready.

“Girls” the wedding planner said.

Both you, Asami, and a few others looked at the wedding planner.

“The wedding is about to start, please get into place” the planner said leaving.

You gave Asami one last check on her dress then went to go meet with the best man who was Ushijima.

“Are you ready?” Ushijima asked while linking arms with you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be” you smiled.

The chimes of the church indicated that the wedding has started.

Wedding Party

After the whole ceremony, everyone went to where the party would be held at. You as so did everyone else drove to the spot and started the party up.

There were a bunch of flashing lights, drinks, and even a DJ. While pouring yourself a drink for both Ushijima and yourself, Tendō came up to you.

“Hey there maid of honor” he smiled.

“Is that my new name?” You joked.

Tendō laughed then looked at his now wife, Asami. “Y/n... thank you.”

You looked at Tendō with a hint of confusion. “Why thank me?”

“Why wouldn’t I thank you” Tendō said slightly nudging your arm. “You’re the reason why me and Asami got together in the first place.”

You shrugged and looked at Asami. “I wish you both the best” you then walked away. “Go spend time with her, I’ll be with Ushijima”

Tendō put a thumbs up as you walked away. When you walked past the guess, you found your boyfriend patiently waiting for you.

“Hey Toshi, sorry for making you wait awhile” you smiled handing him the drink and sitting down.

“Not at all... let’s drink now” he said waiting for you and to hold your drink.

