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totiredtowrite · 3 years

Text

Wolf In Sheeps Clothing

Warnings - Cursing because angry boy, reader being a cold mf, reader's clothes are described (but kind of vaguely so dw)

Note: I feel like I can hear the gif for some reason :D? Kind of self indulgent so reader is shorter than kyotani. Poor mad dog, always being put in his place by pretty boys. I'll have you know that I consult the wiki everytime I write something for character details by the way. (bragging shamelessly). Reader is also a second year and the student council president because this is fiction and I'm not sure if you have to be a third year hehe

this turned out longer than I thought it would, really popped off with this one

Male Reader

Kyotani Kentarou has a new enemy.

Whether or not you knew he though of you as an enemy didn't matter to him.

Suprisingly, it doesn't happen as often as some might think. His awful attitude and uncooperative nature ensures that he makes more enemies than friends, but most people are too afraid to approach him in order to become one of the two.

His new enemy?

You. (L/n) (y/n), Student Council President.

Kyotani never really though much of you. Not when you campaigned for the spot, (despite being in the second year), and not when you got the position. He's seen you, sure, you made that whole speech when you got the part and you oversaw detention sometimes.

Kyotani, (surprisingly), didn't get detention much. On the one time you oversaw the detention class when he was supposed to be there, he decided not to go.

So, overall, he hardly saw you at all. You were nothing but a passing thought in his mind when he heard people talking about you. He never expected to talk to you, much less consider you his worst enemy.

~~~

It really was a normal day for Kyotani. He woke up, took a shower, ate on his way to school, and slipped into class with his usual "fuck with me and you die" look on.

Practice was cancelled that day as the coach was out sick, so he didn't really have anything to do. Everything was all normal for him, right up until the end of the day. Kyotani was stalking through the hallways, the other second years moving out of his way and giving hushed whispers to their friends as they got ready to leave.

He was used to that, and even liked the feeling it gave him, knowing that these people were actually afraid of him. He was close to his locker when it happened.

He ran right into you, almost knocking you back. He glowered down at you, an angry spark in his eye that would have any other student running far away. You however, just stepped back to be clear of his general bubble, and looked up at him with a frown.

Truth be told, he had never really seen you up close. True he'd overheard some of his classmates talking about how 'intimidating' and 'handsome' you were, but Kentarou didn't expect to actually feel it coming off of you. He didn't expect to point out how attractive you were right off the bat.

The hard glisten in your eye faded as you scanned his face. You know this guy. Your expression changed from 'stone cold dictator' to 'unbothered student council president.'

Somehow feeling the tension, most of the students cleared out before either of you said a word.

"Kyotani Kentarou," you said, "Number 16 on our schools volleyball team. Infamous for your out of control aggression and prowess in your sport." You smirked at him quickly, straightening your blazer and standing up straight.

"The hell," he lifted his head to look down his nose at you, "why do you know me?"

You shrug. "I keep tabs on all the students I think are troublesome. Or interesting." He watched as you casually turned to your bag and pulled out a large binder. "You're on the first page, marked in red." you had a somewhat mocking tone in your voice, that coy smirk returning.

Kyotani growled, the noise sounding surprisingly like an animal. You were much more cocky up close. Cocky and aggravating. He moved closer to you so that your chests were almost touching while you put the binder away, and looked straight down at your face. "I can be much more troublesome," he said lowly.

You barked out a laugh. "Careful there Mad Dog." You advanced, causing Kyotani to step back. "Or I might just think you're threatening me," you continued to move forward. Kyotani took more steps back. The only way he could describe the feeling was like he was being herded like a sheep.

Another animalistic growl left his throat when his back hit the lockers. By now everyone had left, leaving just the two of you. "You aren't leaving a very good first impression on your president," you say dangerously, almost mocking your own title.

"Why do I need to leave a good impression on you," he muttered out. You didn't say anything and instead lifted your arm above his shoulder to slam it by his head. He recognized this feeling. Yet somehow, it felt all different.

Not once had the rumors spoken about the affect you had on people. You scanned his face again, those intimidating (e/c) eyes holding him steady in place. His breath hitched in his throat softly when you pulled your hand back to straighten his tie. "You don't," you said referring to his earlier question, eyes focused on his tie. "And you haven't."

You pulled away from him and stepped back, patting him on the shoulder before turning on your heel to head towards the doors. You turned your head just as you were about to leave, the blue grey light from the cloudy sky making you seem more threatening. "Take care, Mad Dog." You left the school building, leaving Kentarou breathing heavily and on guard at the lockers.

~~~

He really didn't expect that from you.

He had had a similar feeling, when Yahaba threw him into a wall and scolded him during the spring preliminary game against Karasuno. Similar, but not quite the same. It felt like you had him trapped. He still had your words replaying on repeat in his mind.

Those rumors he heard about you didn't do you any justice. He never heard anything about how easily you could make people feel... things. For once, he felt like he was the one being hunted. And oh boy did he not like that. All those times he'd seen you, he thought you looked like a regular goody two shoes who would report even the smallest wrongdoing to the teachers. He didn't expect a calculated, threatening boy who had a binder of 'troublemakers' and a heavy presence.

He didn't sleep more than 2 hours that night.

Maybe it was your eyes that were etched into his mind. Maybe it was your smooth voice, that look that made it seem like there was so much more under your surface.

So naturally he came to the conclusion that you were his rival.

He managed to avoid you all till the end of the week, Sunday rolling around like a saving grace. He didn't see you once for the rest of the week, but it still felt like you were watching him with those calculated eyes of yours. His shoulder still felt all weird and tingly from where you had touched him.

The weekend felt like an asylum to him, a feeling of safety and control returning to him when his older sister sent him out to go pick up some things from the store.

Kyotani had decided to cut through the park on his way back, but now he was quickly regretting his decision. It's not like he was afraid of you, he just thought that avoiding you would be the best option.

The last place he expected you to be was sitting in the park, staring out at the little man-made pond with a few birds at your feet. You had an overcoat on to compensate for the slightly chilly weather, a sweater visible underneath it. Your shoes were tapping the ground rhythmically.

You looked much less intimidating out of uniform. You had a neutral, content look on your face, cheek squished against your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. It was almost cute, he thought, if that was the right word for it.

"Are you just going to stand there forever," you turned your face towards him and regarded him with lidded eyes. "You can sit down you know."

He jumped, standing still for a second before slowly moving towards you. His guard up like a wall as memories of your last interaction replayed through his mind. His breath quickened ever so slightly, and his ears turned pink.

He slid into place on the bench next to you. You turned towards him again and smiled. He went bright red.

It was an actual smile. Not that cocky smirk, but a soft clad cute smile. You focused your attention back on to the pond.

"You live around here," Kyotani inquired gruffly.

You nodded. "I don't go out much. Usually cooped up in my room working on god knows what." You leaned back, draping your arms gracefully across the back of the bench. "Sorry about our little encounter, by the way. I must have come off way scary, right?" You gave him that soft smile again.

He looked away and hid his cheeks with his hand. "Like I'd be afraid of you," he muttered.

You hummed softly. A thought struck him. He regained his composure before speaking again. "You must have known that I live around here, right?"

You nodded wordlessly. "It was in your file."

Kyotani decided not to comment on how creepy that was, and instead muttered out a small "oh."

Neither of you said a word for a few moments.

"We really got off on the wrong foot, huh?" You turned your whole body towards him, watching his movements like a cat.

He just grunted.

You laughed a little bit, and extended your hand. "Why don't we start over. I'm (l/n) (y/n)."

Kyotani eyed your hand suspiciously before taking it. The tingly feeling returned, but this time it felt stronger as both your hands were bare. Your slightly smaller hand gripped his firmly, the slight size difference making Kyotani blush a bit.

You really weren't what he thought, were you? Even so, you were still his enemy. His cute, scary, calculated, calm enemy.

He doesn't even know what hit him.

#m!reader #hq x male reader #anime x male reader #male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x male reader #kyotani kentaro x male reader

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90stvshowgoth · 3 years

Text

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dubcon #murder #mha #my hero academia #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki

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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years

Text

“Paper Scraps”

Post-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...ish?, Reconciliation, Discussion of Suicidal Ideation, Ghosts, Implied Sangyu, Mo Xuanyu Gets To Be Mourned, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang Are Going Through It

Series Link on Ao3

__________

"To what do I owe the surprise visit?'' Nie Huaisang asks, and his voice is so devoid of emotion that Wei Wuxian has to bite back a shudder, suddenly very much aware that he is treading in completely new and potentially dangerous territory.

Nie-xiong is as dead as his beloved elder brother, and the Headshaker was nothing more than a mask. All that's left now is Nie-zongzhu, whom he knows nothing about and threatened the last time they actually spoke to each other in person.

Still, he sucks up his nerve and plasters on one of his usual careless smiles. "We need to talk, you and I. Just you and I."

"Wei Ying-"

He holds up a hand to cut off Lan Zhan's protest. "How about it?"

"And what, exactly, do you think there is for us to discuss, Wei-xiansheng? Have I not been behaving well enough for your liking?"

Ouch.

"Okay, I deserved that," Wei Wuxian says as he waves off his defensive husband and friend a second time, suddenly wishing he'd just snuck out and come alone.

Then again, that probably wouldn't have gone well either, judging by the wary looks he keeps getting from the handful of Nie disciples who linger defensively near their sect leader.

Okay... okay. No more trying to joke around. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, then straightens his back. "I'm here about Mo Xuanyu."

Nie Huaisang’s face betrays nothing, but the fan in his hand snaps shut with enough force that it's audible throughout the room. “Everyone, please escort our other two guests to the main gardens so that we may speak privately.”

“Zongzhu-” one massive bear of a man starts to protest.

At the same time Lan Zhan moves in front of Wei Wuxian to growl “We are not going anywhere,” and the tension in the room ratchets sharply to hair-on-end levels as the situation threatens to turn into a standoff.

Wei Wuxian pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a building headache, then reaches out in an attempt to tug his husband back. “Lan Zhan. I’m the one who requested a one-on-one meeting, remember? Literally just now?”

“He cannot be truste-”

“Wei-gongzi, he might-”

“Enough,” Nie Huaisang snaps, the unexpected whip-crack of his voice making them all, a few disciples included, jump. “Let me remind all three of you that you came here and none of you are required to stay. In fact, today would be much improved if you didn’t.”

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian hisses.

Lan Zhan doesn’t budge, hand still tight on the hilt of Bichen. “If you harm Wei Ying-”

“Yes, yes, you and the Ghost General will cut me open and hang me with my own entrails just to start with,” Nie Huaisang replies irritably, giving a dismissive wave of the closed fan. “I’m well aware.”

Judging by the startled and utterly appalled looks that cross Lan Zhan and Wen Ning’s faces, that had decidedly not been on the list of options of what they might potentially do. But the descriptive suggestion does work to knock them off guard, and Wei Wuxian bites his tongue hard to keep his expression neutral as the two of them are herded out without any more fuss after Nie Huaisang makes a short gesture to his disciples. “You did that on purpose.”

Nie Huaisang turns without responding to the jibe at all and walks off towards another door.

Ouch again.

He trots after the other man and falls into step beside him as they enter a hallway that’s clearly not for public use. Part of him wants to ask where they’re going, if just to break the uncomfortable silence, but he keeps his mouth shut.

They finally stop at a door that, when Nie Huaisang slides it open, leads to a tiny garden so deep in the sect's keep that the back wall of it is cut into the mountain itself.

And in that little carved out cave, shielded from wind and rain and snow, sits a funeral tablet on a table shrine.

Wei Wuxian involuntarily sucks a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of it, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Guilt wells up hot and stinging and bitter in his stomach, then higher into his throat. Dizzy, he sways on his feet and is only vaguely aware of the hands that catch him.

Once his resurrection had been revealed, everyone simply accepted him as “Wei Wuxian”, not “Wei-Wuxian-In-Mo-Xuanyu’s-Body”, seemingly having just... forgotten that the face he has now once belonged to someone else. He had grown so settled into this body that until the dreams had begun, he had barely given Mo Xuanyu a second thought.

But right at this moment, staring at the name carved into that tablet, held up by the one person left who had remembered- had loved the original owner of this body enough to memorialize him, he has never felt more like an invader in it.

His vision, gone fuzzy from the sickening torrent of emotion, slowly begins to come back into focus and, for just a moment, he is staring through Mo Xuanyu’s eyes into the worried expression of Nie-xiong before the lingering memory clears to the more neutral face of Nie-zongzhu.

He is on the ground, his head in the man’s lap, and the sudden urge to cry hits him hard. “Do you hate me?” he asks without meaning to, voice coming out plaintive and half-strangled by his effort to hold back the tears.

“You were the one who decided there was nothing left between us worth salvaging.”

“I did. And it was stupid. But that’s not what I mean, and you know it. Do you hate me for having this face?”

There is a pause, then a quiet sigh. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t you, it would be someone else. Or something else. Yu-er was…”

Nie Huaisang turns his head away, expression softening into a complicated mix sadness and pain, and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking that while ‘his’ Nie-xiong might be dead, Mo Xuanyu’s Nie-xiong might still exist somewhere deep under the protective layers of Nie-zongzhu.

He swallows hard, then makes himself sit up and looks again at the tablet and its small offerings.

“Determined,” he says quietly, finishing the sentence. A tiny wet laugh bubbles out of his throat. “I thought… I really did believe that you had forced him into it,” he continues, and in the edge of his vision, he sees Nie Huaisang flinch at the accusation. “But no. No. He... really was determined to see it out to the end.”

“How do you-”

“Ah.” He scratches his cheek, then scoots to face the other man. “That’s actually the reason I needed to talk to you. I’ve been seeing- fuck, dreaming his memories, I guess… though they were more like nightmares, considering what was in them-”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang says, holding up a hand. “When did this start?”

“Mmh. Just a little over ten months ago, I think? Or maybe closer to eleven. The first one was of your visit right after his mother died.”

Nie Huaisang goes slightly pale at that, though whether it’s from the admission of the length of time or the contents of the memory, Wei Wuxian can’t tell.

He gets an answer when Nie Huaisang gets up and rushes to the table, returning with something carefully cradled in his hands.

It’s a spirit pouch.

His hands are shaking as he holds them out to accept the tiny burden, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s gaping like a fish. “Huaisang…” he chokes out when he finally manages to find his voice again, but that’s as far as he gets.

“I… have studied a lot of ways of finding and contacting the dead,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian nods along numbly because that makes a ridiculous amount of sense, given the circumstances. “I know what the ritual notes said, but seeing that there was still something left of Da-ge after everything that had been done to him…”

He reaches out and touches the pouch and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking of a gentle hand ruffling his (but not his) hair.

“I’m just sorry it took me two years to get up the nerve to go looking.”

But you went, Wei Wuxian thinks. You went.

He’d never even considered it. It had never crossed his mind at all.

“Eleven months ago, right?” he asks, voice still a little squeaky.

“Mm-hmm. I should have written to you about this long before now, but it seemed like every time I’d prepared myself to send the letter, something would happen that would remind me that… well.”

That we’re not friends anymore.

That you want nothing to do with me.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and rests his hands in his lap, still holding the pouch as if it’s made of porcelain instead of cloth. “I probably wouldn’t have read it,” he confesses quietly. “Or I would have, but I wouldn’t have believed you. I would have thought it was a ruse, a setup-” A tiny, wounded laugh escapes his mouth and he tilts his head back to stare up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why I started having the dreams. His way of telling me I’m an idiot.”

“A little drastic on his part if it was.”

“Can’t say it wasn’t necessary.” The pouch gives a jangling, discordant little hum when he pets it, the fracturing of the soul within vastly different from what he’d felt from Xiao Xingchen. The pieces feel smaller and fewer, yet heavier. “Oh,” he murmurs when he realizes why.

“Oh?”

“The array was designed to consume the resentment of the caster based on negative memories of the person or persons they wanted to curse. That’s why the memories of you and the flashes of his mother were so vivid when the rest of them weren’t. That’s why you were able to find these pieces. He really did see you two as the only bright spots in his life, so those memories were spared.”

Nie Huaisang makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, and when Wei Wuxian turns his head, the other man is looking away in a clear attempt to hide his expression. “He was wrong.”

“A year ago, I would have agreed,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “After everything he showed me, though… I don’t think he was. I get it.”

He takes a deep breath. He has never talked about this, not with Lan Zhan, not with Wen Ning, and certainly not with Jiang Cheng, even if they are taking tentative baby steps towards being less awkward around each other. He’s not sure he should be talking about it with Nie Huaisang either, but-

“I know what it’s like, just wanting everything to end. Deciding the whole world can go to hell. Maybe I didn’t intend for the backlash from breaking the seal to kill me, but I sure didn’t fucking care what it would do to me one way or another. Nothing and nobody could have saved me by that point. You couldn’t have saved him even if you’d dragged him home with you like Lan Zhan wanted to do to me.”

“Wei Wuxian-”

He ignores the little flutter in his chest that they’ve at least moved back to an address that feels less precarious than the icy ‘Wei-xiansheng’. “Let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So... So... Ah, fuck,” he mutters, gently shifting the pouch so he can scratch the back of his neck, trying to catch the lost trail of thought. “You know… I never questioned the clothing I woke up in when I was resurrected. As brutal and nasty as the Mo family were and as disgusting as that little shack was, it should have come off as weird that I was wearing such nice robes.”

There is a quiet sniffle, and Wei Wuxian pretends not to see Nie Huaisang wipe wet eyes with the edge of a sleeve as he continues talking. “He appreciated those. Appreciated that you tried to take care of him.”

He raises the pouch to eye level, and it gives another little crackly hum. “And clearly he still appreciates your efforts, considering his method of dragging me here to make me apologize for thinking the worst of your relationship. So, I’m sorry for that.”

Nie Huaisang gives a watery little chuckle and swipes at his eyes again. “Accepted. Is he… Is he alright? I only know how to contact souls, I don’t know anything about tending to them.”

