#i think that was my fingernail but it could have been from another floor incident

[solarisensun]

Delusional Fool (2)

Yandere! Bokuto Koutarou x Reader 

Read Pt 1 here

- Pt 2 is finally here lmao it took me a whole 4 months to finally finish it :0 So sorry for the delay I just suck at writing in general but this piece is over 6k words long (by far one of my longest fics) so I hope it makes up for my shitty update schedule :’) My size kink also really jumped out lmao (it’s there if you squint hard enuf)

Warnings : ‘NSFW’, dub/non-con, breeding kink, yandere themes. (all characters are 18+)

Fukurodani’s ace has a massive crush on you, its a pity you don’t feel the same way.

Pt 1 | Pt 2  | Navigation

Honestly, you feel numb. Dead even.

Even the littlest and most mundane tasks seemed to drain all of your energy.

After the incident, you had cranked the hottest possible setting, stripped yourself bare, and sat under the shower until minutes blended into hours and you lost count of how long you’d let the water batter your skin. Trying to forget everything, trying to melt every single touch off your dirty skin, trying to scrub away the violations branded on your body with scalding hot water until you were raw.

It didn’t work. It’s as if you could still hear his heavy breathing over you, feel his lips on your own, the harsh bite of tiled floor on your red knees.

“Gosh, how did you get so lucky?” A playful shove connects against the back of your shoulder, effectively snapping you out of your thoughts and the surprise of it causes you to stumble forward, nearly falling face-down on the concrete floor before you catch yourself.

“Oh crap sorry.” A hand shoots out to soften the impact but you brush it off and right yourself. The thought of something, anything touching you made you flinch. It’s only when you see the culprit – your best friend that the thundering of your heart slamming against your ribs calms down from its crescendo.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what she means. It only makes your heart swell with dread. Your relationship with him was no longer a secret. To even call it a relationship would be a stretch.

Your friend steps into view from the side of your locker, a broad grin etched on her bright face and eyes dancing mischievously as she waggles her eyebrows in a mockingly scandalous motion. Normally, the sight of it would have prompted you into a fit of giggles but you aren’t sure if you can even reply.

“We all saw Bokuto walk you to class this morning! How long have you been hiding this from us?”

“Oh,” you force yourself to smile, it’s like your lips are curling on their own. “It’s nothing.”

You slam your locker shut, jiggling the combination number at random and give her another (hopefully) less forceful smile. A part of you longed to tell her. Wanted to tell her that Bokuto Kotarou forced you to suck him off in the locker room after school yesterday, used you to his liking to get his dick wet.

But how would she look at you if she sees that picture of you on your knees and looking like a back-alley whore? What would everyone in the school think of you? The thought leaves a bitter taste in the back of your throat.

“Don’t bullshit me,” she gives you another shove - lighter this time, tone dropping down to a dramatic whisper but the admiration still shines through her words. “ The Bokuto Kotarou? Ace and future Japan athlete?”

You smile again, more of a show of teeth than a smile, fingernails scratching a bitter path down the cool metal of your locker in an attempt to steel your fraying nerves at each hideous lie pouring out her mouth. If only she—everyone knew.

“Gosh,” a dreamy sigh. “He’s sooo hot, have you seen his performance in the recent match? All those delicious muscles, especially those beefy thighs imagine him in bed”

Her words were making you sick. You can feel it, a churning pit of dread that swirls in your stomach.

“Hey!” Just as you are about to open your mouth to answer, a loud voice cuts through the conversation and it’s him. Bounding over with that same obnoxious grin plastered on his face. The hallway seems to narrow down as he approaches, like his mere presence overshadows everything else in his path, and it does. 

He swallows up everything with glee, basks in it even, the twisting heads and excited whispers that arise at the sight of none other than Bokuto Koutaro, they seem to follow him like  second shadow. It was like watching a painting too vivid to be real. From the feverish glint in his golden orbs when you meet his gaze that cuts through the crowd straight to yours, the broad lines of his shoulder rippling upwards underneath the grey uniform when he gives you an enthusiastic wave.

He's so large. Easily towering and cutting through the sea of students with such ease, it helps that everyone does out of their way to congratulate him, exchanging witty remarks and enthusiastic slaps on his back of his excellent performance the other day when Fukurodani trashed the volleyball team in court.

Your heart sinks when you notice that his silent companion - Akaashi isn’t trailing his heels. That meant he was going to drag you away.

It takes everything in you not to flinch when Bokuto drapes a heavy arm across your shoulder and plants an affectionate kiss on the side of your cheek, instead, you hunch over, shoulders curling inwards uncomfortably to minimize any contact. “I missed you,” Bokuto sighs dreamily as his lips graze down your cheek to nuzzle your neck.