You nodded and touched each other’s glasses. After that you both drank the drink. As you and Ushijima were drinking like crazy, the bride and groom had to stop you both for the speeches.

~~~

After all the speeches, the weddings games came. As everyone was watching the games happening, you decided to take a little break and take a breather outside.

“Y/n?” You heard Ushijima say. “Are you there?”

“Yeah I’m here” you called out.

Without a second thought, Ushijima quickly jogged up to you, thinking something was wrong.

“Are you ok? You left without a word” Ushijima frowned.

You laughed a bit then looked at Ushijima. “I just needed a breather. I was getting overwhelmed”

Ushijima nodded and rested his head on your shoulder. He then wrapped his arms around your curves and held you close to him.

After staying like that for a bit, you heard the DJ announce the bouquet toss.

“Can I?” You asked Ushijima with lit up eyes.

He nodded and let you go. When you were free, you ran into the party and waited for the toss. When Ushijima walked back, he was met with Tendō.

“I wonder who’s gonna catch it eh Wakatoshi?” Tendō grinned.

Ushijima shrugged and watched as Asami threw the bouquet of flowers into the air. Though when she threw it, it went over the bridesmaids heads. Everyone’s eyes widened thinking nobody is going to be able to catch it.

That all changed when they saw you running after it. Ushijima felt his heart light up when he saw how determined you looked to catch the simple pack of flowers tied together.

When the flowers were still over your head after all that running you did, you dived for it. As you dived, you shut your eyes closed. When you felt something touch your hand, you knew you had caught it.

“Incredible!” The audience said clapping.

With the help of the other bridesmaids, you stood up proudly holding the flowers.

“Looks like you and her are next” Tendō smirked while nudging Ushijima’s arm.

Ushijima slightly blushed and nodded. As you walked back towards Ushijima, you gave him a big hug and showed him the flowers.

“Look what I got Toshi!” You exclaimed.

Ushijima ruffled your hair with a smile. “I can see that... so let’s make that a reality soon”

Asami and Tendō laughed as they saw your face visibly turn into a surprised one. The thing is... he wasn’t wrong because in the next few months...

...he proposed to you.

Taglist:

@toaster-stick @ashydoesdumbstuff

Final Note: I want to thank everyone for keeping up with the story! I plan on making a new story with another Haikyuu boy so keep in tuned if you’re interested

As always, see you next time <3

#anime #fanfic #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#anime aesthetic #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #assassin #wakatoshi #hq #haikyu #animefic

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doomfisthero · 4 years

Text

Dads for Deku: Day 4

Prompt: A Shoulder to Cry On (Kamui Woods)

Setting: Canon-Compliant

“Midoriya, that's enough! Stop!”

Izuku's teeth ground together as the black lightning around his hands flared in response to being forced back. A burst of pain, so intense that it felt cold, surged through his hands, and he let out a watery cry as the Blackwhip dissipated. He fell to his knees, tears staining his face as he clutched his hands together in a vain attempt to drown out his own screaming nerve endings.

Angry red lines webbed across his hands like lightning burns. They would fade before long, but for now agony pulsed hot along them.

As Izuku grit his teeth in pain and anger, Kamui Woods knelt next to him. The Arbor Hero glanced at Izuku's reddened hands with narrowed eyes. “You said you'd be honest about what your Quirk was doing to you, Midoriya,” he said, watching Izuku with stern eyes. “But these burns, you're letting them build up. You kept them from me.”

It was an unpleasantly familiar experience, having Kamui Woods look at him with such reproach. Izuku had hoped to leave that part of the Sludge Villain incident behind him, but no such luck. He felt bad, truly, about causing this much trouble for the Hero after he'd taken a day off from the Lurkers to help instruct Izuku.

(All Might had cashed in a favor, and evidently Kamui Woods had been thrilled to say yes. He probably wasn't so excited now.)

Izuku gritted his teeth and swallowed back as much of his tears as he could. “S-sorry. I just...thought I was close enough to keep going,” he said. He turned his wrists around, checking to make sure that the pain had subsided at least a bit. “I think I'm okay now, though.”

Kamui Woods huffed and rose to his full height. “Like hell we are. We're taking a break.”

Izuku bit his lip as the Hero turned and walked over to the bench at the edge of the field, picking up a thermos and drinking deep from it. That was...probably called for, honestly. Who would enjoy teaching someone who'd lie about their own well-being?

He stood up and followed his instructor for the day, who handed him a water bottle. Izuku twisted it open and drank from it, wincing as his hands stung against the plastic bottle cap.

When Izuku felt better, he noticed Kamui Woods watching him; his eyes were kept neutral and his perpetually masked face was all the more inscrutable. Nothing about Izuku's conduct had slipped by him, it seemed. What little good there was had surely been drowned by all the bad.

“I-I'm sorry,” Izuku stammered. “I just...I wasn't ready to give up yet. I really do think I'm figuring it out. I just need a little more time.”

After a pause, the Arbor Hero sighed beneath his helmet. “This isn't gonna work if you lie to me, kid. You have to tell me how you feel, when you're really hitting a wall. Otherwise, you'll hurt yourself, and I'm positive the school will put that on me.”

Izuku hadn't thought of that. “I'm...I'm sorry,” he repeated, knowing how lame it sounded.

Kamui Woods shook his head and set his thermos back onto the bench. “Look, I know you were excited to learn something from me, but I think we might have to call it here. You've got Eraserhead, right? Maybe he can teach you more.”

Izuku's stomach twisted with horror. “No!” He shouted, catching himself as Kamui Woods winced slightly. “I-I mean, no. I'm sorry! I promise, I can do better! I-I don't want it to end like this, I swear! Please, just give me one more chance, I'm really close. I can do this, I know I can!”

“Do you?” Kamui Woods said. “Nothing personal kid, but this hasn't been the greatest showing I've ever seen. Think maybe you just need more time-”

“I don't have more time!” Izuku yelled. His eyes prickled with tears again as the Arbor Hero stepped back this time. “I'm supposed to know this already! I tried so hard, and it hurt me so much, but I knew how to use my power! I finally, finally got it! I can't...” He shook his head furiously. “I can do this! I HAVE to do this! Please, just give me one more chance! I just need one more chance to figure this all out...!”

He started crying, and forced himself not to look Kamui Woods in the eye. He didn't want to imagine how the Hero who'd agreed to teach him was looking at him now.

Izuku didn't know how long Kamui Woods let him cry, but eventually he saw through blurred vision the Hero kneeling down next to him again. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting another scolding...only to feel a hand on his shoulder that shocked his eyes back open.

“Hey, hey, it's all right,” said Kamui Woods. Izuku chanced a look at his face, and his gaze had softened to something that Izuku hadn't seen from him before, not personally. “It's okay, just let it out for a minute. I'll be here.”

The hand on Izuku's shoulder gripped him a little awkwardly, but Izuku didn't mind as he let himself be wracked with sobs for a few more minutes. Once he felt himself calm down, Izuku rubbed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I...I'm okay now. Sorry you, uh, had to see that.”

Kamui Woods shook him gently. “It's okay, don't worry,” he said. He seemed to think for a moment before speaking next. “Look, All Might told me about what happened with your Quirk recently. How you've found this whole other aspect to it that you never saw coming, and how it's been tough to figure out. I...”

He sighed again. “I'm sorry you've been having a tough time, Midoriya. I know it sucks, having to play a bad hand like that. I should've been a little more empathetic.” His grip on Izuku's shoulder slid into something more comfortable, not as awkward as before. Kamui Woods didn't notice, but Izuku did in a corner of his mind. “But you...when you hit a wall, the trick's not to keep hitting it. You'll just break something doing that. It's okay to step back and take a breather before you get back at it. Does any of this make sense?”

Izuku sniffled. “Yeah, it does. Thank you. I'm sorry I lied to you. I just...”

“...Wanted to figure it out ASAP,” Kamui Woods finished. “I get it. But you've still got time even with a good rest or two. Sometimes that's just what you need.” The Arbor Hero sighed to himself. Maybe he'd been...colored by his biases of Midoriya Izuku. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone in the Sludge Villain incident, and he'd come out of the Sports Festival without a lot of firm supporters after he shattered his own limbs. That was all Kamui Woods had really seen of him for a while.

But he wasn't a bad kid. Just under a lot of pressure, a lot of which he put upon himself. Maybe it drove him to grow, but eventually it'd crush him without the right support. All Might couldn't shut up about how proud he was about the kid – maybe Shinji just needed to have some faith in that, and in Midoriya himself.

Kamui Woods patted Izuku on the shoulder, more naturally than he'd expected, and got the boy's attention. “Look, you can't lie to me anymore. Not if you want this to work. But I promise I'm not going anywhere for a while. Let's take a break and talk about this before we get back at it. I wanna hear more about how you feel it's coming along. That okay?”

Izuku smiled, tentative but genuine. “I'd like that. Thank you, Kamui Woods.”

The Hero chuckled for the first time in a while. Maybe this kid wasn't so bad. He could see him going places once he graduated. If everything went well, who knew – maybe he'd become a sidekick with the Lurkers, or Kamui Woods himself?

For now, they had a lesson to get through. And Shinji had to remember to give the kid an autograph or two; he'd practically begged for it before they got started.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dadsfordeku #day 4 #a shoulder to cry on #fanfiction #dads for deku week #kamui woods #dad woods