“Honestly… I’m not sure what can be done,” Wei Wuxian admits as he begins another examination. “There’s really so little of him left, I don’t know what will happen if a purification ritual is attempted. He seems to be more stable as he is than Xiao Xingchen was, but there’s no guarantee he’ll stay like that. Still, I owe it to him to find some way to help him out, so I’ll do what I can.”

“If it would be easier for you to take him back to the Cloud Recesses for study, then… then you should,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian is a little bit impressed that he was able to make the offer despite how much it must have hurt.

“I think he’d be much happier staying here,” he says, then tentatively adds, “But that would mean visits, plural, and while I’m definitely going to have a very long talk with them about all this, I doubt I’ll be able to come without either Lan Zhan or Wen Ning… probably both at first.”

Nie Huaisang rubs his temples with his fingertips, his expression cycling through a complicated series of emotions too quickly for Wei Wuxian to follow, then he sighs. “We’ll figure something out,” he says as he reaches out and takes back the pouch.

Wei Wuxian can’t help smiling at the tender way he cradles it against his chest as he gets up to approach the funeral tablet and put it back in place. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #not tagging the cameos #sangyu #fanfic

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steves-on-a-plane · 2 years

Text

A Sister for BB-8

Words: 1148 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral!Reader Summary: Reader is Poe Dameron’s significant other with a pension for scheming. This time the Commander has come upon his partner surrounded by unidentifiable parts and bright buckets of paint. One thing is for sure, Reader always keeps him on his toes.

“What are you doing, Captain?” You looked over your shoulder to see the newly minted Commander Poe Dameron walking towards you. You looked away from him to focus on the on your current project.

Poe took in the scene he’d walked upon. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a semi-circle of open paint jars. They were colors the resistance, and probably most of the galaxy, hadn’t seen in years. One jar of pale pink, a brilliant magenta, a bright green and a dark grassy tone were each sitting with a brush balanced precariously atop them. A smaller container of black was held in one of your hands its companion brush hanging lazily out of your mouth. Littering the floor along with your painting supplies were several tools. This included a sonic screwdriver that he remembered lending to Rey.

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” Poe sighed.

“WhatdoesitlooklikeImdoing?” You questioned with the paintbrush still in your mouth. He could write you up for insubordination. You supposed being the highest-ranking being at the outpost gave him that right. He’d even gone as far as threatening to do it once or twice since becoming general, But Poe never stayed mad at you. At least not usually.

“Come again?” He asked, making a great show of leaning in to hear you. Rolling your eyes, you took the paint brush out of your mouth.

“I said What does it look like I’m doing?” You gestured at the heap of scraps in front of you. Poe could tell you were building something, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was meant to be.

“Making a mess on the only freighter ship I have access to on world.” He said, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead.

“I cleared it with Rey beforehand. She said I can use the Falcon for as long as I need.” You explained. “I wouldn’t just take over the lounge area of her ship without asking.”

“No one asked me if it was okay!” Poe argued. “What if I needed Rey and Chewy to take the Falcon to get supplies?”

“Do you need Rey and Chewy to get supplies?”It seemed he wasn’t going to be going away any time soon, so you put down the pot of paint in your hand and your brush on top of it.

“No, but…”

Poe, she’s a Pre-Empire freighter.” You interrupted him. “The Falcon takes so long to get started up I would have plenty of time to put my supplies away before Rey and Chewy needed to take off.”

“What are you building anyway?” He scrutinized the pile of parts, tools and paint.

“I’m glad you asked! I’m building a friend for Baby.” Baby was your nickname for Poe’s personal atromech. It has started when you told him he looked after the droid as if he were his own child.

“BB-8 doesn’t need a friend. He has me.” Poe disagreed.

“Okay, then I’m building a friend for me.” You shrugged.

“All of this, is going to turn into a droid?” He gestured at the all-around chaos you’d left in your wake.

“Well, she’s going to be small. Have you ever seen a BD droid?” You began sealing up your paints and trying to clean your work area. It was getting close to dinner time.

“A BD? How in the world did you find a BD droid on this planet?” He wanted to know.

“Well, I didn’t exactly find it here…but I didn’t spend any of our credits either.” You rushed to assure him. “See I told Rey I wanted a droid of my own and she asked Chewbacca how one goes about getting a droid on this planet and he mentioned the Jawas and…”

“Jawas?!” Poe’s eyes widened and his brows shot towards the ceiling.

“Let me finish!” You hissed impatiently. “So Chewy remembered that he and Han had a whole hanger of unused parts at Maz’s place. He sent her a holo and she was able to ship a few crates of stuff over. Rey translated to the Jawas for us and got me all the parts I needed. All I have to do is help her and Chewy re-run the hydraulic fuel line for the lifts. I get some workspace and a droid, the Falcon gets updated hydraulics.”

“Uh-huh, and did the Jawas have five buckets of paint available too?” His face had rearranged from incredulous to amused.

“Okay, that I did have to order with credits, but I promise every cent of it was my own. I wanted her to stand out.” You explained. “I’m painting her the colors of this fruit we used to have on my home planet. I really only ever ate them in the summer, but I always loved the colors. A hard green rind on the outside with a white to red gradient inside. They didn’t have an overwhelming flavor but they were so watery and juicy!”

“So what are you going to call this little melon droid?” He crouched down to inspect the pieces you’d painted. It looked like you’d nearly finished before he interrupted you.

“Haven’t thought of a nickname yet. The first part of her serial number is BD-4, which I like because it’s half of eight, and she’ll be half the size of BB-8. Like a lil’ sister. Plus, my partner was born on the fourth moon of Yavin.” You kissed Poe on the cheek. “Anyway, I think having Four around will be good. Not only will it give Baby someone to talk to in his own language, but Four will be full of useful tools. I mean she’ll have the standard scomp link and holoprojector, but BDs were designed to aid researchers and explorers. She’ll have grippy little feet that’ll make walking on all sorts of terrain easy. I’ve even seen people use BDs for ziplining or attaching weapons to them!”

“Droids don’t need to have weapons.” Poe laughed.

“I think Artoo would disagree.” You told him.

“Fine!” Poe conceded. “You can keep the BD, sorry, Four. But she’s your responsibility! I don’t want to hear you’ve stolen away any of my communications officers to help you program it am I clear?”

“One question, if someone volunteers to help say Finn or Rose, am I allowed to say yes?” You asked.

“I’m just going to assume you’ve already roped them in somehow so fine. No finish cleaning up so we can eat. I’m starving.” He ordered.

“Ooh what are we having for dinner?” You wondered excitedly.

“Something fast and from a food synthesizer since my partner has been out bartering with Jawas and painting droid parts all day.” He teased.

“I mean it was this or I upgrade the hyperdrive in your X-Wing.” You shrugged.

“Don’t even think about touching her!” He warned with a smirk.

Author’s Note: Can we normalize the idea of making droids fun colors? Like okay a watermelon colored BD might be ugly but she could be cute!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron fan fiction #poe dameron fan fic

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tearh0seok · 3 years

Text

For all you c!Wilbur and c!Quackity enthusiasts/ people who just like some good old fashioned c!karlnapity angst, this ones for you. Enjoy!!

—————

My Tears Ricochet

And I still talk to you

(when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night

(you hear my stolen lullabies)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The bag hits his back with a solid thump, causing him to stumble forward and grunt from the weight of it. He instinctively reaches out for the nearest wall and steadies himself. He holds his breath for a second, prepared to hear the rustling of bed sheets as someone wakes up due to the noise, before he releases it in a quiet, cynical laugh. He is, as he had been for a while now, alone. No one around for him to hold, to talk to, to wake up, to care about. As he makes his way out into the streets of Las Nevada’s, he scans the area for any sign of life. Slime and Fundy must have turned in early enough, and Foolish had long stopped working on his latest big project. He strolls through the streets quietly, humming to himself as he takes in the nation, his nation. At night, the buildings and area look like a mirror image of the man who owned them: empty, cold and alone. He shakes his head trying not to think about it too much. Now was not a time for self-pity or grief. No, now was the time for revenge. The kind of revenge that he just couldn’t drag the others into, they’d never understand. In fact, they’d all think he was insane. They’d leave him behind, all alone, just like before, with-

“Quackity?”

The voice causes Quackity to drop his bag, the thud echoing against the pristine buildings of his city. He looks up at the road ahead of him, and finds Wilbur Soot leaning against the Las Nevada’s sign, a shadow under the bright lights, with his face illuminated only by the red hot glow of his cigarette. Quackity sees his lips twitch up into a tired smirk, and it immediately makes him want to punch the other man in the face. “You’re on my land, Wilbur,” he growls, picking the bag back up, and throwing it back over his shoulder. His grip on the straps tighten as he hears Wilbur laugh quietly. “I thought we put that in the past, Big Q. You know, healthy competition and all that jazz?” Wilbur says tauntingly. Quackity barely spares him a glance as he trudges past the sign, staring straight over Wilbur’s shoulder to where he can see the glow of the burger van in the distance.

“Yeah well, we’re both closed for the day so I didn’t see a need for any of the formalities,” Quackity mutters, praying that the conversation ends there. But of course, to no avail, as soon Quackity hears footsteps behind him and has to resist the oh so demanding urge to punch this guy in the nose. “Then, off the record and completely out of curiosity, as an old friend, may I ask where we’re going?” Wilbur says, as he falls into step beside the smaller man. Quackity digs his heels into the tarmac and stops, turning to the man beside him. “ We are not going anywhere, I have some business to attend to, and you are going back to wherever you came from and forgetting you saw me,” he grunts, poking Wilbur in the middle of his chest to emphasize his point.

He continues walking, and due to the lack of footsteps he assumes the other man has taken the hint and is heading home. However, he hears the sound of shoes approaching, and suddenly Wilbur is at his side once more. “Oh but now you see, my friend,” Wilbur sighs, voice laced with amusement, “now I’m intrigued. What is this so-called business, why is it so secret, and why-“ Quackity feels a slight pull on his back as Wilbur tries to peek into the bag. He quickly whips around, face to face with Wilbur, hoping the other hadn’t seen the contents of the bag. Unfortunately, the fire dancing in Wilbur’s eyes and the wild grin that covers his face suggests otherwise.

“- Why do you have so much TNT and a flint and steel, Quackity?”

It’s said quietly, but the tone of his voice is so menacing that it causes Quackity to shudder. This is really not how tonight was supposed to go, and the more time Quackity spends here talking to Wilbur, the more time he has to contemplate and regret the decision he’s about to make. So he lets his guard down, briefly, and murmurs, “It’s personal, Will, and I’m already starting to regret it, so the last thing I need is to feel guilty about dragging someone else into this too.” And with that, he slowly turns away, head hanging, and begins mentally bracing for what he’s about to do. He just needs to clear his head, and remind himself that this isn’t his fault, it’s everyone else’s for pushing him away, pushing him to this point, and for leaving him alone, AGAIN-

“Do you need some company?”

The voice is quiet and wavering, and if they hadn’t known each other for so long, Quackity wouldn’t have recognized the unsure tone of Wilbur’s voice. He looks over his shoulder at the other man, whose face, illuminated by the moon, is covered with hesitation.

“Wilbur, I just told you, I don’t want to drag anyone else-“

“I didn’t ask if you wanted company, I asked if you needed it, Quackity.”

The words stop him in his tracks. He feels all the air rush out of his lungs and finds himself struggling to breathe. He looks down at the freshly paved road below him, willing away the hot sting of tears. No one, not even Slime, has asked him that in a very long time. The last person to ever say that to him was probably-

“Listen, I know what it’s like, carrying all of this awful stuff on your shoulders. And I have no doubt that what you’re about to do is going to be something you add to the list of things you regret, but you had to do in the moment. I’m not offering to help, as I can tell this is something you need to do for yourself.” He feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see Wilbur with a grim, but soft smile. “What I’m offering is my presence, just so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Quackity pauses for a moment, taking in the weight of Wilbur’s words, but soon realizes that if he thinks about them too much, he might break down in tears. So he takes the bag off his back and dumps it into Wilbur’s arms. The other catches it with a quiet “oof”, as Quackity grunts, “Let’s go then, we need to get this done by sunrise.”

And just like that, they head off into the night.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur soon realizes that, in hindsight, he should have known where Quackity was headed all along. Quackity didn’t have any major enemies that Wilbur knew of besides Dream and Techno, but Dream is in prison and Techno is god knows where. Quackity also doesn’t seem like the type to commit an act of violence without some sort of motivation, and Wilbur’s 90% sure he wouldn’t do it to threaten someone. Really, using that reasoning, Wilbur should have known their destination. Even as they trekked across the hills and plains, Wilbur should have noticed the direction they were going in. However, it wasn’t until they came to a clearing that opened up onto a shoreline, that he saw their target. While he knows there’s no other option it could be, he still asks the question.

“Why are we at Kinoko Kingdom?”

There it stood, across the water in all its shining glory. Though it was silent in the dead of night, the nation still looked warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to Las Nevada’s at this hour. Wilbur looked at the man at his side, hoping to gauge a reaction, but Quackity’s face was hard as he stared across at the nation like it was the bane of his existence. “I thought you were here to keep me company, not question me,” Quackity grinds out, looking like he’s holding himself back from screaming, or crying, or both. And so Wilbur just shrugs, and places the bag down. Immediately, Quackity throws it open and so the work begins.

Wilbur watches silently as Quackity takes out as much as he can carry and starts making his way around the edge of the shore to the first building he can find. He looks back briefly at Wilbur, indicating for the other man to follow. And while his face remains stony, just as he turns away Wilbur catches a glimpse of the other man’s face crumpling. He watches Quackity let out an unsteady breath, before readjusting the materials in his arms and marching into Kinoko Kingdom.

Quackity, Wilbur is learning, is quite the expert when it comes to TNT. The man is methodical, precise in his placement, ensuring that each piece is in the perfect location to do maximum damage. Although Wilbur said he wouldn’t help, he eventually can’t take the boredom of just standing around, and starts to help. He hears no objection from Quackity, and so he assumes that he is alright to continue. They work in near silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional animal or monster in the distance. Suddenly, a thought comes to Wilbur’s head, and so he stands up and walks over to where Quackity is kneeling, fixing a stick of TNT into place. “Quackity, what about Sapnap and Karl?” He asks, and immediately realizes his mistake. He watches Quackity’s entire body tense up, and the man turns to him, face thunderous.

“What about them?” He asks coldly, and for the first time in a very long time, Wilbur is fearful of the man in front of him.

“Are you just going to leave them here? To…. you know….?”

Wilbur doesn’t finish his sentence, knowing that one wrong word could lead to him having a similar fate to Kinoko Kingdom. However, Quackity relaxes, ever so slightly, and turns back to his work. “They’re not here. They went hunting this morning and I heard from Foolish that they would be gone until tomorrow,” he states, voice wavering slightly, but otherwise filled with certainty. Satisfied with Quackity’s answer, Wilbur picks up some more TNT and begins positioning it near a massive pond in the heart of the kingdom. As he’s working, he hears a small voice cut through the silence.“I couldn’t do it with them here. It’s hard enough without them around, but if they were here - it would be impossible.” Quackity has never sounded more vulnerable, his voice soft yet even, but Wilbur can tell there’s a whole world of pain built within those words. So he leaves any questions he had to the side and continues to work through the silence, with only the moon, stars and the loneliest man in the world for company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When everything’s done, despite the circumstances, Quackity is weirdly proud of himself. He doesn’t take too long to admire his handy work though, as it may cause him to just take it all back and go home. He begins connecting everything together with one long line of red stone. This surprisingly doesn’t take him too long, and soon he and Wilbur are making their way out of Kinoko Kingdom and back to their perch on the other side of the shore, trailing red stone behind them. Once he’s far enough away, Quackity dares to look back, and regrets it instantly. He sees Kinoko Kingdom for all it is- a clear representation of who Sapnap and Karl are, to others, to each other ,and it’s almost as if you can see the love that lives there. And then, on top of it all, protruding and ugly, is the TNT- Quackity’s doing. Quackity’s mark on the place. That is all he represents; destruction and ruin. Quackity knew there must have been a reason they left him behind, and now he sees it; pure, unadulterated evil . He is the cause of his own pain, his own problems. He gets left behind because when people get to know him- when Sapnap and Karl, his boys, got to know him, all they could do is run in fear. From now on, he is the one calling the shots, because Quackity refuses to ever be left behind again. And if that means being alone, forever, then so be it.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes as he walks, feeling like all of the armour he had put on his heart has fallen away, his wounds have reopened and he’s bleeding out. Over the dull white nose in his ears, he hears Wilbur’s voice in the distance, asking if he’s ok. However he doesn’t pay it any attention, simply connecting the chain of red stone to a button placed on the floor in front of him. He looks up one last time, at the place the loves of his life call home. And then, he presses the button.

If you’d asked him how he wanted this to go, Quackity would’ve described it exactly like this; quick, so quick that you’d miss it if you blink, and then so, so, slowly, like you were watching the life drain from the place. That was exactly what they got. The TNT detonated almost all at once, sending earth and debris flying everywhere. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as in the blink of an eye, something so beautiful was completely maimed. Then came the fire, spreading ever so slowly through what remained of the godforsaken place. As Quackity watched the flames grow, he felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. He let out a light chuckle, until soon he was gasping for breath as he cackled, all the while tears rolled down his face. Soon his laughter mixed with heavy sobs, and he felt Wilbur grip his shoulder, pulling him to face the other man. Wilbur’s face was glowing orange, almost as if it was ablaze along with the city they had just destroyed.

“QUACKITY! Pull yourself together!” He shouted sternly, shaking Quackity by the shoulders harshly. Quackity shoved him off, pushing him away with such force that Wilbur fell back into the sand.

“NO! You know what, fuck you Wilbur!” He spits, pointing down at the man beneath him, “ you don’t get to fucking tell me what to do, when you did the exact same fucking thing not too long ago. Remember that? You did it too, so fuck you. Fuck you for being here, for helping, for listening to me, and fuck you for all the shit you did in the past.” With that, Quackity whips himself around to face the destroyed kingdom in front of him.