You noticed that he likes fighting for your attention, clasps your hand in his, your waist, running his thumb over your knuckles with that sickeningly adoring gaze, or placing himself on literally any little part that he can get his hands on. Like he was claiming a piece of you for himself each time he touches you, taking and taking until there was nothing of you left to offer and you were all in the palm of his hand.

“You saw me last period.” You give him a light push, praying that he would leave. Doesn’t he see you hanging out with your friend? You had spent the entire morning on the walk to school enduring his endless chatter and wandering hands, then breaktime where he bounded over to join you behind school in a (thankfully) secluded spot to have lunch together. 

He just wouldn’t shut up, forcing you to nod along and listen robotically to him prattle on and on about how he couldn’t quite do a neat spike when he was under pressure, how he was failing his tests, how he was so hopelessly in love with you. 

You thought it’d be enough to satisfy his delusion. Perhaps you could even rush back home before he came searching for you.

It’d been impossible to get a glimpse of his phone, your chances of escape had dwindled down to a big fat zero.

Too late.

Your friend averts her eyes politely at the affectionate display. It makes you want to scream and shake her by the shoulders. The scene must have looked utterly romantic to an outsider, who wouldn’t want Bokuto Kotaro fawning over them like a lovesick puppy? It takes several seconds before Bokuto finally gets the hint and draws himself back to full height. His eyes bore into yours for another few moments too long and you give your friend a weak smile.

He doesn’t leave.

You were definitely going to be sick.

Everyone is staring, some with jealousy, others with admiration and a handful of scattered curiosity. Their stares are drilling mental holes into every inch of your skin and there is a pale flutter of panic that uncurls itself in your chest. Do they know? Why are they staring?

You look up into the sea of gazes, searching for a trace of anything odd. And thank god. There’s no visible sight of disgust.  It calms the swell of panic in you. Momentarily.

Until Bokuto starts to guide you in the opposite direction of your friend.

“I’ll see you later okay?” You murmur, not even sure if your friend has heard your words but you definitely catch the sly wink she sends your way. Bokuto is already dragging you away to a more secluded wing of the school, his large palm latched on your upper arm in a solid grasp and you can feel his warmth leaching through the sleeve of your uniform when your smaller strides stumble to match his significantly broader ones. The squeak of your scuffed sneakers against the floor suddenly sounds so damned loud.

“Wait, wait” Your hand flutters up to tap frantically on his bicep. “Bokuto, please wait.” Something in your voice cracks at the last word and he finally slows to a stop, one hand scratching the side of his neck sheepishly at the sight of your flushed face and soft pants. Like he’d finally realise you were no match for his athlete pace.

“Sorry sorry,” he’s mumbling as he caresses the side of your cheek with a small smile, thumb swiping across your bottom lip as he tilts your head to meet his gaze. “I got too excited to see you, couldn't stop thinking of you at practise earlier.”

“Oh,” You aren’t sure if you can reply in coherent sentences. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Every part of him was overwhelming (not in a good way), the only thing you could think of was his phone, your tear stained face and dishevelled appearance. The picture.

“Did you miss me?” Bokuto asks and you nod stiffly. Once again, his face lights up in a childish glow and he catches your hand in his to lift it to his mouth. A soft kiss on your inner wrist, then you feel the blunt force of his teeth grazing your tender skin, each scrape of his teeth has you hissing in pain but it’s impossible to move with his grip and you are simply too afraid to push him off. But as quick as the sting arrives, you feel his cool tongue soothe over the red mark with a simple glide.

You look down to your wrist, the skin already reddening and soon would blossom purple. A mark. His mark.

Bokuto’s eyes are unnaturally dark, dilated as he guides you against the lockers. Your trapped; back pressed against the cool kiss of metal and between his wandering limbs. Your trembling hand is still clutched in his grip and Bokuto gives you another grin before he guides your hand to press your palm against the manhood between his legs.

He’s hard already. The stiff touch of his pants rubs into your palm when Bokuto rocks his hips forward. You let loose a little whimper from the back of your throat at the intruding touch and press yourself further into the lockers, anything to get away from him, to put any semblance of distance between the two of you.

Bokuto laughs breathlessly in your ear. “I need you so badly.” He smells like expensive cologne, probably the type that you would see on TV commercials, it’s sharp and musky, and you wince at how it surges your nose.

Your head was beginning to hurt, like there was something unreal about this. Like reliving a nightmare over and over again.

If only you could wake up from it.