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outer-bnks · 3 years

Text

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 9

In which Elle and JJ fight over her budding relationship with Rafe, aka angst.

A/N: The Pogues don’t know that Rafe killed Sheriff Peterkin for the premise of this story so Elle and the others think he’s *innocent*.

This chapter ended up being really long so I split it into 2 parts and the 2nd part should be up in the next few days!

Word count: 1.7k

Arriving at the dump of a house that Barry called home, or as others liked to call it, the coke den, Elle took in a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before letting it out. Hopping out of the car, she stormed up the driveway past the overgrown lawn and random pieces of furniture stewed around the yard.

The door swung on its hinges and Elle entered, Barry rising to his feet as if he was used to this kind of entrance, “Yo, what’re you doing!”.

“Where’s JJ, Barry?”, she demanded, acting much tougher than she felt.

She watched his mouth turn up into a slimy smirk, “Oh here for Maybank. What a lucky guy, coming here to rescue him,”, he paused, dragging his eyes up her body, resting on her chest for a moment before continuing. “He must have your sweet body on demand any time he likes to repay you for all the times you save his ass, huh? Tell me I'm right.”

A chill ran down her back, disgusted by his demeanor. “You’re a pig.” she scoffed, looking around the house before finding the back door. She wasted no time in pushing past him, bumping his shoulder on the way out the door.

Like always, her eyes found him immediately, in the corner of the garden pulling out weeds. His grey shirt billowed out behind him in the wind, his hair held back by his blue hat as his dirt covered hands worked on manoeuvering the weed out of the ground. She made her way over to him, trying to keep her strong attitude in his presence, “Come on Jay, you don't need to be here anymore, let's go”.

His head shot up, recognising her voice before seeing her. Oh god what was she doing here. JJ’s seen the way people act around here, and even worse, how they get treated by Barry. Turning to look at her, he took in her crossed arms, and pursed lips. He always thought she looked adorable when she was trying to act tough but right now, he was too concerned about the fact that she was actually standing in front of him, in the coke den’s yard, with Barry watching her from the deck with narrowed eyes and a creepy grin. He stood to her height, wiping his hands on his soiled shorts and reaching out to her with his hand, “Elle, please leave, you shouldn't be here”.

Brushing off his hand, she let out a short chuckle, “Yeah and neither should you”.

For the first time in too long, JJ’s eyes connected with Elle’s, pleading her to leave. It usually didn’t take much for either of them to give in when looking into each other's eyes, but his cerulean eyes weren’t going to make her surrender this time.

“I’ve payed him back. Get your shit and let’s go.”

JJ did a double take, “You did what?”, he asked, taking a step closer to her, his face heating up, “I don't need you to pay off my debts Elle”, he said, placing emphasis on her name.

Elle rolled her eyes, she shouldn’t really be surprised though, after all, she knew how much he hated her fighting his battles for him.“You really think he's going to let you leave once you've paid him back JJ? I know you like to play dumb but come on, give yourself some credit”.

They held eye contact as her words sunk in. She was right. Of course she was. She was always right. And JJ hated that. He hated how she knew what to say and exactly when to say it, how she could calm him down just with a few words, and rile him up with even less. For pretty much any situation, she was right, unless it was about anything to do with cars or boats or fishing.

Barry broke up staring contest butting in, “Yo JJ, it’s alright, you can leave now. Your girl gave it all back”, holding up the bag of cash in one hand, “and then some”, he added, throwing in a slimy wink.

In a split second JJ was in his face, holding him with two hands by the fabric of his shirt. “Look at her like that ever again and I’ll make sure she’s the last thing you see with those eyes, you piece of shit!”, he spat, shoving Barry away from him. “And stop selling coke to my Dad, he’s reselling it for more than you’re charging”, he added, trying to rile him up. His Dad would never sell his coke, unless it was for a larger amount. But JJ knew the only way to get Barry to stop selling it was if he thought that Luke was profiting off it more than Barry was.

He felt Elle’s presence behind him, turning to her and signalling with a nod to follow him out. They thought they were in the clear as they made their way up the driveway to her car, until they heard him yell out with a teasing tone, “Hey, Rafe told me about your little rendez vous the other night Elle! If I were you, I’d be careful there sweetheart!”.

She flipped him off with both hands, feeling her stomach flip, god Rafe has a big mouth. JJ didn’t seem to react until they had both hopped into her car and began heading out of Barry’s, onto the road back to Figure Eight.

“You’ve been hanging out with Rafe?”, he asked incredulously, a slight tone of accusation slipping through.

She sighed, fed up with their constant back and forth arguing lately, “No, I haven’t”, she replied, hoping to cut this conversation topic short.

“Then what was he was talking about?”, he pressed, eager to know the truth.

Elle’s eyes remained on the roach but she could feel him staring at her side profile. “It’s nothing JJ! I bumped into him the other night and we had a conversation, that’s it”.

He let out a sarcastic chuckle, not believing her blatant lie, “Yeah that’s great Elle, fraternizing with the enemy”.

“He’s not the enemy JJ, he’s a fucked up kid who just lost his sister, one of our best friends might I add”, she responded quickly, the reality of the situation being apparently lost on him.

“Yeah who almost tried to kill us Elle!”, his voice raised, becoming more frustrated with what he was hearing, “Did you forget about that huh? When he had his hands wrapped around Kie’s throat, or when he pushed you into a wall and bruised your entire fucking body? Do you not remember that? Or do you just not care?”.

She tried to remain calm but her voice was rising too, “Of course I fucking remember it JJ!”

“Then why isn’t that enough!”, he exclaimed. “Why isn’t that enough to keep you away from him?!”.

Elle finally turned to look at him before turning her attention back to the road. Leveling out her voice, she calmly responded “Look, I found him drunk on the beach, the night of…”, she paused, unsure of how to address it, “the night of our fight. We had a conversation, I called Topper and he came and got him, nothing happened, end of story”.

Jj nodded his head, looking down at his lap. He wasn’t sure if he fully believed her, or if she was telling the truth or not, but JJ could count on one hand how many times they’d lied to each in the past. Sure they lied all the time to get themselves out of trouble or get some time to hang out away from the other Pogues when they’d missed each other. But it wasn’t something they did. They’d never had a reason to lie to each other, however, JJ couldn't help the niggling thought that maybe, after everything that's happened, and how much they'd been arguing recently, maybe that had changed.

They let silence fill the car. They needed to take a breather after the intensity of that emotional outburst. Elle debated in her head on what to say next, settling on “What do you care anyway”.

Emotions rised again once JJ let out another chuckle, bewildered at her question, “Really, Elle? Are you really asking me that?”.

Elle kept her hands on the wheel, glad that she had something to focus on right now so that she wouldn't have to see his real-time reactions. “Oh I’m sorry Jay, but the last time we talked you made it pretty apparent that you wanted nothing to do with me”, she quick fired back, sarcasm levels at an all time high.

“And yet, here you are”, he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

She tried to contain the burst of anger that shot through her veins after hearing that. Instead deciding to change the topic, “Yeah because I have some information on the police investigation we’re involved in, just thought you might like to know about that”.

“What information?”, he calmly responded, the energy in the car changing drastically from sarcasm to curiosity.

“Shoupe is investigating you and Pope further because he doesn’t believe Kie and I, and he’s pulling up anything you can and will be charged for”.

Looking out the window, he removed his hat, playing with it in his hands, “For fuck’s sake”, he let out a sigh, placing the hat back on, “this isn’t going to end well is it?”.

“Pretty sure you can answer that question by looking at what’s already happened”.

Elle expected him to say something. Anything. To discuss the investigation further, and ask her everything she knew, or ask him what he should do to get out of this mess. She was secretly hoping he might ask her how she’s going, or bring up John B and how much he misses him, or that he can’t believe this has happened.

A ringing sound filled the car as Elle’s pocket vibrated, her phone connected to her cars bluetooth interrupting her train of thought. “Topper Thornton calling” displayed clearly on the screen.

“Topper? Why the fuck is Topper calling you?”.

-----

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody.

Until today.

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions.

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone.

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place.

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop.

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her.

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book.

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it.

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman.

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly.

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day.

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it.

Y/N has never truly been in love.

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies.

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.”

That’s what she said every time.

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye.

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life?

And then he showed up.

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop.