“And fuck you!” He screams, not caring who hears or how much his voice wants to give out, “Fuck you and your perfect little kingdom, and your perfect little life. Fuck you guys for telling me you loved me.” His voice cracks at the end of the sentence and slowly his screams turn into heart-wrenching sobs. “Fuck you for pretending you cared. Fuck you for promising me that you’d stay .”

He rips both rings off of his left ring finger and throws them into the water, with such a force that he stumbles forward. He collapses to the ground, the weight of his own heartbreak too much to bear. He feels Wilbur drag him up into his lap, cradling him like a child. When he looks up at Wilbur, the other man gently brings a hand to his face, and wipes the tears from his cheeks. It’s been so long since Quackity has been held like this, that it just makes him cry even harder. He buries his head into Wilbur’s shoulder, crying hysterically into the rough fabric of his coat. His last sentence comes out as nothing more than a whisper, broken and defeated by the pain in his heart.

“F-fuck you guys for promising you would never leave me, a-and then doing it anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur sits in silence as Quackity continues to sob into his chest. He watches the last of what was once Kinoko Kingdom burn and crumble, until there is nothing left but smoldering rubble. The sight was almost soothing, like the quiet that comes after a hurricane. He watches as the sun rises, the night turning into a pale, eerie dawn, sky almost grey, and the tide lapping gently against the shore. The only sound for a long time is Quackity’s uneven breathing, along with the occasional hiccup, until he hears voices in the distance. “Quackity, be quiet,” Wilbur hushes him. Quackity looks up, about to say something when the voices get louder in the distance. They both pause and look over at the remains of Kinoko Kingdom, just as Sapnap and Karl emerge from the tree line. Wilbur hears Quackity suck in a breath as they watch the couple’s faces fall in horror. Karl immediately runs forward, and even from this distance, Wilbur hears him gasp and say, “Oh my god, what happened?”. Meanwhile, Sapnap remains silent, shock plastered across his face as he takes in the rubble. Karl turns back to his fiancé, and Wilbur sees the moment Karl’s shoulders sag and his head drops. “It’s all gone, Sapnap,” he hears him say, and then Sapnap is running forward to catch Karl as he collapses into his arms, crying quietly. Sapnap just bundles his lover up into his arms, tears streaming silently down his own face. After a moment, Sapnap begins to lead them back into the forest, presumably headed for a place to stay near everyone else.

Only when the pair have gone, does Wilbur notice the whimpering. He looks down and finds that Quackity is crying again, quietly this time, and is already staring up at Wilbur. He clutches Wilbur’s jacket and stares at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

“W-why don’t I feel better, Wilbur? Why did that make me feel so much worse?”

And because he doesn’t have an answer, Wilbur just embraces him once more, holding the man close to his chest as he cries.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hello Quackity of Las Nevadas, where have you been?”

If Slime notices Quackity’s puffy eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Wilbur had left him in the same place they began their journey, by the sign at the entrance to the nation. Quackity had been hoping to sneak back in undetected, but of course the innocent creature had been waiting for him at the base of the tower. At least it wasn’t someone like Foolish or Fundy, who would’ve been able to see right through him in his current state. Quackity runs a hand through his hair, and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry Slime, I went out for a walk early this morning.”

Slime simply tilts his head, curiosity written all over his face.

“Where did you go?”

Quackity sighs, racking his brain for an excuse. It’s too early, and he’s too tired to be doing this. He gives up on trying to lie.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He starts making his way back to his tower, ready to fall into bed, when Slimes pipes up once more.

“It doesn’t matter? Why? Is it because you’re home now?”

Quackity stops.

He takes a breath, willing the tears down.

He turns around, eyes shining and gives his friend, his true friend, a small, sad smile.

“Yeah Slime. I’m home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sapnap kicks a stone out of his way absentmindedly, strolling through what’s left of his kingdom. He came back to see what he could salvage from the wreckage, after dropping Karl off at Bad’s house to rest. As he strolls by the beach, he stops to pick up a piece of wood lying in the sand. As he does so, he spots something shiny lying just on the edge of the water. He crouches down, and picks it up, only to find 2 engagement rings, each with an initial engraved on them.

He clenches his fist around the rings, heart breaking all over again. He’d recognize those rings anywhere, and he knows what it means, finding them here. He brings his fist up to his lips, pressing a kiss against it, hoping, in vain, that his other love will feel it. He looks out at the water, tears flowing, and prays that someday, they can be what they once were. For now, he places the rings in his pocket carefully, thumbing them over slowly. Before he leaves, he turns back to look at his kingdom once more, and whispers,

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he heads back to Karl, his fiancé, his home .

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

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cuntymir · 3 years

Text

Inupi just wanted to be loved, as himself.

He loved Koko with his whole body, dedicated himself to him. He followed him everywhere and was never not by his side.

Inupi is good at faking, at playing pretend. He's good at pretending he's his sister, wearing high heels and growing his hair.

He remembers the day in the library, when Koko kissed him, him! His lips were soft and warm, the slight chapped feel of them a second thought. He so badly wanted to kiss him back, to reach out and hold his face, push his fingers into his hair, tell himself that this is real. But he can't, because he knows that if he was awake, it would never happen.

He started wearing heels for his own enjoyment, to start. The sound of them clicking and feeling tall and strong was what drew him to them. His sister also wore heels. Koko always talked about how the heels accentuated her legs and how the red ones looked so good. So of course it was for himself, to get Koko to look at him.

Koko looked, god did he look. Always watching his steps, eyes trailing up his legs, over his body and then his face. He looked and stared ans saw Akane. He always saw Akane.

Inupi i grew his hair, mostly to become his sister, but to also hide the scar over his eye. Koko would always thumb the scar gently, feeling the difference between the burnt and untarnished skin. "I'll get your cream, Akane.", his whispers of her name uttered softly only so he could hear, but Inupi always heard, and always wished it was his name being spoken so softly.

After Koko and Inupi drifted, they never rekindled their friendship. They chose different paths and Inupi found himself in close relations with one of Toman's twin dragons, Ken Ryuguji, Draken. The boy (now man) had opened up his own mechanic shop, and asked Inupi if he wanted work.

Inupi quickly agreed, and a budding friendship sparked. It was awkward at first, the two being somewhat shy and reserved, but over time they opened up and the shop was always full of noise, wether that be laughter or the muttered bickering of the two.

Eventually, Draken asked Inupi if he wanted to live with him in his apartment, a way for both of them to save money. Inupi felt the familiar warmth in his chest build, the butterflies going crazy in his stomach, and he knows he's in dangerous territory. But Inupi is a weak, weak man, especially for the tall man in front of him, and readily agrees.

It's somewhat embarrassing, bringing his two boxes worth of stuff, and being confronted with the sheer amount of belongings Ryuguji has. His apartment is filled to the brim with knickknacks, some belonging to himself, but most belonging to his friends.

He gets settled quickly, and adjusts to the new lifestyle. He and Ryuguji continue to become closer, and Inupi's feelings begin to grow.

Inupi is not blind, he sees the way the other looks at him. His hair brushes his shoulderblades now (although still no match for Ryuguji's own, now black mane), and high heels are still a big part of his wardrobe. He feels eyes on him always, in the apartment while making breakfast, when a customer gets just a little too close for the other's liking, but especially when they go out to parties.

Eventually, the looks turn into touches. Innocent at first, hands grabbing him gently to move him out of the way. Feet brushing under the table and on the lounge, hands lingering while going on their daily walks. Inupi can't handle much more, he feels like a plugged bath, feelings at the top and ready to spill out.

It happens one day while they're watching a movie, one of Inupi's favourites, Howl's Moving Castle, him being a sucked for romance. Their legs are slightly tangled, for winter is quite chilly this year, the air sharper. Ryuguji finds himself enraptured by the other, long blonde hair reminding him of his past lover, the scar being a stark reminder that he needs to get his head out of the clouds.

Inupi hasn't taken his eyes off of the screen, and appears blind and deaf to anything other than the television. Ryuguji reaches out, hand large enough to cup his whole right side, thumb brushing the line of where scarred skin meets unblemished, fingers scratching lightly through his hair. The smaller jolts, not expecting the touch and quickly looks up, flush taking over, growing from his face down his neck and chest.

He leans into the touch, eyes meeting the others. Ryuguji is in awe of the boy in front of him, so beautiful and delicate. He leans in, eyes closed and lifts the others head up, lips meeting softly in the middle. Inupi's eyes fly open, then slowly flutter shut. Its a gentle press, just light enough to not scare the other away, but also hard enough to know its not a dream.

They both pull back, twin flushes on both of their faces. Ryuguji goes to pull back, embarrassed that he did that, but arms fly around his neck and he's brought down for another kiss. This time there is no hesitation, the kiss hotter than the previous.

They both let their hands wander, mapping out the person in front. Hands travel to Ryuguji's hair, a light tug pulling a groan from his mouth, Inupi taking advantage and sliding his tongue in, licking over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Inupi jolts, when big, warm hands come to his waist, squeezing and fingers almost meeting around his middle.

He moans lightly from the sqeeze, both boys panting into each others mouths and tongues meeting hotly. He's pulled into the larger ones lap, feeling engulfed by him. They break from the kiss, Inupi's head being tugged backwards by his hair, kisses and licks being placed along the column of his neck, marks being sucked into the hollows of his collar bones. His ass is being palmed by Ryuguji, the boys hand large enough to grab and keep him on his lap.

Their moans are loud throughout the apartment. Inupi drags his hands down the other's chest, feeling the toned muscles there, flitting under his shirt and dragging his nails lightly across his abdomen, drawing a groan from the other into his neck.

The kissing and licking slowly dissipates, the heat pooling in both of their stomachs muting and transforming into butterflies. They eventually just sit there, forgotten movie still playing, just breathing each other in, basking in the afterglow.

Shudders rake through Inupi, tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to fall. Ryuguji feels the shudders against his chest and pulls the other back, grabbing his face softly, like he's a delicate flower. He sees the shine in his eyes, frown taking over his previously smiling face.

"What's wrong, my love?" hands wipe his tears that fall away, one long arm wrapping around his waist to hoist him into his lap more. He's unsure why Inupi is crying, maybe it was something he did?

"I just, I can't believe that you kissed me," his breathing is ragged and gruff, words sticking in his throat being pushed out, "No one has ever wanted to kiss me." There's a double meaning to that, and he hopes Draken will catch on.

Ryuguji is floored. He stops brushing his hair back and just looks at the boy in front of him. His scar is pink against the tan of his face, his eyes blue like the day they met. Tear tracks glistening in the light of the tv screen, lips kissed raw and red, bruised slightly. Ryuguji has never seen someone more beautiful in his life.

"Inupi, baby." He leans down and kisses him on the mouth, close-mouthed and soft, sparks shooting in both their chests. "I've never seen someone as pretty as you." He mutters into his mouth and he means it, mostly.

The boy on his lap stops his shudders, breath catching and eyes snapping upwards, meeting his. Inupi searches his eyes, looking for any hint of a joke or a lie, but finds none. The boy in front of him looking at him so fondly, so in love that it makes him tear up again. Arms thrown around necks and waists, they couldn't be happier, knowing that their affections are returned.

After a few months of dating. Inupi notices slight changes in Ryuguji. His hands linger longer on his chest and hips, hands braiding his hair more. He catches his eyes on the picture of him and Emma, in their youth. They're at a festival, yukatas neat and prim, Ryuguji's hand wrapped around her waist, hugging her close, his smile spanning ear to ear.

Ryuguji asks him one night while laying together, if he would be willing to wear skirts more often. Inupi has no qualms and quickly goes online and orders some he thinks his boyfriend will like (he doesn't mention that he ordered one he remembered Emma used to wear). He dresses up for him, his favourite red heels and skirt on, eyes sultry and smokey, and his lips a bright, boisterous red.

He sits on their bed, Ryuguji's shirt unbuttoned on his shoulders, skirt around his waist and sitting around the top of his thighs while he kneels, waiting. The next day, Inupi can't even walk, and flushes when he sees the makeup imprint on the pillowcases, his boyfriend's cackles resonating throughout the apartment.

As more months go by, Inupi catches Ryuguji staring at pictures of Emma more often. He also noticed that his shampoo and conditioner changed, he remembers the smell of apples and vanilla being the girls favourite smell.

For his birthday, his boyfriend gifts him a new skirt and perfume.

The skirt is a replica of the one Emma used to wear. The perfume is the one she would spray one herself before she left the house each day. He puts on a smile and hugs his boyfriend, thanking him for the thoughtful gifts.

He dresses up again, washes his hair with the vanilla and apple soap, sprays himself with the new perfume, and pretends that the reason Ryuguji was so intense and loving was because it was hie birthday, not because he smelt of old memories.

On their two year anniversary, Inupi is wholly in love with Ryuguji. He loved him more than he ever loved Koko, and Ryuguji loves him for him.

As they lay together that night, on their anniversary, bellies full from a special meal Mitsuya cooked for them, Inupi pretends that he doesn't see Ryuguji kiss the picture of Emma he keeps hidden in his bedside table. He pretends that he is the one Ryuguji loves, while whispers of a past love thrum throughout the room.

Pretends that the hand raking through his hair knows its him, and not Emma. Pretends that he doesnt hear the truth fall from Ryuguji's lips.

A warmth is felt against the crown of his head, a soft mutter slipping through, tears stinging the back of his eyes while he pretends to sleep.

"Goodnight Emma, I love you."

#inupi seishu #ken ryuguji #hajime kokonoi #kokonui #tokyo revengers #imagine #emma sano

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

and then I don’t feel so bad

thanks again to @thecomfortofoldstorries for coming through when I whined at her about needing ideas

also shout-out to my older sister for being the coolest and getting this song stuck in my head today (happy birthday, sis. wish we’d been raised together)

---

Geralt holds the package tightly with both hands and glares down at it with icy anxiety building at the center of his chest. The cloak he’d special ordered two weeks ago is wrapped in brown paper, tied closed with a length of dark blue woolen string. The Witcher, who has faced countless monsters and angry villagers and vengeful nobles alike, takes a deep breath in through his nose and shudders at the thought of his next self-chosen contract: giving Jaskier a Solstice present. He hopes the cloak is good enough. He hopes that he chose a fashionable color, one that Jaskier will enjoy wearing no matter where he chooses to go this winter. Geralt hopes that the heavy wool he’d painstakingly decided on is the right kind of material for Jaskier’s tastes. He hopes… he hopes that everything he’s about to say and do goes well and that he doesn’t fuck this all up.

“Jaskier,” he calls, keeping his tone light as he knocks on the door of their shared room. “Are you decent?”

“Never!” Jaskier laughs from within. Geralt hears a series of quick, light-soled footsteps crossing the floor before the door is flung open to reveal Jaskier in all his evening glory. The bard is, as usual, painfully correct. He’s not very decent at all; his hair is a mess of brown waves that tumble down to cover his smooth, pale forehead. The apples of his cheeks are flushed fuchsia with a combination of wine and the high of a good show. His frilly white shirt is unlaced at the throat and loosened all the way down to reveal the sharp angles of his collarbones. Geralt gulps air like a man near to drowning and pushes his way inside. Has it gotten hotter, all of a sudden? Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow with worry and he closes the door behind his Witcher. “What’s got you even quieter than usual? Are you sick? Injured? Cursed?”

“Witchers can’t get sick,” Geralt answers, almost automatically. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

“Your version of sick, then?”

Geralt doesn’t know what his version of sick means so he ignores the comment entirely. Instead he shoves the package in his hands towards the bard and huffs. “I got something for you. I thought you might like to wear it to keep you warm, especially since I wanted… I was wondering if you’d like…”

Geralt growls and spins on his heel, running one shaking hand through his hair as if that might calm him down. It doesn’t.

“Fuck! Why can’t I be like you? Why can’t I just… say all the things I’m thinking? I’m no good with words, Jaskier.”

“I actually don’t say most of the things I think,” Jaskier shrugs. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from talking any more and ruining the moment. This is clearly something the Witcher needs to do on his own, whatever it is. He smiles softly and holds the paper-wrapped lump against his chest. “But I’m happy to wait for as long as you need, dear heart. Figuring out the right thing to say is hard.”

Geralt’s heart is pounding in his chest. Each beat rings out like one of Roach’s shoes against unforgiving cobblestone. He can practically see the sparks flying from it, igniting something in his chest that flares and wavers like a candle flame in the high breeze. He wants to protect the wavering warmth with every ounce of strength he has.

“I… I got you this,” he gestures towards the gift Jaskier has yet to open, “Because it’s cold at Kaer Morhen. The pass is treacherous, difficult for a human who isn’t prepared, so I wanted you to- I mean if you wanted to come with me, I would-”

His fumbling proposal is interrupted by a dull thwump as the package Jaskier was just holding suddenly hits the wooden floorboards. When Geralt looks up, terrified of the incoming rejection, he’s met with two watery blue eyes. Every one of his worst fears is being actualized in front of him and there’s nothing he can do to stop it now.

“Fuck. Shit, I- I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t know if you would eve-”

Geralt is interrupted again, this time by Jaskier throwing his arms around the Witcher’s shoulders and starting to sob. Geralt panics and instinctively reaches to pull Jaskier closer against his chest. He tucks the bard’s face against the side of his neck and cups the back of his neck with one broad palm; his fingers scratch up the base of Jaskier’s scalp and into his soft, tousled locks. With his other arm Geralt holds the bard tightly around the waist, rubbing small circles into the meat of his hip as he waits for Jaskier’s breathing to return to normal.

“Do you not want to come with me to the keep?” he asks, voice low and gravelly but somehow smaller and more frightened than Jaskier has ever heard it sound before. His heart cracks wide open and his love for his grumpy White Wolf comes spilling out like water from a burst dam.

“Of course I want to come to Kaer Morhen,” Jaskier chuckles wetly. Sadly. “I just never thought… I thought you didn’t want me there.”

Geralt considers the words for a moment. He really hasn’t been the most welcoming friend, all things considered. He can understand why Jaskier feels a bit lost and a bit confused. Overwhelmed, his brain supplies. Jaskier is overwhelmed.

He slowly releases Jaskier and steps away.