“Why do you smell so good?” He asks, still smiling as he looks down at you. For a brief moment, you are taken away by how good he looks. Angelic even, the soft gleam of his golden eyes and that pure smile casts him like a divine being.  He’s blushing, the redness colouring his cheeks when he looks at you. But the thought immediately withers rotten when he opens his mouth. Bokuto leans down again, trailing a line of soft kisses down your jawline, under your chin, his silver hair tickling your face makes you squirm. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Not here,” You avoid the question, free hand coming up to push against his unmoving muscled chest. It’s like trying to fight a brick wall, he’s so big, so strong. The sense of helplessness floods your veins, reducing your movements to lowly protests and weak attempts of trying to push him off “People might see.” Your worried gaze darts across the empty hallway when you speak, a minuscule movement that doesn’t escape Bokuto’s sight.

“Let them see.”

You wince at the words, ducking your head down to avoid his gaze and the male feels his heart melt. Maybe you were right, it would be better to have a little privacy. Anything to make his princess feel more comfortable right?

Bokuto sighs, a soft breeze that fans across your heated cheeks. His arms move to wrap more securely around your waist, pulling you even deeper into his embrace whilst he tugs you sideways, past the endless yawn of metal lockers, past the empty classrooms. A dreadful sense of clarity seems to descend over you when he pushes open the boy’s toilet and there is the soft click of the metal latch sliding shut that echoes much, much louder than the slam of the door.

There’s barely a moment to rest before he crashes his lips against yours in a hurried frenzy, like a rising tide that consumes everything in its unforgiving wave. He kisses you like it’s the last twilight on earth, like he intends to steal your last breath away, the same dizzying kiss that has your fingers clawing against his chest to draw him in? To push him away? You’ve kissed plenty of guys before, but this feeling; the sheer intensity behind his lips has your heart beating so erratically that it feels as if it’s about to burst out your chest.

Bokuto’s voice is gruff when he pants against your parted lips, golden eyes taking in your tousled hair from his fingers, pouty lips glossy and swollen. You look so cute. It’s driving him up the walls, he can’t wait, can’t wait to spread you on his fingers, spread you on his cock. Feel you cum over him, his pretty princess. He’s thought of this moment for so long, it’s like his ultimate fairy-tale come true!

“You got me all worked up from just that kiss.” A roll of his hips has his hardness pressing into your thigh. “I love you so much.” You feel his sneaky fingers tracing a path down the spine of your back before reaching underneath your buttoned uniform.

It’s happening. It’s actually happening.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. There’s that feral intensity lined across every contour of his face. It’s too familiar, too much, too similar to an earlier incident. Cold fear prickles across your skin when his hand rests on your skin.

If he notices the panic flashing in your eyes, Bokuto takes no heed of it. Instead, a hand finds its way through the band of your skirt and you feel the material slither down your legs to pool at your ankles. The coldness of the air against your bare thighs makes you shudder, a stark contrast to the warmth when his large palm grounds into your clothed pussy, pressing a finger against your slit and something in you snaps at the contact.

The resounding crack that fills the room is utterly ear-splitting. By some miracle, the back of your hand connects against the side of his face so hard that Bokuto’s head snaps to the side from the sheer force.

You yank yourself free from his loosened grip and bolt.

The situation is useless, futile. All the odds are stacked against you in this doomed situation right now. You know it, but there is still that treacherous little spark of fearful hope that lights up when the exit looms closer to your erratic scramble. It’s so close, just another few more steps……. You’ll scream, scream once you get past the door. The room is spinning, dimly, you hear Bokuto’s muffled curse and stumbling over the pounding of your heart as your palms slicked up with cold sweat.

There are the loud stomps of his feet thundering closer and you don’t dare to risk a glimpse behind, sluggish feet nearly skidding across the tiled floors when you stumble.

Please, please, please.

You don’t even make it to the door.

A heavy force tackles you to the ground, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs with a shocked yelp. The next thing you knew, your cheek was pressed against the floor, both arms pinned behind your back as Bokuto’s heavy breathing tickles the back of your neck. His hulking weight traps your flailing legs securely enough that the only thing you can do is tremble in fear at what’s about to come.

“What. Did you think you were doing?” The once adoring lilt in his voice is gone, entirely replaced by a cold steely overtone that made the hot tears you had tried so hard to repress spring up. A hardness presses itself into your back and you sob even further, Bokuto’s grunting cuts through your sobs, the press of his erection digging into your ass, separated only by the flimsy material of your panties each time he ruts his hips forward.

“I was being nice,” He has the audacity to sound wounded, settling into the role of the guiltless victim like second skin. “I give us some privacy and you try to escape? Maybe I should’ve fucked you in the hallways huh? Let everyone see that your mine.” The underlying possessiveness in his words sends chills skittering down your spine.