Until one day, she didn’t anymore.

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake.

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever.

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose.

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her.

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading.

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her.

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago.

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound.

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.”

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.”

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say.

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation.

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.”

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him.

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

She grinned at his eagerness.

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve.

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left.

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number.

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store.

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye.

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu.

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor.

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment.

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time.

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?”

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand.

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.”

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things.

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell.

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much.

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.”

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker.

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was.

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life.

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration).

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time.

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that.

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day.

Y/N and Ben got very close.

Insanely close.

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts).

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben.

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben.

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more.

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left.

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben.

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news.

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news.

He was leaving.

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.”

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk.

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?”

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.”

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other.

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose.

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that.

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her.

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving.

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant.

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen.

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks.

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something.

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her.

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do.

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up.

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door.

Ben.

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace.

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain.

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.”

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons.

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-”

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months.

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly.

It felt like they were made to be together.

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle.

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore.

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep.

Slowly, then all at once.

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

Text

Love and Leather /part thirty two/

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: back to our regular scheduled angst!

Warnings: domestic violence, language, Nikki and Vanity back on their bullshit

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @myheadisinvaded, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @nikkisixxsixxsixx, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @marvelismylifffe, @zoenicoles, @pfft-halsey, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe

June ‘86

“That is not how you play UNO!” Tommy shouted in frustration, “Yes it is! Skip you, come back to me, skip you, uno, skip you again and uno out, I win T-bone.” Vanity replied, a giggle in her voice as she watched him try to wrap his head around it.

“Whatever, let’s play again.” Tommy hastily replied, collecting all the cards as he Began to shuffle them.

Tommy rolled his eyes as Nikki and Josie’s fighting had become more prominent. Vanity looked down the walk way, seeing the door was still closed. “Man, She never shuts up.” Tommy exasperated, Vanity quickly nods in agreement, “She makes me look like an angel.”

Vanity noticed Mick who was going back and forth between sipping on a vodka bottle and tuning one of his guitars as she tried to tune out the screaming match in the back.

“We should prank Vince.” Vanity mentioned to Tommy, nodding over to the blonde haired singer as he was trying to bask in the sun that was perfectly hitting the couch, “He’s still reeling over the hair dye in his shampoo incident, he will kill us.” Tommy said laughing as the bedroom door slammed open with an angry Nikki walking out.

“Well maybe if you weren’t slamming needle after needle you could keep your dick up!!” Josie screamed at Nikki as she shoved him from behind.

“Was never an issue for me..” Vanity whispered, making both her and Tommy laugh, “And whats so fucking funny to you?” Josie turned her attention to Vanity as she smacked her hand on the table.

It has only been a week since the altercation. Josie stays out of her way and Vanity does the same. Looks and words haven’t been exchanged for the sake of the band. If Josie comes into the common areas of the tour bus, Vanity climbs either into her bunk or Tommy’s to watch a movie. If Nikki gives all his attention to Vanity, which happens more then any of them would like to admit, Josie goes and finds someone else to entertain her rather it be Vince or some random guy she finds.

“What’s hilarious is that you’re constantly on Nikki’s dick, following him around like a lost puppy.” Josie expressed as an un-amused laugh escaped Vanity’s lips.

“Maybe if you knew what you were doing, he could keep it up....was never an issue with me, huh Sixx?” Vanity teased, sending a wink towards Nikki.

“God, is it that time of the month already?” Vince gave his two cents as Vanity and Josie glared at him, “Shut up!” They both shouted at him. He grumbled to himself as he put the blanket over his head.

“Leave her out of this, it’s between you and me.” Nikki demanded, gripping Josie’s arm so she would look at him, “Only if you knew how to treat a woman. Clearly mommy wasn’t too good at teaching you that. Actually she didn’t teach you anything.” Josie lashed out at Nikki, his face immediately turning into anger.

“She shouldn’t say those things.” Tommy whispered across the table to Vanity, she nodded in agreement. This isn’t gonna end well we’re Vanity’s inner thoughts as she felt her stomach twist into knots.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Nikki warned, stepping into Josie’s face as she smirked back at him. “Tommy, do something.” Vanity said, worried of what was gonna happen if Josie continued. Vanity, from personal experience of course, knew better then to throw the mommy issues in his face. For Christ sake, he left a hole in her wall when she mouthed off to him.

Tommy shook his head, “She already started, he’ll finish it. Don’t worry.” Vanity rolled her eyes, taking a sip of the beer that was in front of her.

“Oh? Sad mommy didn’t want you? Hey, at least daddy-“ Josie wasn’t able to finish as Nikki’s ringed fist connected with her mouth making her fall down to the ground in immediate cries.

“Holy shit!” Everyone collectively yelled, “Nikki! What the fuck!” Vanity shouted, shoving him away from her as she knelt down to check on Josie.

Josie’s eyes were full of fear and tears, flinching when Vanity’s hand came near her face, “You’re okay.” She whispered as Josie cupped her mouth, quickly looking at all the blood that was pooling in the palm of her hand.

“Get this cunt off my bus! Now!!” Nikki yelled, the bus coming to a screeching halt, “Move!” Nikki shouted towards Vanity, pushing her away from Josie as he grabbed her by hair, pulling her up to her feet, “I fucking told you to stop running your god damn mouth!!” Nikki screamed in her face, as tears ran down her cheeks.

Vanity freezes as she watches them, it’s like time stopped and she was back where she was five years ago, standing in the middle of the house she shared with Julian. The look on Nikki’s face was a spitting image of Julian. The way his hand wrapped around her hair, feeling as if they were about to be ripped out. The redness of his face as he screamed at her at the top of his lungs. The genuine terror that plagued Josie’s eyes, that was Vanity five years ago. The blood and the tears dripping down, that was her.

“Ju-Julian stop.” Vanity said, the abrupt words taking everyone off guard. With another shove, Josie was standing outside of the bus. “Nikki...I meant Nikki.” Vanity whispered, not trying to look at him as he approached her, also making her take a step back, “You can get the fuck off my bus too.” Nikki snarled, quickly grabbing Josie’s bags from the room and throwing them at her feet outside.

“He doesn’t mean that, you know that.” Tommy said, grabbing ahold of Vanitys hand as she tried leaving, “I know.” Vanity replied, “I’m just taking a breather.” She reassured him as she stepped outside.