“Here,” he grins, kneeling and offering the package back up to the bard, who accepts it slowly. Now those bright blue eyes are shining with a different emotion, and Geralt envies the mages who can read other peoples’ minds. “Open it.”

Jaskier slowly unties the blue string and pulls two or three layers of plain brown paper aside to reveal a cardinal-red woolen cloak. A cloak that Geralt has bought for him. The hood and the hem are just the right size and shape for the season. The shade of red Geralt has chosen really brings out the pink undertones of Jaskier’s skin and the darker flecks of blue in his eyes. Jaskier knows that this cloak’s design is haute couture and probably cost the Witcher a great deal of coin. “Oh… Oh, my sweet, darling Geralt.”

Hearing his name said like that, with such affection and gentle reverence, throws the Witcher into another frenzy of emotion. He can barely stand it. His fists clench at his sides. It takes Herculean effort not to sweep the bard off his feet and spin him through the air, peppering him with excited, happy kisses. Jaskier is coming to Kaer Morhen with him! Jaskier is coming home with him!

“Geralt?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher whispers, taking one slow step and closing the distance between them. The bard does not flinch. He does not move away. He does not step back. “Jaskier, if you don’t mind, I’d like to kiss you very badly.”

“Of course,” the bard breathes, his hand floating up to rest against the warm, stubbled skin of Geralt’s cheek, “I’ve been waiting so long…”

When their lips finally meet, time stops. There is only the warmth of their skin where it’s touching and the soft, gentle desperation of two people trying to prove, for once and for all, that they love each other. When they pause for air Jaskier pulls away a fraction. “Let’s go sit by the fire and chat, shall we?”

“Hmm.”

Geralt settles himself before the fire and pulls Jaskier down onto his lap, arranging him until they’re both comfortable. “Will your family mind my coming with you?”

“They’re expecting you. Actually, they demanded your presence this year. Lambert actually threatened me with bodily harm.”

“Did they, now?”

“Aye. Eskel said he’d find you and bring you back himself if I was too cowardly to buck up like a real Witcher and tell you that I-”

He cut himself off with a blush.

“That you what?”

“That I love you.”

“Well that’s good news,” Jaskier giggles, “And quite the relief considering I’ve been head over heels in love with you for years, now. A decade at least!”

“Y-you…?”

“Me, indeed.”

“I’m glad we’ll all get to hear your wonderful stories this winter,” Geralt nuzzles down against the side of his neck and sends Jaskier into another fit of giggles. “And songs.”

“Do you like it when I sing?”

“I like it best when you make up little songs as we travel,” Geralt admits. “They’re sweet... and I feel like- like they’re just for me.”

Jaskier lights up brighter than a well-cast Igni and settles himself into the Witcher’s tender embrace entirely. He begins to hum to himself and then slowly, in a way that always leaves Geralt impressed and entranced, words begin to form into verse:

“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Big grumpy Witchers that have me quite smitten, Brown paper packages tied up with strings; These are a few of my favorite things.”

Geralt presses a kiss to Jaskier’s temple and hides his blush in the bard’s warm neck.

“Hair soft as silk that went white in the Trials, Arms that can hold me and heft me for miles, Eyes of warm amber I search for in Spring, These are a few of my favorite things.”

The Witcher swears he can’t fall any more in love. It has to be impossible; but then Jaskier’s voice gets even softer and the words are sung so close to his ear that it makes him shiver.

“When the wolf bites, When the bee stings, When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, And then I don't feel so bad!”

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Sentence Starter - Part 2

I decided to gather all my Sentence Starters in a post. This is the second round!

I know I already said thankys before but, really, thank you so much for your support, it means the world for me. <3

[~.~]

[Gee these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!]

"Gee, these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!" Mina wormed her hands under the giggly boy, fishing a loud shriek as she vibrated her thumb between his shoulder blades and her other hand squeezed his sides, resulting in a more desperate wiggling from her victim. "Squish, squish, squish the squirmy Ojiro to fix all the lumps!"

"I AHAHAM NOT A COHOHOVER!"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I am convinced," her eyes glinted when the blond arched his back and her hands immediately dashed to scratch his incredibly, horribly ticklish lower back. "I mean, why else would I find such a cute squeaky toy, oops, I mean, cover in my bed?" Bubbly squeals painted Ojiro's laughter almost as strong as the red that painted his cheeks as he shook his head, protesting.

"I ahaham not s-squeheheaky!" Mina's nails scribbled and grazed on his ribs, the quick, high pitched sounds that flied from his lips contradicting his own words. "That doesn't prove anything!" The tailed teenager managed to breath out before descending in belly laughter again.

His pink friend matched his laughter in response, slowing her silly tickly attack as tears began to form on the other's eyes, pinching and poking his tummy in order to keep the adorable giggles filling the air. The cute wiggles from him and his tail were a bonus, as well.

"Hard day?"

Ojiro nodded, a smile still plastered on his face.

"It was. Your behed is fluffyhihihi. Sorry fohohor intrudihihing."

She waved his worries off, "it's no problem! Just give me a warn next time so I won't lay on you again, okay?"

Ojiro snickered, remembering the scared screams from they both when a few minutes ago Mina decided to jump on her bed and didn't even realize the strange lump that was Ojiro sleeping under all the comforters and plushies.

"I will."

"Good." The pink haired girl then cracked her fingers, a dangerous smirk spreading on her face, probably an effect of being Bakugou's friend, and making goosebumps ran freely on Ojiro's spine.

"No no nohoho!" He shot his hands up in an a placating gesture, excited giggles already falling from his mouth. "I already agreed with you! Please!"

Mina pouted in faux empathy. "Sorry, friendo, but your squeaky squeaks and wiggly wiggley wiggles are just too much cute for me to not tickle you again!"

"Ihihi don't," a snort cut his sentence, "I don't dohoho any of that!" He says, in between his wiggles and squeaks.

"Well," She attacked his armpits, a blinding smile taking over her features as the other began to giggle and snicker non stop. "I am sure we can compromise, eventually."

[~.~]

[I wouldn’t say that with the position you’re in, star student]

"I wouldn't say that with the position you're in, star student." Sero grinned, the non said threat falling heavily between them.

Todoroki blinked, stopping his struggles to lay limply on the floor, still staring the black haired friend on top of him, the fake dagger pressed on his neck.

"It doesn't make sense." Sero threw his hands up, exasperated. Shoto turned to look at Momo, who signalized at Jirou to stop the filmation. "If he's just got into my house in the middle of the night to kill me how does he know about my grades?"

"Well, maybe you just look like a super genius or something!" The other actor retorted, shoving his face on his hands and then on the floor as Todoroki stared at him with an unconvinced expression.

"Or," Kaminari jumped in, ignoring his friends dramatics "he can be his archenemy, building his hate and revenge plan since Todoroki did.... Something bad at him in the school."

Todoroki piked up at the opportunity to put another conspiracy in the movies' plot. "That could make sense."

"Don't encourage him." Jirou smirked at the protesting 'hey!' shouted by the other, preparing another snarky remark before being cut by Momo's voice.

"We're not making any more changes on the plot. We will just remake this scene and then everyone can go home, okay?"

"I think Izuku would lose it if we asked for him to rewrite another part." Nods and mumbles of agreement to Sero's words filled the room as all the occupants remembered the boy's determined rant of why the dagger's blade shouldn't be completely straight nor silver. "Anyway, I still need to buy that new Fatgum's game that came out. Let's move on."

"I can't," the dual haired actor claimed, a blank face "you're sitting on top of me."

And, for a moment, as the pun sank on his friends' brain, only silence met him.

Then Jirou and Kaminari immediately broke in loud laughter, Momo hiding her own chuckles behind her hand.

"Oh my god," Sero bit his own laughter in order to try to look at least a bit serious as he attempted to glare at Shoto. "You think you are so funny, don't you?"

Smugly, Todoroki let the corner of his lips twitch.

"Let me help you to show what is funny, then!"

"Wait-" but he was too late, before the words even came out from his mouth Sero was already dancing his fingers on his sides, switching between squeezing them quickly to scribbling and prodding at his ribs, yelps and guffaws already spinning in the air. "Dohohon't! Wait, wahahahait!!"

The black haired friend laughed with him, his blinding smile and uncontrollable giggles being too much adorable to resist. "I think you actually meant 'I am very sorry for ever complaining about your great performance, my amazing friend Sero.', right?"

Todoroki shook his head, gasping and squirming harder when Sero experimented clawed at his stomach, a series of quiet nononono's and pleaseplease's spilling freely from his lips.

"Tsk. Not even close, man. But don't worry, we have aaaaall the afternoon." A snort escaped from Todoroki and he hid his face on his hands, making Jirou 'aww' and Kaminari shout a 'wait wait make he do it again!' "So take your time, OK?" And then, in a quieter voice "If I go too much far just hold my wrists and I will stop."

A barely there nod showed that the other had heard him, however, as his hands continued to hid his face, bright laughter and shy giggles still filled the studio for much more time.

[~.~]

[Oh yeah! I told you’d they’d win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!]

"Oh yeah! I told you they'd win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!"

"B-but this is not fair! Tokoyami bought the victory by offering to do Shoji's dishes! That is not a-!

"There is nothing against this in the rules." Tokoyami shrugged, still panting from the sparring. "And I just remembered there is Midnight-sensei's paper for tomorrow that I didn't even start."

"Sorry, Midoriya. But we will have much more training in the future, still, and your analysis really helped me! You're right, maybe starting to use some weapon, since a hand to hand combat can give my quirk some damage, will be a good advantage." The taller teenager waved at them, Dark Shadow mirroring him enthusiastically as they followed Tokoyami back at the dorms. "I should search for options before choosing. Thank you for the cheering."

Kaminari waved back before turning to Izuku, his smile getting bigger as he saw his protesting pout. "Aww, is someone angy?" He hugged him from behind, snickering when he saw a glimpse of a smile on the other's expression before an exaggerated frown took over, green eyes deviating from his teasing grin.

"I know you want to smile. ~" Denki delivered a couple of pokes on his stomach, an evil idea full of wiggly fingers and giggly squeals blossoming on his mind. "Maybe the 1-A sunshine need some cheering up after being such sore loser? ~"

Midoriya turned on his embrace, now being face to face at him, determination burning on his features.

"Maybe I do!"

And then he blew a raspberry right on that spot where his neck and collarbone met. A loud, surprised squeak answered him and he was quick to dig on Kaminari's hips, being so careful and so mindful to give plenty of attention and tickles to every sensitive inch of flesh, don't forgetting to still deliver smaller raspberries at random spots on the blond's neck, successfully ending with all his coordination to get revenge.

"Whahahahat!! That is nOT-" A snort, more bubbly giggles. "That is not fahahhair!!!"

"But you're helping me to cheer up. See, I have no more pouts and no more frowns thanks to you!"

"Then stop!"

Kaminari tried to squirm his way out of the ticklish embrace, finding that maybe bringing Midoriya to his lap when he decided to tickle-hug him wasn't his best idea.

"I don't know. I think I am still a bit grumpy..." He stopped his attack in order to gently trace that spot right on the blond's right third rib, drawing circles around it and trying to not giggle together when Denki's bubbly snickers filled the air. "Maybe you amazing laughter can help me with that!"

[~.~]

[You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail...]

"You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail..." Izuku said, thoughtfully, a particular idea shining on his mind that may or may not was inspired by yesterday's Great Tickle Fight.

"Really?" Ojiro, (un)fortunately, didn't notice the danger hidden on the smaller's words, petting the duster and the fluff on his tail for a bit in comparison. "It really is. But it's not stronger like mine tail!" He made a show of flexing the aforementioned, both chickling at his silliness. "Oh, are you going to clean the curtains? I can help!"

A plan formed on Izuku's mind. He controlled his features to not show the playful grin that threatened to take over his face.

"Yes. Could you hold that part right there?" He pointed to a high spot on the fabric. "I can't research it."

"No problem!" The blond smiled and did as asked, not realizing the way Midoriya stepped closer nor how his shirt exposed a small patch on his stomach with his new position. "Like this?"

"Yes!" Izuku, then, shoved the fluffly, soft, tickly duster under his shirt, instigating a loud squeak to escape from the other.

"Midoriya!!"

But he didn't let go of the curtain, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yes?"

"Dohon't"

The green haired boy slightly moved the duster, quick enough to make the bristles of the feathers to barely tease the skin, but only that. Another yelp and a few giggles leading Ojiro to try to hide his red face on his shoulder.

"Don't what?" He beamed.

A small shook of head, a shy giggle. "Ihim not falling for thahat."

"Aw. But I am going to tickle you anyway!" Ojiro yelped, trying to curl on himself, however immediately regretting his decision as the movement shot light shocks across his torso, every feather following his squirms. "Yes! I am going to tickle, tickle, tickle you until all those cutes squeals and nice laughter trapped inside are free. As a future hero, it's my job to help them!"

"Dohohon't say that word." His words were in vain, especially because now Midoriya carried that determined look, thoughts racing on his mind as his hands continued to keep the duster on the same place.

"Maybe I should try to tickle his stomach first? I could start wiggling the duster there and then change to his sides and ribs or maybe I could start on his sides and ribs going up and down a few times and then tickle his stomach as I change from a side to another. The element of surprise is always a powerful tool so I should always change from going extremely soft and low to more quick attacks! I wonder if I can try it on his tail too? I could-"

"Ihihizuku, please!" The one being called snapped out of his rambling by a very flustered, giggly Ojiro, who still held the curtains as if his life depended on it. "J-juhust do it already, plehease."

And Izuku was happy to oblige.

[~.~]

[As nice as this is, we really should get up]

"As nice as this is, we really should get up." Tokoyami said softly, patting the green hair of the head which rested on his shoulder, - it was really as fluffy as it looked! - almost snorting when Midoriya squinted his eyes at the credit's playing on the screen. "Everyone else already went to their room."

Izuku looked around, as if he just realized all his friends decided to call it a night when President Mic - who has been called both due his good taste in movies and to keep an eye on them and their ability to cause chaos - woke up half of the class as he fell asleep in a bad position and started snoring, accidentally activating his quirk.

"It's not-" A yawn cut Izuku's words and pulled Tokoyami away from his thoughts. "It's not a movie night if we can't watch at least five movies."

"Oh no, the horrible punishments that the Universe will bought upon us after such terrible offense. What we shall do in the face of that helpless fate?"

Midoriya lightly shoved him away, a sleepy smile taking all the seriousness from his frown. "N't f'nny."

Tokoyami started to softly scribble his fingers on the other's neck, following him as he tiredly wiggled away, no real fight on his movements.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Tohohokoyami! Naha!"

"What? Wait... Is this the punishment from the Universe?" Maybe it was because it was so rare for his friend being this playful, or because the drops of faked seriousness painting his words, but Midoriya found himself giggling harder, a bubbly tittering escaping as the tickling traveled to behind his ears. "Giggling and wiggling until we inevitably give up and decide to watch movies until the end of our brief mortal existence, oh, the pain."

"You're so sihihihilly!"

"Me, the embodiment of darkness ‘silly’? Oh, Midoriya, what have they done to you?" His tune was bathed in faux pity.

"Plehehehease!" Tokoyami decided to travel to the smaller boy's sides, scratching and poking them lightly enough to keep the flow of airy laughter and rare squeaks as a reward for the sudden, quick pinches. "It tickles! It tickles so much!"

"The Universe is tickling you? Will the cruelness ever end? Ah, the struggles someone as ticklish, so, so ticklish as you must be going through... Do not give up, Midoriya!" He did his best to not huff in amusement as the aforementioned hugged him, hiding his face oh his chest and muffling his louder laughter due the teases. "Don't let its darkness to dim your light."

His fingertips grazed the back of his ribs, Izuku only giggled harder, "Okahahay, Okay! We- no, not there! - we can go slehehehep!"

Tokoyami stopped the light tickling, waiting for the moment green eyes locked on his before proceeding, a deadly serious gaze on his face.

"Don't." Izuku warned.

"But the Universe's punishment-"

"O-oh my GOD!"

[~.~]

[i did not say that!]

"I did not said that!" But the giggles were already spilling out.

"Yes!!" Izuku, the traitor, couldn't be any more happy, basically sparkling as the feathers of his wings fluffed up in amusement. "You did! You did! You did! I am totally going to do that, now!"

Kirishima was quick to retrieve a pillow and prepare it to a fight, pointing it at his guardian angel with a half groan, half giggle. "That is not fair, man!! You can't ask questions when I am about to sleep, I always say the first thing that pops in my mind!"

"It wasn't really my original intention," the angel smiled sheepishly. "Humans' need to sleep are still confusing to me... But!!" He crept closer, fingers wiggling. "That only means that when you said yesterday..."

"No."

"That you likes when I-"

"No!" Big smiles, small giggles. "Come on. Shut up!"

"-that you like when I tickle you-" The rest of the sentence was a squeak as the red haired boy jumped at him, his soft weapon firm on his hands, and both dashed across the room in a chase. "I knew it!" Izuku laughed, - laughed. Not shyly giggled or awkwardly grinned, - pleased that one of his theories about his protected human (and friend) was right.

Damn, Kirishima wanted to at least fake a pout and put on a real fight, but how could he when the magical being was acting so happily? When he was so full of joy?

That didn't stop him from tackling his friend on the floor, both rolling in a playful roughhousing and playing fair until Kirishima felt something incredibly, impossibly soft on his neck, wide eyes as he realized only now how Midoriya's wings were stretched around him, almost engulfing both beings on its length.

The soft feeling came back, now scribbling all over his neck, sending tickly shocks through his body and weaking his strength, something which allowed the other launch his arms around his waist, hugging Eijirou from behind and leaving him to freely stare at some free feathers that slowly swung on his direction, aiming for his tickle spots.

Izuku felt a bit worried when the human stopped squirming.

"If I last 30 seconds without laughing you will let me go to that Parkour classes on Monday."

"But they're dangerous," Eijirou interrupted him, "you can use your magic feathers."

He could almost feel the angel thinking, analysing his options.

"Forty-five seconds."

"I will get you back and ask Shinsou to help me."