She noticed Josie standing on the side of the road, spitting blood out of her mouth, “Want one?” Vanity held out a cigarette between her fingers, “Sure.” Josie responded, quickly taking it as they smoked together in silence, watching Nikki throw every piece of luggage out of the bus.

“Doll, What are you doing!” Nikki yelled, stepping off the bus as he approached Vanity, “You kicked me off the bus, Nikki.” She reminded him, he groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration, “Yes, I know..I’m sorry, let’s go, we’re gonna be late.” Nikki said, grabbing Vanity's hand, trying to pull her back inside.

“No!” She fought back, pulling her hand away from his grip, “Dammit Vanity, can you ever listen to me once! Let’s go!” Nikki reached for her hand again, she quickly shoved him away.

“Fuck you, don’t touch me.” Vanity muttered making Nikki’s expression soften, “Princess, I am sorry...but we are really going to be late. Please, can we just go?” Nikki spoke sweetly, sticking his hand out of her to grab, “You can’t just leave her here!” Vanity shouted, “Look at where we are! We are in the middle of nowhere! We are miles from the next town!!” Vanity tried to get Nikki to reason with her as they were standing in the middle of the road arguing.

“She signed her own fucking death wish! Let’s go! I’m leaving with or without you!” Nikki yelled at her.

“Alright, bye.” Vanity waved him off, turning her back towards him, “We are leaving!” Nikki shouted, picking Vanity up and throwing her over his shoulder, “Put me down! I’m not going anywhere with a woman beater!!” Vanity shouted, hitting Nikki on the shoulders as they made their way back onto the bus.

“Close the doors! We are fucking going!” Nikki ordered the driver, “No!” Nikki groaned out load, “Vanity! We don’t have time for this!” Nikki was in her ear as she rummaged through her purse and grabbed her wallet.

“I’m so sorry.” She said to Josie, who was a blubbering mess, “It’s-it’s all I have on me.” Vanity said, putting a fat wad of cash into her hands. The doors of the tour bus closed as they started driving again.

“You son of a bitch!” Vanity shouted at Nikki, shoving his chest, “She had it fucking coming!! She wouldn’t stop!! It’s her fault!!” Nikki tried defending his actions.

“Oh so you’re gonna fucking hit me too the next time I mouth off!? Is that so!!” Vanity pestered him, shoving his chest again, “And you just fucking leave her on the side of the road with a mouth full of blood!! God, you’re such a bastard, Nikki.” Vanity continued to scold him, as they stared at one another.

Nikki was tired of the arguing, and he for sure didn’t want to argue anymore with her. He quickly grabbed Vanity’s hand and dragged her along to his bedroom, “No, fuck you, let go of me!” Vanity shouted at him before Nikki slammed the door, locking it as he turned around and leaned against it.

He looked at her from head to toe, watching her chest heave up and down as she was trying to calm herself down. They stood in a comfortable silence as Nikki practically undressed her with his eyes, her taking note in his desire that burned through him with just a simple gaze.

“Oh no, we are not- no, don’t look at me like that.” Vanity murmured, getting an arrogant smirk from Nikki in return, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He retorted, inching his way closer to her.

“I know that look, and you are not touching me.” Nikki smiled, putting his arms out wide in defense, “What look, Princess? I’m not doing anything.”

Vanity quickly put her hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer, “I’m sorry.” Nikki shyly replied taking her hand off of him, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.

“Just because you think kissing me and touching me is gonna make everything better between us, it won’t. So don’t eve-“

Nikki rolled his eyes at her nervous rambling before cupping both sides of her cheeks and kissing her. He felt her hand hands try to push him away, but he wrapped his arms around her body as he guided them to the bed.

Vanity was underneath him in an instant, his lips trailing down to her neck, nipping and sucking at that sweet spot he knows drives her wild, “Nikki...stop.” Vanity forced out, not really knowing if she wanted him to stop or not, but fuck they had a lot to talk about.

“No.” Nikki said, bringing his lips back to hers, “It’s been so long since I’ve touched you.” Vanity let out a small sigh of relief as she felt his hand slide down, his fingers undoing the button and zipper of her jeans.

“See what you do to me.” Nikki moaned, grabbing Vanity’s hand, making her feel how hard he was through the fabric of his pants. “Just let me make you feel good, let me show you how sorry I am.”

“Nikki, get off of me.” Vanity groaned, pushing him off, as she stood up and faced him, “Use real fucking words for once in your life Nikki.” Vanity crossed her arms as she glared at him. He sat back on his knees, hoping that she would give up so he could fuck her already.

“Just let me fuck you and then we can talk, alright.” Nikki said, trying to reach for her hand to pull her back, “No!! Apologize to me for all the bullshit you’ve put me through!” Nikki groaned in frustration as he leaned back onto the bed.

“What do you want me to apologize for? I’ve done nothing to you.” Nikki retorted, sitting back up so he can face her.

“Oh I don’t know! Maybe for your junkie girlfriend almost getting me arrested!” “You broke my bass!!” “Cause she pissed me off!!” Vanity sighed, “Nikki, what do you want from me?”

“I Uh...I...What do you mean?” Nikki stuttered as he looked over at her, “Do you want me?” Vanity questioned, noticing how uncomfortable he became, “I want you naked underneath me.” Nikki replied, a laugh coming from Vanity, “No..Nikki...Do you want me?” She clarified.

Nikki swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. Of course I want you, but you said we wouldn’t be good for each other.

“I just want us to go back to how we were, before Josie and before Ryan. Just you and me. Nikki and Vanity, no strings attached.” Nikki answered, “The boys keep telling me you have feelings for me.” Vanity trailed off, “Its okay if you do...I just, I don’t think I feel the same way.” Vanity let him down easily just in case.

“Vanity, you’re a great girl, a even better fuck, but I don’t have feelings for you, the guys are just fucking around. I mean, of course I love you you’re practically my best friend, but I don’t love you like that.” Nikki explained, even though he knew the little crush he had on her was starting to grow. He tried his best to keep how he felt about her tucked away, but it always came out in some shape or form. Rather it be how he spent months prior to Christmas trying to get the bracelet together just for her, or when he gets extremely jealous that some guy has her attention when they’re out at a bar or club.

“Okay good, because that would’ve been messy.” Vanity says, jokingly wipes sweat from her forehead, “Yeah...messy...” Nikki forces a laugh, “No more girlfriends or boyfriends, at least until I get bored of you.” Vanity teased, placing her hands on his shoulders, gripping the ends of his hair in between her fingertips.

“I apologized, so now can I fuck you?” Nikki asked, cupping her ass as he pulled her closer to him, “No, I need to go teach Tommy how to play Uno.” She smirks, pushing away from him.

“You also need to take a trip to the doctor before I let you touch me...Josie looked dirty.” Vanity teased. Nikki scoffed, “My dick is fine.” Vanity laughed, opening up the door and seeing the boys already looking in their direction.

“That’s how you end up with syphilis again.” She continued to tease him, “As long as you’ll dress up as a slutty nurse and take care of me, I’ll risk it.” Nikki followed her out, and back into the common areas of the tour bus.

“Everything okay in paradise?” Vince joked, Nikki quickly punching him in the chest, “I’m serious, Nik.” Vanity continued on, “Alright, Alright.” Nikki sighed in defeat, sitting down on the couch and picking up a guitar.

“Now, before we were so rudely interrupted.” Vanity said to Tommy, glaring at Nikki who flipped her off in return. She picked up the cards once more, “Let me show you how to play.” Tommy laughed, “Your way of playing is just cheating.” Vanity shook her head, shuffling and dealing out the cards as they began to play again, trying to kill time before they arrived at the next venue.

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nerfherder-writes · 5 years

Text

Note: Hhhhh first post for Fate and more than that I choose my favourite bastard man to do it with. I’ll try do more since I’ve got like a whole list of scenarios I wanna do, including a continuation of this if I feel the need. This is a reader insert and all future oneshots/ficlets will be of the same nature.

Servant: Gilgamesh (Caster) Rating: M Warnings: Dubcon? Yeah dubcon

You don’t get a lot of mages coming into this little cafe. You’re not even sure those with a status higher than your own (in this case, significantly higher) know the place exists. It’s nothing extraordinary, at least according to you it isn’t, and the coffee is decent more often than not. Certainly not extravagant enough for those living the high life.

But the middle-aged man you serve is exactly the last type of person you expect to walk through the doors, and were it not for the look of excitement on his face when he spots an empty table, you’d assume him lost or confused.

You only know he’s a mage when you actually talk to him. He’s clueless as to what each term on the chalkboard means, watches the coffee machine like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, and most important of all he calls satchels of sugar “remarkable”. It’s all the things you used to be - that your parents used to be, before losing face and status all in one blow - and it’s almost jarring wondering just what in the world brought this man here. You still serve him with a smile, still listen politely as he tells you how much his students adore this cafe, still tell him you hope the place lives up to the hype. And for the next half an hour you don’t hear a peep from him; he reads his newspaper, sips his coffee, munches on his cake, and then he’s gone.

A stunning encounter first thing in the morning, but at least you get a reward out of it. As you clean his table and pick up the numerous napkins he’d left stacked by his plate, there’s a sizeable tip - all cash, more than you ever get on a good day - and a napkin wrapped around it, declaring two simple yet powerful words: All yours.

You wish mages would come here more often. You’d be able to splurge on so much more stuff. Maybe even put away some money for a vacation. The Bahamas is apparently a popular place to chill out for a week.

The rest of your day isn’t as shocking - a few regulars come in and mooch off the wifi, some newcomers passing through town decide to go for the least busy cafe they can find. It’s calm. It’s normal. You can almost forget that someone from a whole other world, a world you used to call home, had popped in for a simple coffee. For a while you do forget - it isn’t until you sit down at the end of the day and count your tips that the man’s kind face flashes through your mind again, and suddenly you have to ask yourself if he truly had students frequenting the place. You like to think you’d notice by now if they were.

There are no urgent tasks for the night, no people to meet or plans made around your shift, so like usual you volunteer to lock up. Your manager always seems to appreciate the gesture, being a single father on a time limit for how long he can leave his kids at school, and after the first few weeks you’ve slowly become the only one people can trust to close shop properly. A few others either forgot something or accidentally locked the cleaner out, and one former employee even stole some money. It’s honestly a miracle that everyone thought you’d be more reliable right off the bat after all those mishaps.

It gives you time to wind down from the day at least. Gives you a breather before you get on the bus and join the evening crowd on your way home.

The front lights are off and you’re back in casual clothes as you wait for the cleaner. It’s 6:15, the usual time you begin your wait, and true to routine you browse through your apps for anything new. There’s an email telling you a package you ordered has been shipped, a few notifications that a blog you follow posted pictures during your shift. You don’t even bother to check your bank account to see if you have enough to get take out for dinner - the tip from the mage is more than enough to cover a pizza or something. You deserve a treat.

It’s 6:30 when you look up from your phone again. You’re not sure what prompts you to - a hunch? But you set the phone down on the counter and you take in your surroundings, and suddenly it dawns on you how alone you are. An unshakable rush grips you, fills your gut with a sour sensation. Something feels off, you think as you slowly emerge from behind the counter. Like something’s missing? No, like something’s been added to the scene.

You can’t put your finger on it. But your instincts recall the mage once more, this time with renewed caution.

There’s something - no, someone here that shouldn’t be.

The air to your left ripples and shifts. You’re not sure what to thank - crazed will to live or a crest that’s more convenient than a signifier of status at this point - but it pushes your reflexes into overdrive. One arm raises, fingers pointed at the distortion, and you utter the curse, “Gandr.”

The crimson blast, large and round and full of more power than you’d intended, doesn’t hit the target. The air shifts again, moving impossibly fast to your right, and instead your attack shatters the nearest table and chairs. You barely have time to feel disappointed, let alone strike the other side. One moment you’re upright, eyes to the front of the dark cafe, and the next you’re staring up at the ceiling, bent over the counter backwards as a hand tightly grips your throat.

He looms over you like an omen, red eyes cast aglow with murder. You don’t recognise the clothing he wears - the turban or the open half-cloak, and you can’t place just what in the world the fabric you feel against your skin is. You reach up to pry his hand off your throat, to try and escape before something happens, but his other hand snatches your wrist with just as strong a grip. You can already feel your fingers go numb.

“How detestable,” he growls. You’re taken aback by the venom in his voice - but most of all by how exhausted it sounds. The grip on your throat loosens as he inches impossibly closer, pressing himself up against you. There’s a reluctance in his movements, almost as though part of him refuses to so much as touch you.

You’re nothing if not an opportunist. You still have one free hand, and if he’s as exhausted as he sounds then surely you can resort to fisticuffs. You curl your free hand into a fist, keeping up the struggle with your other in the hopes it leaves his focus on holding you in place, and with a final bout of desperation you swing the best punch you can offer.

Air rushes down your throat, but in exchange your free hand is slammed mercilessly onto the counter. The murder in his eyes intensifies. You cough and splutter, and all the while he seethes. Any minute now, you think, some magical bastard is going to kill you and leave your body for the cleaner to find. Who knows, maybe you’ll be mugged too.

There’s a glow either side of you, a warm sensation wrapping around your hands and wrists and stopping midway along your forearms. You watch as he pulls his hands back, no longer gripping your own. Confusion washes over you; it only intensifies when, upon a tentative pull of your arms, you find yourself rooted to the spot. A quick glance shows runes circling your arms, bathing a golden glow against your skin to match his hair.

“Mongrel who dares call himself a Master,” the man hisses. He repositions himself, no longer pressed against you and instead taking his time airing his frustrations. “To have me stoop to such a level - he won’t live to regret it.”

He sucks in a deep breath - composing himself? - and then he’s looming over you again, hands planted firmly on the counter at either side of your head. The position would feel intimate, if not for the situation you’re in. You tug at the runes again, but still you don’t budge. Whatever he intends to do - whatever he’s been told to do - you’re stuck until he’s done. And you really, truly dread finding out what that is.

But then what he’d said hits you, something clicking in your mind. Master? As in, the title given to mages in the Holy Grail War? You didn’t think those still went on around here, especially when the last documented one in this town was over a century ago. But that’s what he’d said, and it certainly would explain the speed and the clothing, as well as the distortions in the air where he’d been.

One of his hands lightly touches the side of your face. He brushes some hair aside, and in the hopes of stalling you blurt out, “Do you mean the mage from this morning?”

That one question makes his angry expression turn into one of interest. His brows rise, a sly smile replacing his scowl, and for a moment he seems to regard you differently. Almost like you’re worth his time now, like something to investigate. Your heart sinks as his thumb swipes against your cheekbone.

“So the fool didn’t pick a brainless mongrel off the street,” he drawls. “A small boon compared to his slight against me. You should feel honoured, little mage - you’ve been chosen to personally service the King of Heroes himself.”

He leans down, closing the remaining distance between you, and for a moment you don’t register what he does. All you can taste is something sweet, something unfamiliar, and then a feeling of being emptied washes over you. It’s like you’re casting spells over and over without rest, except the mana isn’t pouring from where it should be - you feel it being dragged up your throat, gathered between your teeth. It isn’t until you feel his tongue push past your lips to lap at the sensation that the dots connect. He’s siphoning you. The Master he mentioned is using you to replenish mana rather than doing it himself.

You recall the mage. You recall the tip. You recall the napkin. All yours.

The note hadn’t been for you. It’d been for his Servant.

A burst of rage overcomes you. You don’t consider the consequences as you slam your teeth together hard, digging into the man’s tongue mercilessly and earning stunned, wide eyes staring down at you. He pulls back as you taste blood, but you don’t see a scowl. You see excitement. You see amusement.

“You resist your king?” he says, and you can’t help notice the affection in his tone. Like he’s glad you’re not taking this lying down. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, the barest amounts of blood swept away by the contact.

You spit up at him. Some of the blood left in your mouth lands on his clothing. You take a certain pride in forcing him to compose himself again.

He’s silent for a moment. And then, with an almost sage-like calmness, he says, “So be it.”

With movements so tender, so feather-light and unfamiliar, the King of Heroes skims his fingertips across your face. He tucks stray hairs behind your ears, lingering around your eyes every so often, before finally he removes your sight entirely. His hand is warm as it covers your eyes, the darkness uncomfortable at first. You try to turn away, his grip so light that you know you should’ve been able to, but somehow that warmth traps you beneath him like a weight. So heavy, so powerful. You want so desperately to struggle, to break free despite it all, yet the more you try the more that weight pins you down.

The sweetness is back, but instead of diving right in for a feast the King of Heroes merely skims his lips over your own. Fleeting, at first. A reassurance, testing the waters in any other, far better scenario. He’s warm - so warm - and the heat is steadily spreading through your clothes, seeping into your skin. Whatever chill the night air would threaten, whatever room temperature the room remains in, you feel as though you could overcome them. It’s like you’re being cradled by the sun itself - and when the palm of his hand pulls away ever so slowly from your face, you almost think that’s exactly where you are.

His face is close. You can feel his calm breaths landing on your lips. For all of a minute he just stares, and his eyes bore so deep into you that you forget just why you’d been struggling earlier.

(A small voice in the back of your mind screams. It thrashes about and screeches about the fact that this Servant, this pseudo-familiar of the mage from this morning, is here to suck you dry.)

(A much, much larger part of you hyper focuses on the metaphor. It’s not only the King of Heroes’ heat suffocating you now, but your own.)

Your breath hitches involuntarily. Red eyes narrow just a bit, satisfaction bubbling to the surface. When he shifts, resuming his previous position, your legs turn to jelly with each nudge his own give to part them.

(What if he kills you?)

(Getting railed to death wouldn’t be so bad.)