Pout. "You're mean."

A feather wriggled on his bellybutton, cutting any snark answer that the human had to that.

More feathers appeared in front of him. Adrenaline ran on Kirishima's veins at the idea of his new challenge.

"Deal."

[...]

Sidenote: Shinsou is Kirishima's cat. He loves to randomly lay and nap on the angel, but for some reason his purring tickles Izuku. He likes to purr a lot. Izuku is almost sure the feline knows what he is doing. Kirishima think the whole situation is hilarious.

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youalexturnermeon · 3 years

Text

Chasing the Past Pt. 2 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Click for Part 1

Request by Anon: Could I please get a Johnny Lawrence imagine where he and the reader (who is daniels sister) are secretly dating. Maybe like an old flame back in the 80s and now they reconnected?

A/N: In the first part (Y/N), Daniel LaRusso’s sister, came back to LA after five years of being away. She reconnects with Johnny and wakes up in his apartment after getting drunk at a party. In this part (Y/N) and Johnny have to face Daniel and his rage hahaha

Warnings: swearing(!!!), mentions of alcohol, angst, fluff and maybe a little bit of slight smut

Wordcount: 2473

Johnny’s face is almost doubled right in front you, but you see it as a good thing, twice as much of Johnny is great. Four bright blue eyes are much better than just two. But then there are two again. He has you close to him, his strong hands resting on your hips, slowly making their way further down to your ass and he is twirling you around. You dance. “I missed you, Johnny” you slur and cup his beautiful face, on it the dirtiest grin you have ever seen. He doesn’t answer, just squeezes your ass and suddenly kisses you. Almost too much tongue, red lipstick on his face, sloppy kisses on the neck and the jaw. You are melting under his touch.

Blurry way though the dark, you are laughing, Johnny and you still dancing together through the night. In his hand a bagged bottle, you don’t care what’s inside as you take a sip. You stop for a heated make-out session, he presses your back hardly against the wall of an apartment complex and his hands are already making their way under your sweatshirt. The bottle slips out of his hands and breaks on the ground. “God, I’ve been thinking about doing this for five years!” Johnny grunts and almost violently kisses you. “Get a fucking room!” someone shouts angrily in the distance “Get away from here, you fucking pervs!”

White sheets, clothes everywhere, naked bodies, Johnny’s hands all over you, moans. You are enjoying yourself. Johnny’s messy blonde hair.

____

“Fuck”, you said again, almost in disbelief but this time you were smiling. Out of the sudden, Johnny moved. Your heart started beating, you didn’t know if you were ready for any conversation. You didn’t even know if Johnny would regret this or not. You most certainly didn’t, you just wished to remember a little bit more of the steamy night.

“Good morning, princess”, he whispered, voice all raspy and sleepy, he yawned and stroked your hair, “Did you sleep well?”

“I feel like shit” you admitted and sat up, dragging the covers over your bare chest, which immediately stressed how your head was still heavy and spinning. You almost wished you didn’t sit up in the first place, you wanted to lay on Johnny’s chest again. But you didn’t and just stared at him. God, he was still so beautiful. You then signed over to his naked torso, “Did we…?” You still had to reassure yourself that this amazing night actually happened.

“Oh yeah” Johnny answered proudly and sat up too. You were surprised when the first thing he did was kissing you. This Johnny you didn’t know, you caught glimpses of him, but he never fully showed himself. Then he got out of bed, put on some clothes and turned to you.

“I’ll get you an Aspirin and then I will make you breakfast”

“What is it with you Johnny?” you asked, completely perplexed, “You never made me breakfast, you never cared the next morning” Johnny shrugged: “And you see what it got me, the girl who finally made me get over Ali and the fight with Daniel, who made my life a little less miserable just disappeared on me for five years without a trace. I don’t want you to disappear on me again for god knows how many years this time”

Without a trace was a lie, he still could’ve gone to Daniel LaRusso, ask him about his sister, ask for her phone number, her address. But when you went to college you made it perfectly clear that Daniel would kill him without having second thoughts for banging his sister and if he didn’t manage, you would’ve killed him yourself. And after all this time Johnny asked himself why he cared about that, why he was such a pussy and cared about what Daniel would think and do, above all. Now he didn’t anymore, he had no fucks to give about it anymore. As long as you were by his side for a little while, he could live with Daniel hating him more than he did already.

“Glad, to have been at your service, you asshole” you said rolling your eyes but still laughing.

“You’re welcome. So, are you saying we keep that going or what?”

You shrugged.

“Does that mean you are staying in Reseda?”

You shrugged again, it kind of did but you’d never know for how long. Thankfully, Johnny dropped the topic after that. Just like you, he really wasn’t the type to talk relationships. Maybe you two would’ve taken a different path when he had been the last time but that was again, ancient history.

____

The breakfast was simple, Johnny wasn’t the greatest cook, but that was okay, you weren’t either. It was more about the time you spent together. It was fun, it felt amazing being with him in his tiny kitchen, just talking about the old times and joking around. It was even fun when he flunked a spoonful of scrambled eggs directly in your face. You ate, you took a shower you scrubbed off all the remaining make-up from last and you felt a little bit better. Johnny enjoyed having you over. Normally, he didn’t let his girls stay that long, he usually made them go home very quickly, not so with you. He’d even be okay with you staying the whole day, hell, even another night or two. But as soon as you got of shower his hope vanished.

“I need to go home now” you announced shyly.

“So soon?” “Yeah, Danny is probably worried sick, I also promised him, we go out for sushi today, just us two.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and hugged you suddenly, almost a little too tightly “Don’t you want to stay?”

“To be honest, I do, but I also want to spend some time with my big brother.”

“I guess, I’ll drive you home then” “Only if you want to, I can walk or get a cab”. Fortunately, you didn’t manage to lose your handbag at the beach, so you’d have enough money.

“That is out of question. I always drive my babes!” Johnny said proudly which was a big fat lie, he didn’t always bother but with you, it was another situation.

The car ride was not as bad as you had expected, you didn’t get sick which you were afraid you would do because you still could remember well enough how fast Johnny drove. Yet, it was great to sit in his red Pontiac Firebird again, it shot your memories straight back to high school when you secretly hung out with Johnny for a couple of times. Sadly, it was over too soon. Johnny pulled up in the driveway to Daniel’s apartment building. He quickly got out of the car to open the car door for you before you could reach the handle yourself.

“Wow, I don’t know if like that new Johnny” you laughed and nudged him, “Far too nice!”

“Yeah, would you like me doing that instead?” Johnny’s eyes darkened and you remembered also seeing that look last night and out of a sudden he pinned you between the red Firebird and him, his face very close to yours.

“Do you like me being a bad guy instead?”, his lips brushed over you when he talked. And you wanted to say yes or even nod but you breath quickened; your hart started beating a faster rhythm.

“Thought so.” he whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine on that hot summer day. He was just about to kiss you, maybe you should go back to his place after all, you thought, when you were instantly interrupted.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lawrence!?!?!?” a scream echoed through the whole block, “Get the fuck away from her!”

Johnny promptly jumped to side but as soon as the realized who that was coming from a dirty grin appeared on his perfectly shaped lips. Daniel, face almost grey with fury, was running towards them, eyes all wild, hands clenched to fists.

“Oh fuck”, you gasped but couldn’t hold back a laugh, that was too absurd, “Maybe you should’ve dropped me off a few blocks away”

“Nah, this is going to be fun”

But you thought otherwise, this was going to be anything else bun fun. Comical, but definitely not fun.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?” Daniel yelled pointing a finger at you when he finally came to a halt right in front of you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m completely fine, thanks for asking Danny”

“Don’t you fucking talk back to me like that!” “Jesus, Daniel, watch your filthy mouth, you didn’t swear that much since forever.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Daniel kept on, ignoring your sarcastic remarks, “You did not come home the whole night, I’ve got no call, nothing. I didn’t sleep, I was waiting for you, I was so fucking worried and then you finally decide to come here with him and you’re talking to me like I’m the bad guy?” Daniel pointed at Johnny without even looking at him.

“Ok, mom, calm down”

“Don’t you mom me, (Y/N). You smell like a fucking distillery; you look like shit and where the fuck are your shoes?” You looked down on your bare feet, then at Johnny who had protectively placed a hand on the small of your back and you two suddenly burst out laughing. Your drunk ass simply lost them at the beach.

“How dare you even make a sound?” Daniel shouted, this time at Johnny. It was getting embarrassing, even some neighbours were now watching how Daniel took a threatening step towards Johnny. He still was a few inches smaller than him, but he managed to compensate that with his glance. A little bit more wrath, you thought, and he would be shooting sparks out of his usually warm brown eyes.

“Damn, LaRusso, don’t wet your pants. You look like you are about to die from a heart attack” “Shut the hell up, Lawrence” Daniel growled and came even closer, so close the tips of their noses almost touched and Johnny just kept on smiling, he didn't even flinch “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

Johnny shrugged, he did.

“What the hell is my sister doing with you?”

“She just likes me a lot more than she likes you” Johnny’s grin kept getting dirtier and dirtier with every word leaving his mouth “Actually, she always liked me a lot. When I was beating your ass in high school, (Y/N) always has been hanging out with me instead of pitying you. While you were training with your weird-ass sensei, I gave her rides all the time, we were friends. When you won in ’84 she didn’t go with you to celebrate your illegal kick, she stayed behind and cared for me. Dragged me out of the parking lot and brought me into a hospital together with Bobby and Dutch. She just never told you because a delicate little flower like you would simply die from that. And when you were trimming trees, I fucked her every goddamn day until she went away”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Johnny in shock then at Daniel who needed a second to process everything that had been said. That was about it, Johnny dropped the bomb, he told Daniel everything that was kept secret from him and everything that he needed to know.

“You did fucking what?” Daniel asked through clenched teeth, his hands shaking, he was barely holding himself back and you knew, some whit was about to go down real quick.

“I fucked your sister LaRusso, five years ago and tonight and she liked it”

And you couldn’t even say anything against it, every bit of it was true. And when Daniel gave you a quick look he knew exactly. And then, very unlikely for Daniel he threw his first punch, Johnny immediately blocking it. He shoved you to the side so wouldn’t get between them. Both stood in fighting positions and then everything happened so fast. There was a lot of fists and legs and kicks and punches, too rapid for your eyes to grasp it. And you couldn’t believe it. After all these years, these to very still ready to kill each other. But you had enough, you had enough of this stupid rivalry, you had enough of them hating each other for no reason and you definitely had enough of being their recent motive for fighting.

“Stop!” you yelled, they ignored you, “Stop it! I’ve had enough of your stupid Karate bullshit! I’m sick and tired of you two always fighting. I can’t deal with being dragged into it! I fucking hate this. Why is this the first thing that happens to me after being back after five fucking years? Why you always have to be such a drama queen, Daniel? Why are you the only person you care about, huh? And you” you turned your shouting towards Johnny “why do you always have to keep the fire going why can’t you just let it be for once?”

Your screams were much louder than Daniel’s before, but the fighting enemies still ignored you.

“If one of you throws another punch, I’m gonna call the cops and you two can sort it out in a prison cell! I don't want you to kill each other just because you see me as an object that can only belong to one of you. I'm not, I like both of you. You're my brother and I love you. And I fucking love him, Daniel”

These words worked magic on Johnny who immediately let his arms sink and whilst he looked at you, worry written into his face, he received one last kick in the guts for losing his concentration. You threw yourself at Daniel and tried to hold him back from doing more damage, for a second you were afraif he was about to kill Johnny. But with you holding him, he did not dare to keep on fighting. He didn't want to hurt you. And yet he tried to free himself from you.

“Please, Danny” you cried “Please stop and let me be!”

Daniel remained silent and calmed down, you let him go. You went over to Johnny and embraced him, he hissed under your touch but couldn’t help himself than to press you closely to his chest. His face was beaten, his lip was bleeding, and a fresh cut crowned his brow.

“I’m so sorry, babe!” he whispered into your ear and kissed your cheek. He never apologized for fighting. Until now.

“No, I’m sorry!” you said and stroked back the sweaty hair from his forehead, then you turned to your brother, “You better be sorry, too”

“I am.”

“LaRusso is sorry?” Johnny wondered and spat blood on the ground, “That’s new”

“Shut up!” you shushed him

“I am sorry, (Y/N), I didn’t know you liked this jerk that much.” “To be fair, me neither” Johnny admitted “But I fucking love her, too, LaRusso, you know?” Daniel nodded, maybe for his sister’s sake he was ready to give his last enemy up.

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence fluff #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid fluff #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #daniel larusso #daniel larusso imagine

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darkeninganon · 3 years

Text

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

#Gream #Ghost Dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Gream is trying to remember things #but he doesn't see himself/Dream/Who Dream Became as the same #So if he were to ever make a ''pre-wilbur'' version of himself #he'd call it Dream as opposed to Nightmare #I was super creative with names wasn't I? XD #He also references the incident with George #angst

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Note

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

#cozy ask #worked quite hard on this one #really like the result too #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #abbacchio x reader #melone x reader #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #leone abbachio x reader #pomo

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guro-giri-letters · 3 years

Text

It ain’t easy : Spinner x reader!

- By Guro. ♡

/While you and the League try to survive the summer heat in your new hideout, you and Spinner have a heart to heart. This is a longer one! Posted it on Ao3 but it’s another nice wholesome one (a little flirty) so thought I’d post it here too. Enjoy! ♡/

/Tags l Tw ; No warnings, flirting, Spinner is cute and kind of clueless. ♡/

Spinner isn’t fond of the cold but God damn, he wished your current hideout wasn’t quite so hot.

Dabi groans aloud as he peels his coat off, ducking through the only window in the entire building he and Twice had managed to shove open. “Damnit, I’m cooked,” he grits out, and then shoots both Twice and Toga a look when they snort in response. The current Hotel de League is the shell of an old apartment complex, all sealed up and stuffy from prolonged disuse. None of the windows open. Nothing electric works. But it’s dark and built strong, and far enough on the outskirts of the city that they aren’t likely to get caught squatting.

So here they’ll stay, for hell knows how long. The window they’ve found and forced open gives way to a decent sized balcony, more than big enough for most of the League to lounge on.

Toga sits happily, her legs dangling through the gaps in the bars that act as a safety railing. Dabi moves to crouch next to her and light a cigarette, rolling his eyes heavily and handing the box over to Twice when he motions for it enthusiastically. Spinner sits at the other end of the balcony, giving one of his many blades a much needed sharpening and watching the distant city. Despite the heat he feels quite content today, almost enchanted by how small everything in the city looks from here. Like he could lift it up in his hands, like a sword-wielding Godzilla.

“I’m back guys!” There’s a general murmur of greeting as you climb through the window and onto the balcony to rejoin your group, smiling at Toga as she twists around to wave at you enthusiastically. You nearly trip on your way in, planting a very warm hand on Spinner’s shoulder to steady yourself. As you straighten up, you give him an all too pretty smile in the way of thanks. Spinner can feel himself flush instantly but he tries to play it off, giving you a simple nod as you turn away and delve into the convenience store bag on your arm. Since you’re the newest member of the League, it’d been you who’d been sent out to buy some essentials to keep you all going.

“Here’s your cigarettes Twice, so you can stop stealing from Dabi.” Tossing the little cardboard box, Twice catches it with a blink, the line of his uncovered mouth twisting as Dabi gives him an accusatory scowl. “Oh, here Toga,” you chirp, handing over a strawberry ice pop to the younger girls' complete delight. She thanks you loudly, tearing the plastic packet open with her sharp teeth.

You continue chattering casually, giving out the things you’d retrieved on your short trip. Spinner watches you idly, his blade forgotten as his eyes follow you moving around in the warm sun. You’re such an easygoing person, he thinks. It’s one of the things he likes about you. You just look like you’re enjoying every moment of your time, even as you lean through the window to hand the bag and the rest of its contents to Shigaraki. Your leader takes it with two hooked fingers, blinking at you behind Father before retreating into the safety of the shadows wordlessly. For his part, Spinner looks away pointedly while you’re bent over.

“I wasn’t stealing from you!” Twice is retorting when you return and drop to sit by Spinner, snickering to yourself at the sight of Dabi leaning over the masked man, threatening. “And I’ll do it again!” Toga giggles too, and Dabi grumbles something Spinner doesn’t even hear because you’ve turned to look at him, earning his full attention instantly. Laying one of your hands over his own, you squeeze it gently.

“What are you thinking about, Spinner?” The gentle tone of your voice is enough to muffle the sound of your allies still bickering. Shifting, he moves around to face you better, watching with a blink as you take a small bite of your own ice pop. Noticing him watching you offer it to him, licking your lips. “It’s apple.”

“No thanks,” he can feel himself getting flustered again as you shrug, removing your hand from his in the process as you get comfortable. Taking another bite of your cold treat and leaning back against the bars, you squint up at the unforgiving sun. With the heat beating down you feel so warm against Spinner’s side, your legs stretched out and leaning against his own as you relax fully, humming quietly and rolling your shoulders back. “I wasn’t thinking about anything, really,” he adds to fill the silence. To his surprise you actually snort at this, letting out a quiet giggle. “What?”

“Spinner, you’re always thinking,” you reply easily as you take another bite of your ice pop. You reach into his lap, making him jump involuntarily at the sudden move, but you’re only looking for his hand again. This time you slide your fingers through his own and squeeze lightly, your smaller palm feeling so different in his reptilian one. Spinner swallows and tries to appear aloof and unaffected, stoic, but he can’t not stare at your joined hands. The soft slide of your skin against the rougher texture of his own, it makes him think of the rest of your skin, soft and sleek. Coughing, he instantly pushes down those feelings because what the hell is he thinking? Sure you’re about his own age, but you’re so pretty, so nice.

Damnit, he likes you doesn’t he?