The glow around your wrists fades, but you don’t dare move them. What could you even do? Where would you even start? The King of Heroes is so clearly leading this dance, and you can’t bring yourself to act until he signals you to.

The King of Heroes lets out a long, slow breath. He closes his eyes for a moment. He exhales even slower. This isn’t like before, when he’d had to compose himself because of your actions - this is something closer to steeling himself. No, urging himself on?

(He’s weaker, the smaller part of you cheers.)

(He’s weaker, the greater part of you panics.)

He’d come here to replenish mana, you remind yourself, and you don’t even give it a second thought when your body pushes itself up. Your arms snake around him - one around his shoulders, another gripping the hair under his turban - and you all but cling to him as you drink in his warmth. Your lips meet his own, hardly as feather-light as your teeth bump into his. More of that warmth floods through you; everything inside you is surging to life, your blood on fire and your heart hammering away faster than you can count. The King of Heroes is stunned, frozen for a moment, and then the warmth engulfs you. His arms circle your waist, pull you closer.

He’s back in control.

The way his lips move on yours, the way he grips you so tightly - it’s intoxicating. The sweetness is ever-present, a taste you can’t figure out and can’t get enough of. You want more - you chase it every time his tongue moves, throat burning for the sensation. More, more, more. What is that taste? Is it the King of Heroes? Is it his power? More. You need more.

One hand drags along your waist. He tugs at your shirt, and when warm fingers brush against your bare skin you let slip a muffled squeak. Your mind is racing, thoughts rapidly transforming into a cyclone of primal emotions. Lower, lower, you find yourself begging; but that hand travels higher, traces along your navel at a torturously slow pace.

Fingertips turn to a full palm. He drags his hand along your skin and maps the outline of your hips. Higher and higher, hiking your shirt up and up. Does he want it off? You try to move, to accommodate his wishes, but he practically grinds his hips down against your own. The moan doesn’t quite slip out - not until the nail of his thumb brushes against your chest, dangerously close to one of your nipples. You’re not normally this sensitive - you don’t think you are, at least? - and it catches you by surprise when you break the dizzying kiss to cry out in joy at the King of Heroes toying with your nimple in tandem with another grind of his hips against yours.

(Some part of you, an impossibly-surviving rationality, panics. What did he do to you earlier? Is this some kind of-- You don’t know, sex magic? You don’t know shit about Servants other than that they’re pseudo-familiars and after a cup that would make a crusader weep tears of joy. Can all of them do this? Oh God, what if another mage in the Grail War finds you? What if another Servant gets sicced on you like this? Are you even going to survive the King of Heroes? What the fuck did this bastard do to you?)

(Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.)

You don’t even notice your grip is wavering on the man. One moment you can feel the strain of your muscles as you cling to him, and the next you’re prone in his arms as he lifts you higher - up onto the counter’s edge, his head dipping to the crook of your neck while he pushes your knees further, further apart. Nothing separates you save for the clothes you both wear, and it becomes very apparent even those won’t remain for long. He inhales deeply against the skin of your throat. His palm continues to glide along your chest, now on a mission as it inches your shirt up in earnest. His tongue drags itself up the crook of your neck, taking a delicate taste of your skin as though he were a connoisseur. It feels so nice, so warm, the way his breath lands on you.

And then it’s gone as quickly as he’d graced you with it. He pulls back - you fight a whimper as cold air hits you all of a sudden - and moves his gaze slowly down your form. The King of Heroes only deigns to meet your gaze once - and you feel the air leave your lungs when he does.

He drops your shirt like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world. The pleasant atmosphere he’d made for you - (more like himself, the rational part of you grumbles) - crumbles away and is replaced by the same disdain he’d greeted you with.

The King of Heroes slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. He’s obviously trying to keep his cool right now. “Shirt. Off,” he commands. When his eyes open again, the predatory edge to them is back. “Before I tear it off myself.”

(Like hell--)

(Oh, hot.)

You don’t move immediately. You’re stuck in two (three) mindsets, wanting so bad for him to dominate again and just manhandle you, while at the same time reluctant to deny his orders in case he abandons you. (You shouldn’t be doing either. You should be running. You should be running.) The internal conflict even gives the King of Heroes pause, a tilt of his head leaving him looking down his nose at you. You’re slowly becoming unworthy of his time - pick one, you scream at yourself, you have to pick which route you’ll take.

He takes a step back. Your stomach lurches - you’ve taken too long, you’ve taken too much time - and all you can do is watch, mouth agape, as he turns his focus elsewhere. The air around you distorts, slowly begins to glow. It’s the same gold from earlier that had held you in place, but now there’s more. So much more. You count a dozen before you remember to breathe again, small ripples of gold that illuminate the King of Heroes like spotlights. He regards them with a scrutinous eye, holds a hand out beneath one. You can only watch as something long and wooden, its head curled in an odd fashion and sporting carvings, pokes out and slowly descends into his palm.

(Holy shit, you’re going to die.)

(It’s fine. You just need to get his favour.)

The King of Heroes lets out a short hum - unimpressed, but not angered. “It should suffice,” he says, mostly to himself. The stave returns to the gold portal, and just as quickly it’s replaced with something bigger. Something deadlier.

(That’s a fucking axe.)

(You can’t think of anything sexy about axes. You’re nowhere near the territory for a lumberjack fantasy.)

And then he turns to you.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction. You’re still stuck under his spell (literally) but your body acts on its own, a final show of self preservation on display despite the big, shiny blade he’s hefting in his hand. You’re not even sure how you managed it, being practically inebriated. One leg curls up, foot wedged between the two of you, and then you’re somehow reinforcing the limb and kicking violently at his toned stomach. He doesn’t move by much, stumbling back just a step - but you send yourself flying over the edge of the counter and far from his reach.

You’re sprawled on the floor and gasping for air. The room is spinning, your lungs are on fire. Your head had unceremoniously come in contact with one of the cafe’s cabinets, a throbbing left behind that makes you flinch whenever you try to move. Everything hurts, like you’ve been forced into a marathon with no rest, and you can barely lift yourself to your knees in an attempt at defending yourself.

(Go back. Go back. Go back--)

You grab at your hair with one hand, hoping to cradle your head and soothe its ache. It has the opposite effect.

“Shit,” you gasp. The pools of gold vanish, and then ever so slowly his footfalls move in your direction.

Shit is right.

The knob of his large, ornate axe blocks the only exit from behind the counter. You can barely see with the room spinning so fast, but still you fire off another gandr in his general direction. It misses - obviously, you berate yourself, what the hell did you expect would happen? - but you’re more surprised that you aren’t immediately met with retaliation.

No, it’s laughter that reaches your ears and makes your head ache more and more. You try to look at the King of Heroes, try to figure out what the fresh hell he’s doing, but he’s moving too fast for you to catch sight of him proper. All you can see is a flurry of red and gold and white approaching you, descending upon you, forcing you into a corner.

Trapped again. Definitely much more vulnerable than last time.

“How amusing,” he drawls, voice so close that you almost feel like he’s in your head, “that you think you still stand a chance. To raise your hand when you know full well who you’re at the mercy of.”

“Get y’er mana elsh’ware,” you slur. God, you hope you’re not concussed. You won’t be able to think of an excuse for it.

The King of Heroes reaches out. You try to flinch back, but all you succeed in doing is making your head hurt even more when it bumps the cabinet behind you. Warm fingers take hold of your chin and hold your head in place. Once again his breath tickles your skin, and his voice is right in your ear.

“For tonight, perhaps,” he all but purrs. One finger taps against your jaw teasingly. “But worry not, mongrel. I won’t be forgetting you any time soon.”

He backs away in an instant. He handles his axe with care, and he leaves you with an almost playful promise lingering in the air.

“Once I’m done disposing of the mage who dare calls himself a Master, of course.”

He vanishes in a burst of gold. You stare, dumbfounded, up at the space he once occupied. It takes more time than you want to admit for his words to sink in.

Shit is right, you think once more.

#ren writes #fate series #gilgamesh #fate grand order #fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 5 years

Text

Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

A/N: Hey babes! @veroinnumera and I still aren’t done with Derek and Juliet. Let us know what you think!

Chapter 28

This wasn’t right. Derek couldn’t let Juliet go out there and piss thousands of dollars into the wind on a woman who has never proven herself - at least not without being really emphatic about where he stood. Juliet was going to be leaving to see her mother soon and she knew she was going to have the check in her wallet. “Hey, babe. Can I talk to you before you leave?”

“Yea, what about?”

Walking up to her, Derek slipped his hand into hers and kissed her forehead. “I need you to know that what I’m about to say I say only out of love for you, but...I don’t think you should give your mother that money. Her track record says she’s not for real and I know that she might be, but what happens if you give her the money and she leaves?”

“Why would she leave?” Juliet asked, knowing in the back of her mind that Derek was right about this. “What? I’m not good enough to stick around for so obviously she’s going to leave? Explain it to me Derek!”

He cradled her face in his hands and wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “It’s not that at all. I know what you’re worth. Everything. Everything and more, but you said yourself that your mother has been in and out of your life constantly. It’s a pattern. And she’s going to do it again.”

Juliet shook her head, pulling away. “People change though! If I’d met you five or ten years ago you would’ve slept with me and snuck out of the house before I woke up.”

Derek took a deep breath, biting back the urge to yell. She was trying to get under his skin, make him feel how she felt. And he couldn’t say it wasn’t working. But he had to let it go, for her sake. “That’s not fair. And yes, people change, but she hasn’t done one substantial thing to prove that she’s one of those people.”

“You know what? Screw you! Screw you and your perfect family! I’m sorry its such a crime that I want what you have. Alana’s no saint but she’s my mother and you more than anyone ought to know how important that is. You’re telling me to turn my back on my blood. I can’t do it, Derek.”

“Juliet-”

“No. Don’t even try. You want me to turn my back on something? Fine, how about you.” She scoffed, tearing streaming down her face. Juliet wanted to take back the words the moment she said them. She didn’t mean it. She could never mean that. But she was just so fucking angry right now and he was the only person it felt safe to be angry with.

This is what love was - remaining there for the one you loved even when they were turning from you in the heat of anger. “You may be turning your back on me, but I won’t turn it on you. I’m not the bad guy here, Juliet.”

“Oh, but my mother is!?” She screamed. The floorboards underneath her feet nearly cracked under the stomping pressure. Her jacket came off the hanger so quickly that the hanger snapped. Pulling it on, she went back to the couch, grabbed her purse and walked toward the door.

Derek wanted to go after her, but for all his profiling skills, he didn’t know what the right thing was to do right now. “Where are you going?” He asked, his eyes glistening with tears. In his gut, he knew she was headed to the slaughterhouse.

“I’m going for a drive!” She yelled. “I can’t see her like this. I need to take a breather. I’ll be back later.” She didn’t want to lose Derek. “Either support me or don’t. But I need to do what I need to do.”

As the door slammed closed, Derek fell back into the couch. She needed to do what she needed to do - even if that meant giving away her life savings to a woman who was going to turn around leave her daughter behind again.

-----

It had been nearly an hour since Juliet had left. Derek called over and over again and left messages, but she wouldn’t pick up. When he was stressed out, he did one of three things; he went to the gym, he took a shower, or he cooked. There was no gym in the house, he’d already taken a shower, so now he was cooking fettuccine alfredo in the middle of the kitchen hoping that his brain would unscramble itself.

When someone started knocking at the door, he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Juliet, I’m sorry, I just-”

The door swung open and there she was - Alana. “What are you doing here?” He asked as flatly and emotionlessly as he could. He didn’t want it coming across that he wanted to spit daggers at her.

“Juliet didn’t show up,” she replied. “I wanted to see where she was.”

“She went to cool off.”

“You had an argument? What about?”

God, he wanted to go off on her. Call her out for all her bullshit, but he couldn’t - not when he loved Juliet. “About you actually,” he said calmly.

Alana’s eyes widened. “Me? I haven’t done anything, what could there be to fight about?”

Despite his restraint, Derek couldn’t hold back the sigh. “If you honestly believe that, then you really do have a problem.”

“I really don’t appreciate your tone.” She spat, stepping into the house.

That was it. He couldn’t hold back. “What’s your real endgame here, huh? I bet if I did some digging I’d find out you aren’t really sick. Or if you are, you have no interested in getting help. So what are you really here for? Do you owe someone money? Is it drugs? What?”

Alana’s cool snapped for a split second before she resumed her composure. “How dare you. You don’t know me. Why is it so hard for you to get through your thick skull that I love my daughter.”

“You don’t.” Derek muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t! I know what loving your daughter looks like, because I adore her. I’m in love with her. And you aren’t. Not the way a mother is supposed to love her child.”

Alana leaned smugly against the wall. “And what’s that supposed to look like? How would you know anything about how a parent loves their child? You have any?”

“No, but I was raised in a household with a single mother who never made my sisters or I feel anything less than fucking perfect,” he spat. This woman was calling herself a mother. She may have bore Juliet, but she wasn’t a mother in any other sense of the word. “My mother was there at every football game I played. She was there at every dance recital my younger sister was in, every basketball game my older sister played in. She worked three jobs to put us all through school. Then she came home at the end of the day and she made sure she helped us all with our homework, fed us dinner, before she ever did anything for herself. Do you know what that’s like? Because from what Juliet has told me about her childhood, you flitted in and out of her life when it was convenient for you. I love Juliet. I’m in love with Juliet. She means the world to me. If you break her heart again I will make you regret the day you walked in that door and came face to face with me.”

That was when Alana changed. The moment she felt threatened everything became about survival and self preservation. Derek could practically feel the room start to freeze over as she spoke. Her tone was calm, measured...but her eyes looked wild. They were the sort of dangerous he saw every day when they finally cornered their unsub. She was trapped and ready to do anything, destroy anyone, to free herself. “And what makes you think she’ll believe a word you say? I’m her mother. You, well you’re nobody. If you make her choose she will choose me. Juliet may not like me, but she’s weak when it comes to family. All she’s ever wanted is that white picket fence life and she’ll pick me to get it. So fine, cards on the table? I’m sick. But I’m not going to spend the time I have left wasting away in a hospital. I’m going to live. I like to smoke and drink and gamble and screw. And that’s what I’ll do, as soon as I have the cash. But if you even try to tell her anything I just said, she won’t believe a word of it.”

A set of keys hit the floor, causing them both to turn around. Juliet was standing in the doorway, staring.

“Honey! You’re home oh good I was worried about you-” Alana froze mid-sentence when she saw the look on her daughter’s face as she came into the house. Juliet marched right up to her mother and paused.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The words barely left Alana’s mouth before Juliet’s hand hit her face.

The slap rang out through the house.

Alana staggered backward holding her face. “Juliet what the hell!?!”

“Leave. Before I do it again.”

Derek scoffed as Alana actually tried to act like she hadn’t just uttered the words she did. “Juliet? I don’t-”

“Shut up! You were going to take advantage of my kindness, my desire for an actual family. You sit here and admit it to my boyfriend and now you’re going to act like fucking June Cleaver? I won’t have it. You’ve done it to me too many times.” The anger radiated through her. She felt like her skin was crawling. Like one of those nightmares where you look down and see bugs coming out of your skin. Every nerve felt raw. “You are sick, but don’t want to give up the drinking and smoking and whoring around so you were going to take my money to do all of that until the day you die? Fuck you, Alana! Get out of my house and don’t ever let me see your face again. You sicken me.”

Admitting defeat was not Alana’s style, so she held her cheek, still burning with the impression of Juliet’s hand and stomped toward the door. “You’re going to regret this. Not having time with your mother before she dies.”

“I have nothing to regret. You are the one that did wrong by me. Do you hear me?!” And with that she slammed the door and fell to the floor in a heap of sobs.

The words had fallen out of her mouth. She had nothing to regret. She didn’t...right?

A pair of arms came around her body, holding her tightly. She wanted to push him away. She hated him for being right, but she needed to feel safe right now, and he provided her that sanctuary.

They didn’t say anything, just sat on the floor for a long while. To anyone else, sitting there she might have looked broken and helpless, but Derek saw a strength he wasn’t even sure he had. The fact of the matter was that he needed her as much as she needed him. Today Juliet was leaning on him, but she had saved him more times than Derek could count.

And that was why they fit together. Their broken pieces matched. It would take time. How much he couldn’t be sure of. But things would be better eventually. And in the meantime they had each other.

@witchythorn @crimeshowtrash @literallyprentissstwin @jazz91121 @tommyhollandd @spencer-puppies-and-stuff @fl0werb0nes18 @stunudo @spencerthepipecleaner @theofficeofsupremegenius @ultrarebelheart @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lukeassmanalvez @mentallydatingspencerreid @nobravery @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars @wonderboygenius @naturallytom @imagines-for-criminal-minds @acespence @sweater-vest-reid @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid @sam-carter-in-training @parker-hopper @spencerwreid @ssahotchner @profiler-in-training @were-skye @trollitis @heyboywonder @ficrecswithcassie @janiedreams88@gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid @tippy06 @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart @ssaunitchief @xxm3xxj @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo

#derek morgan #derek morgan x oc #derek morgan x juliet hunter lewis #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fic #dontshootmespence #veroinnumera #broken homes fix broken hearts

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