Forcing himself to relax, he wonders vaguely if you might like him too, or if you ever could. It’s not that Spinner thinks himself undateable or anything, but… the villain has never been great with girls, knowing how they feel or what they’re thinking. And it’s not like he’s had much experience with flirting or anything, either. Who’s he gonna practice with? Twice? He snorts to himself inwardly at the thought. But… but you’re a pretty laid back person, right? Laid back and nice and honest. If he asked you you’d just tell the truth, wouldn’t you? Considering this possibility gives him a small burst of hope, and he turns his head to look at you again. You’ve just finished your ice pop, and you’re chasing melted drops that have ran down your wrist with your tongue, licking your lips when you’re done. Like your ice pop, the bit of courage Spinner has worked up melts away in seconds and he’s left hot-faced and fidgeting. You catch him looking, grinning instantly. “What? Is it on my face?”

“Oh, no- no, you’re good,” he replies surprisingly evenly, and then jumps when you scoot a little closer to him, tilting your head.

“Did it turn my tongue green?”

Spinner really thinks he’s going to freak out, his tough guy act is doing nothing here. Your tone has gone all soft and silky, secretive almost, sticking your tongue out at him with a playful grin. Of course it’s turned your tongue green, and you smell like apples and sugar. His eyes dart from your open mouth to your bright eyes, glowing under the rays of golden sun.You look pleased with yourself as you draw your tongue back in, your thumb running over his scaled knuckles.

“Yeah, it did,” Spinner breathes finally, mind blank of anything else to say as you somehow draw in even closer. Your hand leaves his and moves up to rest on his bicep, firm with muscle, your free hand coming up to cradle his jaw. Did you- were you going to kiss him? No way. “Y/n?” He murmurs, quietly, like the two of you are telling secrets.

“Spinner?” It’s an outright purr. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die under all of your attention. Jerking, his hands fumble and land on your waist to keep himself from toppling over as you pull him in close. You don’t mind the contact though, uncaring of your companions so close by as your nose moves in close to his snout. You smile, warm and sweet. “Are you really going to make me ask you to kiss me? Such a tough guy, Shuichi.”

The series of unfortunate events that takes place in the next few seconds happens way too quickly. You tilt your head up, like you really are asking him to kiss you. And he’s only just decided that he is in fact going to kiss you when a leg suddenly emerges from the window, nearly standing directly on top of you. You let out a yelp, darting forward and knocking against Spinner’s firm chest just as Mr Compress stumbles his way out onto the balcony. He almost falls right onto you, standing on Twice’s ankle and sending the masked villain into a flurry of contradictory yells that in turn causes Dabi to jump in surprise, cigarette flying out of his hand and dying in a melted puddle of ice pop left by Toga. A moment of silence fills the balcony, all of you glancing between each other in clear expectancy of someone completely losing it. It drags on a moment, and then Dabi growls, head thumping back against the railing. “I’m not even getting mad, I’m too hot.”

With that, the momentary bubble of tension burst with ease.

“My popsicle melted!”

“Mr Compress stood on us!”

“How inelegant of me, I must be getting out of practice! My apologies, dear,” Mr Compress lays a gloved hand on your shoulder, bending down to you as he straightens his hat. “I did nearly step on you.”

“It’s okay, Compress!” You haven’t moved from where you ended up, an arm around Spinner’s shoulders and your other hand on his chest to steady yourself. He hadn’t even realised he’d grabbed onto you, one of his arms locked around your waist to trail you out of Mr Compress’ way. Tangled together with you, in front of everyone, the heat outside, it all feels a little too much all of a sudden for Spinner. Without a word the scaled villain untangles himself from you, stands, and bee-lines straight for the window. “What- Spinner?” You call after him, getting up to your knees with a frown.

He looks back at you before he climbs through, a pang of guilt hitting his chest at your confused expression, like you think you’ve done something wrong. Sighing, Spinner forces himself to look away. “I’ll be back,” he says, like it could be directed at anyone on the balcony. Twice and Compress both murmur their farewells but you don’t say anything, sighing and drawing your knees up close to yourself… Had you been too forward? You didn’t think you would scare him off but maybe you had.

Spinner doesn’t come back in the next hour. He doesn’t come back for the rest of the afternoon either. By the time the gecko-quirk villain does step back out onto the balcony it’s late evening, and everyone has already made their way back into the complex. Well, nearly everyone. The blue glow of Dabi’s flames catches his eye a second too late and the pair share a vaguely awkward glance as Dabi lights his cigarette. Shaking his wrist, the burnt man extinguishes the flame and exhales a cloud of smoke. “You ran off fast earlier, lizard.”

“Shut your mouth, ash-tray,” Spinner grumbles in return, planting his elbows on the railing and staring out at the now-dark, distant city. “I wanted out of the sun.”

“You wanted out from under y/n.” Spinner glares at the jab. Dabi huffs smoke at him through his teeth, the corner of his stapled up mouth turning up. “You’re not denying it,” he rasps in that rough, odd tone of his. Spinner hates it. He almost hates Dabi himself, but not entirely. After all they’d joined with much the same intentions, hadn’t they? They had some similarities, but he definitely hates Dabi’s attitude. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”

“I’m not-” The window creaks again and both men turn their heads, watching as you climb through the window back onto the balcony. You’re wearing an oversized shirt and your feet are bare; you actually look like you’ve just woken from a nap. Blinking sleepily, you notice the pair after a moment and smile, stretching your arms above your head.

“Why’re you two awake?” You ask through a yawn, dropping your arms and moving to seat yourself by the railing.

Dabi ignores your question, flicking his cigarette and choosing instead to make direct eye contact with Spinner. “Can’t sleep, y/n?”

“No,” you reply wistfully, tilting your head. “I can never sleep in new places, Unfamiliar, you know?”

“Hm…” Dabi murmurs in return, narrowing his eyes. Was he trying to get a rise out of Spinner? Anger him on purpose? Just when Spinner thinks this Dabi grins, his teeth flashing white in the dark. He looks right at you, tilting his head and scratching at the back of his mess of dark hair. “You want some company?”

Oh.

He gives Dabi a disbelieving look and Dabi smirks back, as if challenging him. You’re blissfully unaware of the silent battle going on between them, a content smile crossing your face as you watch the sky changing colours, turning darker. “That’d be nice,” you nod, glancing back at them and then back over the city. “A late night chat is always nice.”

“I’ll keep you company,” Spinner says quickly, not willing to let Dabi continue his meddling any longer. You turn to him quickly with a smile he swears looks relieved, nodding your head. “Come on, y/n,” he takes your hand, soldiering through his nerves and moving back towards the window with you in tow. You go with him happily, turning back and giving Dabi a small wave. He simply nods in your and Spinner’s direction, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the dark the last you see of him before climbing through the window. You don’t bother speaking as you take the lead, pulling Spinner through the darkened hallways of the apartment complex and to your room. It takes a few minutes to find the room you’ve claimed as your own but when you do you beam back at him, pushing the door open and quickly shutting it behind the pair of you.

Alone in your room with you, Spinner instantly feels a bit nervous again. He hesitates a moment, but follows as you pull him over to the creaky, understuffed bed in the corner. You’d patted the dust off of some sheets earlier and thrown them over the mattress to act as a temporary bed while the League stays here. Climbing up to the head of the bed you put a hand out, motioning for Spinner to join you.

“You- you want me to get in with you?”

“Where do you want to lie, on the floor?” Spinner laughs a little at your reply, but you can hear the nerves in it. You lean forward and take his hand again, and this time he moves forward with your encouragement. There’s a moment of shuffling as he works his boots off and then squeezes onto the mattress with you. Getting comfortable takes a moment too, both of you working out where to put your limbs and how close to lie to each other. In the end your faces are mere inches apart, lying on your sides with your head pillowed on Spinner’s arm. “You should take your mask off, get comfortable.”

“I thought you wanted to chat,” he replies half-jokingly, shutting his eyes but not objecting as you slip his mask up and away from his eyes. Instantly you run your hand through his lilac hair, giggling at the way he inadvertently relaxes into your touch. The pair of you lapse into comfortable silence, listening to the far off buzz of city noise and the odd groan and creak from the apartment complex.

“...I’m sorry if I freaked you out, earlier. I guess I came on a little strong,” Spinner looks surprised by your words, tilting his head as you glance away from him. A faint blush rises on your cheeks and he blinks, realization hitting him like a train.

“Oh- Y/n, you didn’t freak me out. Well, no. I was freaked out but not because of you, I just…” he sighs, trailing off as he looks for the right words. “...I just don’t know what I’m doing, with any of this. And everyone was there. I just-” You cut him off by laying your fingertips over his lips lightly, surprise and hope in your eyes.

“So… you didn’t mind me flirting?” You can’t even contain the smile that stretches your lips, fingers moving from his mouth along the line of his jaw, entranced by the bump of scales beneath your fingertips. “You liked it?”

Spinner almost laughs, unsure whether he should be shaking his head or nodding. “No! I mean- yes, yes I liked it. No I didn’t min-” You kiss him, closing the gap between you both and cutting off his words before he can get lost in his thoughts again. You like Spinner. You’ve liked him since you joined the League and to think he liked you too is such a relief. You just can’t help yourself, your hands curling over his strong shoulders as if he might disappear again and leave you alone. He has no intention of going anywhere, though, his hand that isn’t trapped beneath your body moving to hold you by the waist. The way he kisses you back is shy, and when you pull back you’re both blinking slowly, a curious smile pulling up one corner of your lips.

“Was that your first kiss Spinner?” Redness creeps over his green skin at your question. He clears his throat, choosing instead to pose his own question instead of answering you.

“Shuichi is alright with me, if you want?”

Your heart feels incredibly warm as you nod, pulling him in by his shoulders and kissing him again. “Okay, Shuichi,” you beam, giddy and delighter as you press your face against his chest. The old, unfamiliar building has no chance of keeping you up now, not with Spinner’s strong arms linked around you.

You’ve never felt safer.

#spinner x reader #spinner fic #shuichi iguchi #spinner #spinner mha #bnha #mha #my hero academia #lov #league of villains #fanfic #x reader #cute #fluff #wholesome #first kiss #I LOVE SPINNER #guro writes #(yells)

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Note

Roller disco night in the club at the beach

Can you imagine the absolute ✨flair✨ hatter would use to announce and participate in this soon to be beloved event?

Would participation be mandatory?

Would militants still be scary on roller skates?

You’re the only one with the answers we’re all desperate to know

Roller Disco

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Chishiya Shuntaro, Niragi Suguru, Arisu Ryohei, Usagi Yuzuha, Kuina Hikari (Not named, but she's there briefly)

Genre: Fluff. Roller Disco, baby!

1.6k words

I have done it! I have made the rollerskating thing a thing! I tried my best to make it as fun as possible, and even if legally you can't build a whole rink in a few days or so, this is fiction and time is a construct! I am a Time Snipper! Hehe! >:3c!

Anyways I do hope you have fun reading this. :D

Being the higher ranking members to the Beach, the sole place that had a constant source of food, water, drugs, and electricity, they got the special privilege of having to deal with Hatter a whole lot more than anyone else in the Beach.

Sometimes that meant they were dragged into his silly schemes that Hatter would concoct on a sheer whim, out of boredom and the rule that stated they were allowed to do whatever they want whenever they want. It’s led to strange ideas and occurrences, but usually they were harmless.

Today was similar, Hatter rounding up the executives and militants to the meeting room, as well as Arisu and Usagi. The latter weren’t high ranking at all, left around the 40s in the ranks, but Hatter seemed to enjoy them nonetheless.

Everyone takes their usual seat around the table, save for Last Boss continuing to stand despite the perfectly normal seat, which was taken by Arisu instead. Usagi stood nearby him, everyones attention on the leader to this entire organization. Hatter grins at them, visually brimming with excitement and a new idea that he just had to get out to his inner circle, standing up and scanning everyones expression. It ranged from faces of neutrality, boredom, and slight interest from a few, nobody matching the sheer excitement that Hatter was holding in.

After a few moments of silence, Aguni speaks up, hands folded in his lap and eyes staring straight through Hatter’s favourite sunglasses. “ Mind telling us what this is about?” His voice was tired but inquisitive, Hatter grinning and straightening to his full height, holding his arms out like he was the next coming of a flying squirrel.

“ Yes, yes! Well, I have decided that we, as Beach members, should be allowed to have access to even more fun than ever before, and I hear one of the rooms here is perfectly empty and ready to be used as something that not every place has ever seen before! People here are allowed to do whatever, yes? But there is only so much you can do here without getting bored from the usual sights, so I thought of a brilliant idea!”

“ And that is….?” Aguni’s eyebrow raises up a little, overall not knowing where he was getting at. Hatter just continues to imitate a lowercase T while emitting his usual cheerful chaotic energy.

“ We’re gonna open up roller disco!”

There was several minutes of stunned silence, everyone looking straight at the still eager tomato waterfall, Chishiya’s lip quirking in a half-amused half-mocking smile. Niragi just squints at Hatter, a look of confusion clea on his face. The others were mostly just stunned to the point where their expressions didn’t really change much, give or take minute amounts of confusion.

“ Roller….. disco.” Aguni echoes, flabbergasted. “ You want roller disco." “ Yes! Yes! It’ll be a blast for the Beach! It’ll give them some extra steam to burn off, and it’ll be fun for everyone! Who doesn’t love a good disco?” “ Who likes dancing to disco nowadays? That’s fucking boring.” Niragi pipes up, his lips curled into a mocking sneer. He scoffs, leaning back in his seat. “ And think about it, not everyone would know how to roller-skate and not look like a fucking fool. Hell, I bet the cracked egg over there doesn’t know.” He snorts, glancing at Chishiya, who ignores his glare and keeps his attention on anything else of interest to him. “ Bet you’ll just eat shit and knock yourself out on the rink.” He imitates a person with a hand, crashing it into the table with an exaggerated noise from his mouth, ending it with his tongue sticking out and a bark of a laugh.

Chishiya glances at him, eyes flicking from his face down and back up again in a smooth manner, and his lips curl again, Niragi glaring at him. “ Perhaps it’ll be your fate too~” He chimes, Niragi narrowing his eyes at the smug vanilla eclair. Aguni has to wave him down before Niragi had the chance to leap over the table to strangle Chishiya, or even pick up his gun off the table and threaten Chishiya any more.

Hatter hums at the rebuttal anyways, taking it into consideration. “ Well, then they’ll just have to suck it up and learn if they want to roll with us! The more the merrier that loves roller disco the better! Say, who thinks this is a great idea!” He raises his hand in favour, and the others quickly discuss among themselves, Hatter still vibrating with sheer joy and the thought of going rollerskating with everyone and seeing how many people make a fool of themselves so he can talk about it later in his chambers.

Eventually, a few of them raise their hands in favour, taking the majority of the total group, Hatter’s lips stretching even wider as they agreed with him.

It takes a few days before the rink was ready, a few of them having to go around and look for people with any skill in architecture and craftsmanship to eventually renovate some old rooms into a large, functional rollerskating rink. It took a little bit, but eventually the rink was approved to be skated on. Hatter even took the time to make sure the aesthetics were perfect, setting up a real disco ball in the center and painting parts of the room with fluorescent paint and arming black lights everywhere.

Then came the announcement. It was during his usual game announcements, Hatter standing over the hundreds of Beach members with a proud grin. “ Hello everyone! I know we are all excited to go out and collect cards so that we may soon get out of the Borderlands as quickly as we can, but we have a very special announcement to make before I send you all on your ways to do your best in returning the cards!” Hatter throws his hands out to the crowd, a handful of confetti flying out of his hands, soon accompanied by Kuzuryuu and Aguni setting off the confetti cannons they had in their hands at the same time, raining confetti throughout the awed crowd.

“ Now, as people may have rumoured throughout our beloved Beach, there has been a special surprise coming to everyone for a while, down in the east wing! It’s been many days, many hours of long hard work done by a group of our hardworking people, but we have finally done it! As a gift to all of us, in celebration of still fighting onwards, I, Hatter, am proud to announce that we have built a rollerskating rink for everyone to enjoy at all hours of your time! And what’s more, it’s not just regular rollerskating, but the most greatest version of all: Roller Disco!” Hatter raises his arms out with a grin, people by instinct cheering him on and applauding, many getting excited off of one another and from the thought of a new place to hang out and play. Hatter looks down among his people, giddy from being able to reveal his newest thought baby, and starts his usual encouragement to the Beach about the games and collecting their cards, sending them into a positive uproar of pride and joy before everyone filed out the doors to their possible deaths.

By the time Hatter was back, having gone to a game with his good pal Aguni, people were already flooding the room for the new rink, people skating around in circles and having a good time. It settled a warm spot in Hatter’s heart, the man running off to snatch a pair for himself to try it. In the frenzy he lost Aguni for a bit, but when he comes back out in bright white skates with orange tips and black laces, he sees Aguni already on the rink slowly making his way around by himself. Hatter doesn’t hesitate to get inside and catch up to him, grinning at his long time friend. “ Having fun?” Hatter chirps through the disco music blasting through the speakers, Aguni slowly nodding as he gets comfortable and speed up, people trying their best to skate out of the way from Aguni skating past them with a rather concentrated expression. It only made Hatter laugh, watching Aguni scare off the more frightened skaters by sheer appearance. Hatter knew Aguni never means to, he just was a more serious guy and wanted to concentrate on not eating ass in the rink.

Hatter pauses, laughing to himself. He supposes there’s nothing wrong with that~

A bit later he spots a few of his cherished other high ranked members make their way onto the scene, a few missing from either him missing them entirely or not wanting to skate at all.

Among them was Niragi and Chishiya, of course, Hatter unable to hear the taller charred rock through the music, but still getting the feeling it was one of challenge. The smaller rock of the two apparently accepted as they speed off, trying to out-skate the other. From what Hatter got to see, Niragi was quite literally pushing everyone aside in his race around the rink in order to get past, Chishiya preferring the route of dodging and even disappearing straight form Hatter’s higher vantage point before reappearing meters away from where he was last seen. It was actually impressive.

That woman that Chishiya was always with was there as well, helping a very confused Beach member on the rink as they stumbled like a wee fawn with their proud and stable mother. Something like that, at least. Hatter chuckles, still cruising along as disco pounded in his ears and people laughed around him, some tumbling and others gliding as if one air. Hell, he might’ve even seen someone with bright pink Hello Kitty skates reading a book while they skated, which was fucking magnificent.

Yeah, he wasn’t regretting this idea at all.

Even when he sees poor Arisu immediately skate straight into a wall at hyperspeeds and flip over the wall while Usagi skates after him.

Yep, no regrets.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #hatter #takeru danma #morizono aguni #niragi suguru #chishiya shuntaro #arisu ryohei #usagi yuzuha #kuina hikari #look at them go!! nyooming around!#hatter can say anything he wants and somehow he gets it done :D #who won the race? that's for you to decide :)#yes hatter's rollerskates are duck shaped what of it-#everything is so shiny yet dark in there and soooooo loud #remember to brace yourself when going in :3 #the laws of building no longer applies to me this rink is perfectly safe i swear-

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Danger: Obsidian |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.5k

Lesson 4: sometimes, it is not your duty or even your right to render judgment. Stepping back does not always constitute cowardice.

Previous: Amethyst >> Obsidian: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Ruby

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Send a dm or an ask to be added to the taglist! ]

Two nights later, Juyeon steps up to the shrine. Kevin walks softly next to him, while Jacob trails behind slightly, wrapped in his red cloak.

It’s unsettling, the mask that’s settled over the mage’s face since the day Hwanwoong told them his story. Juyeon is used to a smiling Jacob, one whose eyes remain gentle no matter how difficult the situation.

This is something he can’t understand fully, though. Juyeon isn’t a mage, doesn’t have the gift of magic running through his blood. Even though he knows it’s disgraceful, he’ll probably never truly comprehend just how much of a disgrace it is for a mage of such high rank to use his magic flame for something as sacrilegious as this.

All the more reason to hunt him down, though.

Juyeon presses a hand to the white stone door, listens for any hint of movement inside. He hears nothing. Raising a fist, he knocks lightly in the pattern Hwanwoong established with him two nights ago.

The door slides open with the barest creak. Kevin stiffens next to him, but Juyeon doesn’t hesitate. He enters the shrine.

White stone glows faintly in the pale moonlight filtering through the windows. Four figures stand in the shadows as Juyeon steps forward and he nearly draws the sword at his side, but then Hwanwoong steps under the light and he relaxes. “Let’s go,” he whispers.

With every turn, Juyeon expects someone to jump out, a guard or a soldier or something, but as Hwanwoong said, there’s no one here besides them and High Mage Jung. The mage lets them walk around and generally act like they aren’t prisoners, which shows some modicum of guilt on his end, but the closed-off look on the boy’s face doesn’t make it seem like it matters much.

If Juyeon had to live under the mage who did nothing to prevent the murder of two of his best friends, though, he wouldn’t think it mattered much either. He wouldn’t want to live as a prisoner under Mage Han, after all, even if it meant a cushier life.

Mage Han. Juyeon’s stomach twists. Will he have to kill Mage Jung, too?

Someone walks past Juyeon, one of the other mages in training that Hwanwoong mentioned. They haven’t exactly had introductions, but Juyeon’s heart clenches at the grief etched into every feature of the boy’s face. He looks young, even younger than Hwanwoong.

His resolve hardens as his pace quickens. Juyeon will kill the high mage if it comes to it. He’ll do it, even if he doesn’t want to, even if Mage Jung will join the cast of his nightmares, if it provides even a semblance of justice for these mages.

They didn’t deserve any of this.

Hwanwoong comes to a stop at a wall. There’s nothing on it, though, and Juyeon furrows his eyebrows just as one of the other mages steps forward. Shaking one arm out of a thin robe, he presses a hand to the stone, then draws a rectangle on the white wall. A door materializes the same way Taemin conjured the one that took him and Kevin to Castia.

Spatial manipulation, like Jacob. He must be Seoho, the mage who’s already finished his training.

They step into a dark room with no windows. The only source of light comes from a few torches around the walls and a white hot flame on a small pyre in the middle of the room, burning with seemingly no fuel to keep it alive.

Jacob’s breath catches behind Juyeon. “Castling queens.”

“You know how to put it out?” Kevin asks, looking cautiously at the fire.

“Yes.” Seoho nods. “One of the first things a mage learns is to douse our own flames in case of an accident. It will be much harder and take much more energy and magic to put out the fire of another mage, though, especially one as powerful as… his.”

The air shifts as Jacob steps forward. “He’ll feel the fire beginning to die,” he warns, staring into the bright flame. He glances over at Juyeon and Kevin. “You two need to be ready.”

Juyeon nods. “We will be.”

“Come, then.” Jacob walks closer to the pyre, the light casting strange shadows on his face. His gaze softens slightly as he looks at the other mages, all younger than him and looking terrified, despite the determination in their eyes. “This is our chance.”

Five mages form a circle around a pyre of white flame. Juyeon stands guard, Kevin resolutely at his side, as they bow their heads, extend their hands…

And the fire begins to flicker.

. . . . .

Dousing a mage’s flame is like cutting threads. Thick threads that require a lot of sawing, but threads nonetheless. The more powerful the mage, the thicker the thread.

Which means that the threads of this fire requires a lot of power to cut.

The heat of the fire scorches Jacob’s face as he stares into the white-hot flames that have only just begun to flicker at the tops. Out of his peripherals he can see Hwanwoong and Seoho squinting with equal concentration.

Five mages, two fully trained and three still students. It’s almost hopeless, almost, but Jacob refuses to think of the possibility of failure right now, not when the first thread is so close to snapping.

Though the second it goes, High Mage Jung will know they’re here.

Pressure builds in Jacob’s hands. Sweat pours into his eyes. Every ounce of magic in his blood flows to his open palms, shimmering into the air in streams thinner than a strand of hair, wrapping around the fire, choking away bits of flame –

Something gives. Jacob nearly stumbles as the first thread snaps. The burning pyre turns a shade darker, pale orange instead of white.

Jacob senses Mage Jung’s presence before he even enters the room. He starts to shout, to warn Juyeon and Kevin, but heat scorches the inside of his mouth and he chokes instead.

The door bursts open and yells fill the air as Juyeon literally goes flying into the far wall, hitting the stone with a sickening crunch that Jacob can hear even above the dull roar in his ears. Kevin shouts and there’s a faint whistling of a knife, but it ends with a clanging sound that doesn’t sound like a blade hitting flesh and Jacob knows his cousin missed.

Focus.

More magic streams out of his hands, mixing with the tendrils pouring out of the other four mages next to him. Jacob grits his teeth, pushing the magic out stronger, faster, ignoring the boiling underneath his skin that warns of possible overload and depletion of his gift.

A flash at the corner of his eye. Jacob ducks just in time, hands still thrust towards the fire. Mage Jung sweeps next to him, a ball of water splashing onto the floor.

Water manipulation. It never looks powerful at first, but water can be used to do many things.

Like the sharp-bladed icicles slicing towards Keonhee.

Wide eyes stare at the ice hurtling through the air. One hand rises in a futile attempt at protection. Jacob feels a scream begin to build in his throat –

A gust of air blows his hair back and sends the icicles shattering uselessly against the ground.

Jacob glances at Dongju. His right hand, previously swept in Keonhee’s direction, has returned to the fire. Fury glitters in his expression as he squints harder, palms outstretched, larger bursts of magic pouring from his skin.

Another thread snaps. The flames grow smaller, darker.

Juyeon’s gotten up from the floor. Jacob hears the slash of a sword, muffled in his mind. Shattering sounds behind him, ice clattering to the floor and piercing his ankles but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move from his position as his magic curls around the tendrils of fire, choking them, dissipating them into the air.

Kevin lets out a banshee yell and the sickening sound of blades sinking into flesh almost makes Jacob lose his balance. A hand steadies him – Seoho – before returning to the pyre.

Another snap, one that nearly sinks Jacob to his knees. As they get closer and closer to the heart of the flame, the magic only grows harder to dissipate. But even as the thrum in his own veins begins to fade, as his skin radiates heat comparable to the dying flame, he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop.

Dongju falls, collapses to the ground in front of the pyre like a worshipper enthralled. The circle shifts, spreading further apart to protect his prone body, to fill his space. But Keonhee’s face turns paler and paler until an ice blade through the shoulder knocks him to the ground just as another thread snaps.

Red, almost black, flickers on the pyre. Jacob gasps, blinks sweat out of his eyes. He ducks with the prickling of his neck but a sharp piece of ice cuts through the clothes on his back anyway and sticky blood begins to seep down his skin. Next to him, Seoho almost looks up, but Jacob grits his teeth and forces the last of his magic into the air.

The last of Hwanwoong’s magic disappears and Juyeon almost steps on him before whirling out of the way. Kevin flies at Mage Jung out of the corner of Jacob’s eye but he can’t see what happens next, can’t pick out who let out that pained grunt and who’s the one with blood running down their skin because it’s just him and Seoho now, the only two trained mages in this room besides the traitor.

Their eyes meet across the pyre. They’re completely opposite now, the unconscious bodies of the three students filling the space between them. Seoho looks as white as snow and he could collapse any moment but then he looks down, sees his friends, his brothers lying on the floor, and his face twists once more with determination.

Pressure builds behind Jacob’s hands, blood boiling and threatening to burst from his skin. A last burst of magic coils with Seoho’s and crashes into the final flickering flame –

The pyre goes black.

A pained gasp leaves someone’s throat. Belatedly, Jacob realizes it was him.

Kevin grabs Jacob’s arm before he collapses but immediately pulls away, hissing. He looks down, confused at the reaction, but remembers – his flesh must be a brilliant red, overheated with how much magic he just used.

On the other side of the pyre, barely visible in the absence of light, Seoho kneels on the floor, crawling toward Dongju’s prone body. His hands move quickly, checking for a pulse on the young boy’s neck. Jacob breathes a sigh of relief when no wail of pain comes. Just magic overuse. No death.

Ice crashes to the floor, sparkling bits beginning to melt over the stone. Jacob turns to see the shadow of High Mage Jung, visible in the light of the torches that somehow never fell, sink to his knees.

Juyeon steps forward, walks past Jacob and approaches the pyre. His hand reaches out, picks a small black jewel off of the white stone. “Is it real?” he asks, holding out the gem.

It isn’t difficult to feel the magic radiating off the shiny surface, even in his exhausted state. Jacob nods sharply as anger boils in his stomach. A mage’s fire, used to hide a stolen jewel…

Juyeon steps forward, gripping the black stone in his fist. “High Mage Jung.” He spits the words like poison on his lips. “We have much to speak about.”

. . . . .

Just glancing at Mage Jung’s defeated face makes Juyeon want to look away immediately. Even though he wasn’t a mage, never learned from his magical teachings, he still used to admire his character. The high mage is a shell of what he once was, disgusting to look at, unbearable to listen to. Every single part of Juyeon’s body wants to scream and run away the moment he meets Mage Jung’s eyes, but he forces himself to stay put.

The jewel digs uncomfortably into his palm, he’s clutching it so hard. In his other hand, he clenches his sword, the blade stained with the mage’s blood.

This is not the mage, the honorable man he used to know. This is a mage who broke several of the most important tenets of magic. This is a mage who betrayed the Order of the two kingdoms.

This is the man who killed a gray mage and a queen.

This is the man who killed Juyeon’s best friend.

“How did you become a mage,” Juyeon asks, voice carrying in the silence, “if you are this weak?”

“You don’t understand,” Mage Jung starts. His eyes plead with his, but Juyeon shows no emotion, just a stone cold countenance. “You don’t know –”

The sword flashes, a silver streak against the faint firelight, coming to a rest at the side of the mage’s neck. “You killed Changmin, the last of the gray mages, and the former Ivory queen,” Juyeon says, voice deathly calm. “Give me a single reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

“You are young,” the mage pleads. “I had a wife, two daughters. The queen killed my wife when I first refused to comply, then held my daughters until I agreed the second time. How could you understand?”

Kevin gasps. Juyeon himself feels a pang of sympathy at the mage’s words – he met his wife before, and she was a good woman – but then Jacob steps forward.

The rage on his face reminds Juyeon once again of how much this man did.

“You taught me of duty,” Jacob says. His words carry through the shrine, sending a shiver down Juyeon’s back. “You taught me of responsibility and sacrifice. You taught me to value the balance of the Board above all else, above even love, the truest love. Kill your darlings, no?”

“You wouldn’t know –”

“Don’t try to tell me I wouldn’t know.”

The emotion, rage mixed with desperation and terror, startles Juyeon. His blade shifts slightly, digging deeper into the mage’s skin. This is a far cry from the Jacob he once knew, the Jacob who, no matter what, spoke softly and smiled widely and never, ever spoke back to a mentor.

But Jacob had a Valkyrie, a knight whom he loved with his entire heart. Juyeon’s own face heats with fury, fury that this high mage would dare presume that Jacob knows nothing of love, when his heart was been full of it for so long.

“I loved a knight,” Jacob continues, “a Valkyrie with the purest soul. This was the knight who came to save me from your cowardly clutches. You do remember telling me the stories of how you knew you loved your wife when you were fifteen, yes?” His lips curl into a snarl. “I think, then, I should be perfectly able to know my love at age twenty.”

The room is silent in the wake of Jacob’s silent rage. Though the fire has long been put out, invisible flames seem to rise from the mage’s skin, scalding the air that Juyeon breathes. Yet no one says a word, even as the unconscious students begin to shift on the ground.

“Do you know who I left behind at the ivory palace you helped imprison me in?” Jacob asks. His voice is soft, now, as soft as it’s always been, but an edge sharper than Juyeon’s sword glints in his tone. “I left behind my knight. I left behind my Valkyrie. I left my Valkyrie behind at the Ivory palace because they understood their duty and I understood mine.”

Juyeon may be the one physically holding the blade to Mage Jung’s neck, but it feels like Jacob holds the power to let that blade slice against soft skin, spilling blood over the white stone floor.

From the way the mage’s fists are clenched, Juyeon doesn’t think Jacob would think too much if that happened.

“I don’t know if they’re dead or alive,” Jacob continues, relentless. “I don’t know what happened to any of the Valkyries, if they’re sitting in the dungeons under the palace or lying in a pile of bodies, unburnt by a mage’s fire, soul unreleased and restless – a fire that you decided to desecrate, might I add.” Jacob snarls. Everyone in the room flinches.

A dribble of blood drips down Mage Jung’s skin as he shudders, the blade digging even further than before.

“I may have killed them by leaving them behind, and I wouldn’t know.” Heat really is rising from Jacob’s skin now, any remaining magic boiling in his blood as it tries to escape its constraints. “All because of the Ivory Queen’s reckless visions of war, visions that you have helped her realize.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Juyeon sees Kevin put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. Jacob relaxes slightly at the touch, the air growing slightly cooler, but he’s still rigid, body tensed to spring as he speaks his last words to a high mage who can no longer even look his former disciple in the eye.

“I may not know the pain of having your own child held over your head.” Jacob’s fists release themselves as he takes a deep breath. “I imagine it is unfathomable. But do not, not for one single second, tell me I don’t know the pain of choosing between love and duty. Because I know it. I know it very well, High Mage.” Jacob spits the last words to the floor, crushes the title he used to look up to with his boot as he glares at the weakened man still kneeling on the floor.

Silence reigns. Not a single person, not even the two young mages who have just woken up, dare to speak.

High Mage Jung ducks his head even further, almost slumping against Juyeon’s sword. “You can kill me,” he rasps, closing his eyes. “I deserve it, as Jacob –” Jacob flinches at the sound of his name – “said. Please.”

The blade trembles. Juyeon could kill the mage and end it all, he knows. He’s already killed Mage Han. He could just as easily kill Mage Jung, especially when he’s asking for it.

But something stays Juyeon’s hand, prevents him from making the cut that will end his life. Perhaps it’s because of the mage’s daughters, who don’t deserve to have yet another parent ripped away. Or maybe he just feels like he can’t kill another person, much less a mage – how badly will that reflect on him if he ever gains his crown?

Even more than that, though, it isn’t his choice. Juyeon isn’t the one who was betrayed the most in this room. That title belongs to the five mages in this room, one of whom is still unconscious because of High Mage Jung’s decisions.

“It isn’t my decision to make.” Juyeon utters his words with certainty, keeping the blade at the mage’s neck. “Jacob, Seoho, all of the other mages you betrayed deserve to decide. I wasn’t the one who was hurt the most here.”

Jacob nods curtly before turning to Seoho. They kneel down beside the two younger mages who have woken up and begin to speak quietly.

Kevin stands next to Juyeon, refusing to look at the broken man who kneels in front of them. Juyeon swallows. Kevin watched him kill Mage Han, saw him live with that decision for all the weeks to come. He hurt Bom too – he knows what it’s like to be faced with a decision like this.

“Did I make the right choice?” Juyeon murmurs. “Or am I just a coward, pawning off the decision to someone else?”

A pause, then a shake of the head. “No, you made the right decision.” Kevin shakes his head again. “This wasn’t your battle, mainly. It was theirs. Like you said, they were hurt the most. Choosing wouldn’t have been right, coming from you.” He smiles slightly, and Juyeon takes comfort in the warmth on his best friend’s face. “It isn’t cowardly to not want to kill someone, by the way. Just as it isn’t cowardly to step back from a decision that isn’t yours.”

Juyeon’s own lips curl into a tiny smile. “Thanks, Kevin.”

Kevin just smiles back. Shoulder to shoulder, they stand before the mage until Jacob stands up, face grim but not displeased. “Let him live.”

High Mage Jung’s head snaps up. “What?”

Juyeon’s own eyebrows raise, but he can’t deny the relief that rushes through his chest as he withdraws the sword. “As you wish.”

“But – why?” The mage’s gaze fills with guilt and anguish, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I’ve violated –”

“You have two daughters.” Seoho steps forward, skin still pale with exhaustion, but determination in every step. “As much as you deserve to suffer, they still need you.”

“I –”

“You will lie,” Jacob interrupts. “You will lie and say that we came at night, taking the jewel with the help of the imprisoned mages who also happened to escape. When you woke up, it was gone.” He looks down, coldly. “And if the queen asks you how we were able to overpower you, you may tell her that you suspect a mage travels with the prince and the amethyst heir.” His lips curl into a dangerous smile. “If you so wish, you might even tell her this mage escaped from her own dungeons.”

The high mage gasps, collapsing even further onto the ground. “Thank you, thank you so much –”

“Save it,” Dongju snarls. “We don’t want your thanks. You watched and did nothing as Youngjo and the others were killed, and now we find out that you were one of the two who killed the gray mage?” He scoffs.

“Dongju.” Hwanwoong seems to have woken up since the mages began speaking, and he puts a hand on the boy’s arm. He relaxes, but the glare in his eyes doesn’t subside.

Jacob looks a lot like he agrees with Dongju, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Seoho steps up. “It is only fair that you stand trial after the war for your crimes. A jury of your peers will judge you, with His Majesty presiding.” He looks at Juyeon. “They will decide if you are ultimately worthy of death, or if your magic will simply be stripped instead.”

Mage Jung sags, but he nods resignedly. Juyeon nods as well. “I agree to this. Do not try to hide – we will find you. There cannot be no consequences for your actions.”

“I understand.” The mage swallows, and for the first time, dares to look up. “I also understand that you cannot accept my thanks in words. However, I have information that may help your jewel hunt, if you will hear it.”

Juyeon exchanges a glance with Kevin, then Jacob. Both of them look equally apprehensive, but eventually, they nod, slightly. He turns back to the mage. “Tell us.”

“The Ivory Queen let it slip that one of the jewels will be taken to another shrine, one of the holiest in the two kingdoms.” Mage Jung swallows. “Few have the privilege of stepping onto its grounds. I myself have forfeited mine.”

Juyeon understands at the same moment Jacob does, their eyes widening with realization together.

Kevin gasps a second later. “You don’t mean –”

“He means the shrine where Changmin was killed.” Juyeon clenches his fists hard, the jewel cutting into his skin. “She would dare…”

Jacob steps forward. “If you turn out to be lying, I will not hesitate to kill you the next time I see you.”

A long pause follows his statement, but no one protests.

Juyeon nods sharply. “We will leave. Do not follow us. If a single word is breathed to the queen on our whereabouts, we will know that you betrayed us yet again.” He snarls. “And next time, you won’t be able to count on any mercy should we find you once more.”

Even with that statement, Juyeon doesn’t lower his guard until Seoho has created the door to shift them out of the room. He barely breathes until they’ve made it far from the shrine back to their hideout at the edge of the forest. Once they’re among the trees, he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Six pairs of eyes blink at him, four more than he’s grown used to. Juyeon swallows. “I don’t know if you four can come with us,” he says carefully.

Hwanwoong nods, thankfully. None of the others look very surprised either. “We know,” he says. “We never expected it, with you looking for the jewels and all.”

Juyeon hangs his head. “Still, I’m sorry. I can’t provide safety for you, even as your prince…”

Kevin knocks him in the shoulder. “No one’s safe in a time of war, idiot.”

A tiny smile quirks the side of his lips. “That’s true. However.” He straightens. “Do you know the name Lee Sangyeon?”

Dongju’s head jerks up. “One of your rooks?”

Juyeon nods. “Try to reach the Onyx Kingdom. You’ll be safer there, especially if you can reach a domain unoccupied by ivory forces. I don’t know how far they’ve managed to conquer –” he frowns – “but once you have the energy, shift into the capital. Find Sangyeon and tell him that the crown prince sent you. You can stay there. If something happens, though, just stay out of reach of ivory forces.”

“One more thing.” Kevin rummages around in the bag that holds their things and produces a shirt, one of those he brought when they first started out. “They might not believe you if you just say that we sent you, but if you show them this, they’ll know you at least saw us along the way.”

Hwanwoong takes the shirt, folds it and tucks it into his robes. “Thank you.”

“Wait, Kevin.” Jacob steps forward. “Give me your knife.”

Confused, Juyeon watches as he takes the blade, then hacks off a section of his red cloak. “Seoho, your specialization is the same as mine?”

A nod. Jacob hands over the section of cloth. “There is a spell embedded in my cloak to mask my magic, one that I think you can untangle. Once you do, weave it into your own clothes. It will help you stay hidden from other the magic of others.”

Three pairs of eyes stare into four. Then Hwanwoong kneels, followed by Seoho, then Dongju, then the last, who must be Keonhee.

Juyeon takes a step back. “What –”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Seoho bows his head. “We look forward to the day you become our king.”

Queens.

Oh, queens.

Juyeon’s throat chokes. “Please, don’t kneel,” he says, helping them up while trying to hide the tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “I’m honored to have you as my allies. Truly.”

“As we are honored to be yours.” Hwanwoong smiles. “Good luck, Your Highness.”

A tentative smile curves Juyeon’s lips. “Good luck to you too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for oneus to get back safely!!)

37 notes · View notes

moonlightsolo · 3 years

Text

Drunken Pursuit

pairing: the mandalorian x reader (kind of platonic, kind of not)

warnings: angst and MORE ANGST also numerous drops of the f bomb

wc: 2.6k

a/n: hope ya like it cuz i do ;)

The familiar robust stench wafts into your face once you open the door to the cantina you’ve grown so fond of— Stale liquor, cheap cologne and sweaty bodies.

As you slyly stalk around the bar in the middle of the room, your eyes roam the countless people drinking inside. You’re not sure if you’re looking for a particular person or an empty seat to slide into.

When a large horned humanoid stumbles away from the bar with the stench of alcohol on its body, you slip your way into the now free spot.

Your pants stick to the tacky leather stool as a bartender slides around to take your order, “One blood sour and two shots of mijura.” You slide the memorized amount of credits to the bartender and the droid begins to shake up your drinks.

It’s become a routine for you to visit this hole-in-the-wall at late hours of the night, but since you’ve finished catching your bounties for the day, you’ve decided to take a break in the daylight.

You down your drinks quicker than anyone around you, the alcohol buzzes through your veins almost instantly and clouds the nerve-endings throughout your body splendidly.

Soon you’re blindly shoving credits over the bar, the people around you buy you drinks as you do the same for them. The usually annoyingly loud music you can’t understand begins to sound like the best beat to dance to. “Come on!”

You decide to grip your neighbors wrists to pull them onto your the makeshift dance floor. You can’t help but sway your hips as your feet somehow expertly tap to the beat.

A huge obvious smile is plastered on your face as one of your new friends, grabs your hands to spin your bodies in circles playfully.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel confidence like no other. Shot after shot and song after song. Your stomach begins to turn and flutter uncomfortably. This is how your night usually ends.

As quickly as possible, you tug your hands away from person in front you to sprint to the bathroom. The handle jiggles but doesn’t open. Fuck, it’s locked. Someone behind the door squeals obscenities in a language you don’t understand.

The floor is your only option. Your back curls as you hunch over with your hands on your knees. Your abdomen tightens as the burning contents hurl from your stomach onto the already messy floor. You’ll have to leave a big tip.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, sniffling as you attempt to calm the tears and snot flowing down your face. “Disgusting.” You mutter to yourself.

As you hobble into the main area, you slap the rest of your pocket money onto the bar and head outside. Unfortunately it’s still quite bright outside, causing your body to seize from the sensitivity of your eyes. You blindly reach for the surface of the dome shaped exterior wall, running your fingers over the rough texture blindly.

You lean your back against the wall as the cool wind whips against your skin, calming you slightly. As you take long deep breaths and listen to the ships fly overhead, you feel a slight tug on the hem of your cargo pants.

Is your brain hallucinating now? It’s just the wind, you tell yourself.

The sensation happens once again so you gently slide your hand toward your blaster on your hip before you snap your head toward your feet. The grip on the stock of your gun loosens when you see the odd child-like creature cooing at you with their exceedingly large eyes.

It’s green and adorably fuzzy with large ears. The child is wrapped in brown fabric with a little tint of pink covering it’s cheeks and teeny nose. You notice a little black bowl sitting in it’s free hand full of some sort of liquid.

“Oh hello.” You giggle as it’s tiny arms reach up for you, now the soup is spilled onto the ground. Of course, you can’t decline the cute offer of holding such a delicate species.

Your arms swoop down to carefully pick up the baby, surprisingly heavier than you thought it would be. You can’t take your eyes off of it, a smile grows on your face as it giggles at you.

You bounce the thing on your hip like a baby, it seems to enjoy it from the coos of awe muttered at you. “Wheres your mom or dad, hm?” You tickle the child’s belly causing a small laugh to escape from their body.

Suddenly, a shadow covers the sun above as it looms over your smaller frame. Nervousness bubbles in your chest for a moment, then your motherly instinct kicks in as you hold the kid tighter to your chest.

As your eyes slowly rake up the expanse of the person in front of you— The shiny silver armor, the hidden weapons in the steel plates upon their arms, and the helmet. The T shaped pitch black visor and the same matching Beskar surface.

A mandalorian.

You instantly recognize who it is, well what it is. Your blood runs cold as you back up against the wall as far as possible, wishing the barrier would envelope your body to aid in your escape.

“Give me the kid.” The Mandalorian speaks. His tone is menacing under the voice modulator, monotone and deep.

You gulp as the child looks between you and him and continues to stay cuddled to your chest. “Why should I?” Your voice slurs slightly and you hiccup.

The statue in front of you takes a step closer, cornering you into the wall. Your eyes dart around in attempt to find ways to flee. “Don’t.” He threatens as he’s even closer to you now.

You gulp as you stare up at your own warped reflection in his eyes, “What are you going to do with it? You’re a bounty hunter... like me. How do I know you’re not going to sell the poor kid off?” Your breathing shudders when his forearm comes to press against your chest, now pinning you. He is dangerously close to your neck and his face is much too close to yours.

“He is mine. Now hand him over.” Your arms outstretch as much as you could as you refuse to look at your own reflection in his helmet. He grips the baby protectively and brings him to his chest.

A soft relieved sigh crackles from the helmet. The green thing murmurs incoherently and settles against his armor as he tucks it into a sack resting on his hip.

The tall man turns toward you once more, angry and close in proximity. “Why were you holding him? Were you trying to take him?” His voice booms as one of his hands slam next to your head.

A few drunken idiots stumble from the entrance, talking gibberish and laughing. The Mandalorian swings his head to the side to stare intensely at them as they walk by.

When the pair notices the Beskar-cladded man hovering over your shuttering body, their mouths clamp shut, eyes avert to the ground and they speed walk away.

Stars! You need to be saved. Fucking assholes.

The bounty hunter in front of you turns his attention back to you, “I-I—I promise, I was—wasn’t trying to kidnap h-him...” Your voice stutters helplessly, the alcohol doesn’t help your brain as it already is working slowly.

He glances down at the alien child who is peeking over the rim of the bag nervously, “He gr-grabbed my pant leg. He was wandering... He was wandering... by himself. Why was he by himself?” You suddenly gain confidence as you question the man.

“You’re interrogating me when your kid was wandering around by himself?” You scoff as you cross your arms over your chest, “What a great dad. You want to protect him? Well you didn’t. I could have stolen him, but at least I’m not a crazy asshole, right?” You grumble as you mumble obscenities under your breath.

The man scoffs under his helmet as he leans backward from being close to you, his arms lifts from your body. “You’ve got a point.” He grumbles in defeat, one of his gloved hands rest on the bulging sack which the child is in.

“Exactly. Now if you’d let me go, I’d appreciate it.” You go to push yourself off of the wall but your knees buckle which causes you to fly forward.

Your forehead slams against his steel chest plate, making a loud bang echo from the contact. You groan as the pain radiates through your head, your vision goes blurry as if you were drinking once again.

You stumble backward to fall, your arms reach for something sturdy to rest against but two hands grip your shoulders to steady you. Your body is slowly leaned back onto the curved wall of the building.

A sound almost like a chuckle emits from the Mandalorian, “Ouch.” You mumble as your hand goes to your forehead to feel the bump already forming under your skin.

You open your scrunched eyes to see your fingertips are lightly covered in crimson, “Is-is that blood?” You gasp softly as the man brings his hands to your head to inspect the cut. He pushes your hair from your eyes and gently peels the strands off the wet surface of your skin.

“It’s small. Might need sutured.” He sighs as he looks down at the baby who is now curious of what just happened.

“I’m assuming your system is full of alcohol which makes your blood thinner.” He grumbles, “Come on. Follow me.”

Your vision is still slightly blurry, either from your new concussion or maybe your own tears. Follow a Mandalorian? Fuck no.

“Excuse me? Follow you? How...How am I...” A new wave of dizziness overcomes your body as you stumble forward and gulp down the bile rising in your throat, “Am... I supposed to... Follow you..?”

The silver armor fades in and out of your sight, his image is distorted as you sway from side to side.

The alcohol has finally gotten to your brain, it’s your time. You’re going to die. Hitting your head on Beskar (the strongest metal in the universe) and drinking yourself into oblivion is not a good combination. Especially mixed along with your blood on your hands, it’s not one of your strengths.

His arms reach out to you to hold you steady once again, he opens your drooping eyelids to look at your dilated pupils. “You’ve got a concussion.” He lets out a sniffle as he leans in to smell your breath, obviously smelling the liquor.

You fall forward in a slump, slamming your face against his Beskar once again. He stands there awkwardly with a random girl resting on his chest. His arms hook under your arms to drag you to the nearby alleyway. He carefully places you on the ground, sitting upright with your back against the wall.

He glances at your pockets, seeing a flashing red light through the tan fabric. He opts to fish whatever is is out. Finally gripping the disc shakes object, a tracking beacon.

“For the kid?” He mumbles with a sigh. He glances to see the blaster in your pocket.

He debates in his own head on whether or not he should leave you here or kill you. He grumbles frustratingly as the kid squeaks angrily in his pouch, “I know, I know.” He groans.

He drops the beacon to the ground then stomps on it to shatter it to pieces, the wiring sparks and with another stomp it puffs out. His hands reach down to scoop you up, throwing your drunk self over his shoulder before making his way back to the Razor Crest. He can’t help but think of how idiotic this idea is.

The stares of the passerby’s don’t make the Mandalorian nervous, rather more smug than anything. He knows his image is powerful.

Once aboard the ship, he drops you on his cot that he pulls out from the wall. He locks your limp wrists together with handcuffs so you don’t attempt to hurt anyone or escape the moving ship.

He scoops out the kid once in the cockpit, sitting him in his floating bassinet as he clicks a few buttons to ready the ship for departure. His hand grips the throttle to lift it into the sky.

The jolt startles you awake. A loud groan falls from your lips from the splitting headache. You roll around in the bed, not realizing it’s not your own which causes you to fall onto the floor.

As you attempt to catch yourself, you realize your arms are bound together. “The fuck?!” You yelp loudly as look at your surroundings. Terror runs through your veins when you realize you’ve been abducted.

The ship hits hyper speed, causing your body to roll like a hot dog across the floor. You let out a loud screech as you kick your feet wildly in front of you so you wouldn’t ram into the wall, “Let me go right now or I will rip you to shreds!”

The stomping above your head shuts you up as the person climbs down the ladder. The beskar cladded man makes you gulp with wide eyes.

“You?” You growl as you attempt to push yourself up from the ground but you’re unsuccessful.

“You’re awake.” He stands to the side with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you struggle.

You screech through your clenched teeth as your abdominal muscles fail to pick your body off the ground. “Let me go, you fucker. I’m serious.” Your face is flushing red with anger by the second.

He chuckles as he walks toward you, planting one foot on either side of your body now standing above you. “Feisty, hm?” He presses a button on his arm to unlock the cuffs around your wrists.

The metal hisses as it drops onto the floor next to you. You scramble to your feet, standing in front of the large man with an angry face. “You took me.” You poke your finger against his chest. Your nail makes a ‘ding’ sound against the metal.

“I did.” He hums simply as he stares down at you through the same black visor.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because, why?”

“You had a bounty for the kid.”

“So you put me on the same ship with the kid?”

“Yup.”

“You make absolutely no sense, Mandalorian.” You huff as you begin to pace the belly of the ship frantically as you talk to yourself under your breath. How will you get home? Is he going to kill you? What about your life?

He chuckles under his breath, the modulator illuminates the lovely sound. No, stop. For all you know he could be a creature under all of that.

“You’re gonna stick with me for a while. I’m going to need your help. I know you’re strong. Just gotta keep the alcohol away from you.”

Your head snaps toward him with a look of bewilderment, “Stuck with you? And—and the green baby?” You almost laugh in disbelief. He’s really kidnapping you.

Mando nods his head, you can almost sense a smile on his face.

And so you do. The child and the Mandalorian slowly grow more fond of you as as months go by- as you do with them. Sometimes, you’ll catch yourself gazing in awe at how well he takes care of his tiny elderly child. You’ll never want to leave because the irreversible attachment that has cemented them both into your heart.

Countless bounty hunts by his side, combat and capturing. Sometimes, well most of the time, you’re forced to sit on the sidelines with the kid in the Razor Crest because it’s too ‘dangerous.’

Of course, you’ll whine and complain, but you always have more fun with the little squirt anyway.

After the first few months of living with them, you meet his friends along the way, Cara Dune, Greef Carga and a few others. Mando slowly opens up to you, letting you know his name and where he came from. Eventually, you find out he’s more human than you thought. Tiny bits of tanned skin peek from underneath his pile of armor when he stretches or moves; it makes you feel a certain way. (Especially, if he walks around the ship in regular clothing and only his helmet,) You’ve grown quite a fascination with his bare hands.

Through everything, you and Din are each other’s shoulder to lean on. Even when countless people attempt to take the kid away from you both, which crushes both your hearts. Maybe, you found your own little family. The universe brought you both together for a reason; to protect the child from the Empire. If you weren’t drinking that day, or if the kid never greeted you unexpectedly—Your life wouldn’t be where it is now. You’re content and happy.

Arguments still happen though. Mando and you are both stubborn creatures. No matter how bad it gets, he will always be yours as you belong to each other unofficially.

Whether it’s platonic, or a little bit more than that...

tags: @duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania @mylifeisactuallyamess @onaheroicmission @3strogen @jupitersmoon167 @unexistant @kimbachan

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x you #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader

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