“I didn’t want to bring this up,” He says in a remorseful voice that sends alarm bells ringing in your head. “Or did you forget about our agreement?”

“Wait,” you trash at the touch, desperation fuels your frenzied movements but he merely presses harder, all hard lines and muscle against your soft curves, imprisoning your body under his, you are no match for him, you never were in the first place. And the realization makes your stomach churn. “Bokuto, please.” Even in your cotton filled ears you sound so pathetic, reduced to nothing a whimpering prey under the predator’s grasp. “I’m sorry, please, please let me go, let me go, let me go.” You can feel the cold touch of your tears against the tiled floor with each convulsing sob that wracks your shuddering body.

You can barely breathe. His immense weight is crushing you to the ground, forcing you to pant painfully for each gasp of precious air through your clamped throat. It hurts, hurts like hell and you can feel yourself going light headed from the lack of oxygen.

“Shh,” you feel the pressure on your head vanish and sweet air rushes back into your lungs when you take greedy gasps but you can’t move, still being pinned down at the wrists as his hand wanders down the hem of your uniform, pushing it up so gently that it only settles in when you feel his calloused fingers stroke across your bare stomach. The hand that you struck him with stings, dimly you are sure that the slap hurt you more than him.

He caresses a long slow line down the side of your body, he’s moving so slowly, so carefully, feeling each little goose bump that arises from his touch. “You feel so good,” Bokuto half whispers, you can hear the marvel in his voice, a little part of you basks in the praise, the way he said it so genuinely, the way a lover would utter those same words.

But he’s not your lover. You don’t love him. You are repulsed.

You can still feel his hardness pressing into the side of your thigh when his middle finger swipes across your clothed slit and you jolt, only to press further into his chest. He’s rubbing you, rubbing your pussy in that stupid methodical way that has your wetness beginning to pool through the material. You can’t seem to stop the little twitch of your hips when Bokuto adds another finger to his touch, its building, the familiar sense of electricity and you let out a broken moan when he pulls your panties to the side and you feel a finger prod gently at your entrance before he slips it in.

“You feel that? Your so wet for me baby.” He coos with a deep, melodical chuckle, pushing his finger further into your wetness. You don’t have to turn around to know that Bokuto has that self-satisfied beam plastered on his face and your face burns, burns with equal parts anger and embarrassment.

Still, you remain silent, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his touches are making you want more, making you arch into his back when he curls his ridiculously long digits against your walls. If only you knew, Bokuto would simply take your silence as a challenge.

This time, the whimper that escapes your mouth is loud when he inserts another finger and it’s uncomfortable – the stretch of his finger feels foreign. Even when more of slickness pours out as he buries them knuckles deep in your gummy walls, the stretch has your fingers scrabbling against the floor at the sensation.

“Bo-Bokuto,” Your keen is loud and shrill, neck straining against his other meaty palm that keeps your head pinned on the floor when he curls his fingers in that spongy spot of you.

The sudden withdrawal of his fingers from your cunt has your head spinning and Bokuto flips you on to your back so you’re facing him. You have to watch him now, watching the way his eyes are gleaming feverishly, watch helplessly when he slides his digits back into your cunt at an excoriatingly slow pace. There is a grim sense of satisfaction when you note the faint red print on the side of his cheek from your slap but otherwise, Bokuto remains totally unaffected by your outburst.

“I’m gonna let you go okay?” He murmurs, “Promise me you won’t run away?” it’s not a question.

You nod.

There is a brief moment of tense silence when he surveys you, running an unreadable gaze over your face and you school yourself into nonchalance (or at least, try to) before the harsh grip on your hands disappears and it takes every nerve in you not to run from him. You nearly cower away when his arm reaches to you again. Every muscle in your body tenses instinctively as you forced yourself to remain still.

Bokuto pulls your panties down your legs, a motion that makes you scrunch your eyes shut in mortification until you feel his finger tap on your chin. “Open up, as much as I love to hear you, can’t have you alerting half the school right?” He chuckles like it’s some kind of funny shared joke and pouts when you don’t as much as crack a smile.

“Come on.” Another round of taps on your clenched jaw. Immediately, you let your mouth fall open at the beginnings of annoyance bleeding into his eyes and your obedient compliance causes the dark look to vanish into his usual shine as quick as it came. It’s scarily unnerving, the way Bokuto seemed to flip his moods so quickly like his emotions are merely a trick of light.

You nearly gag when he shoves your panties in your mouth, you can taste yourself on the cotton material. It makes you want to shrink inwards, how did you get so wet from being tackled to the ground by this monster? Nothing about this was remotely arousing, he’s blackmailing you, forcing you to—

He’s fucking you with his fingers in that pleasurable sensation that was driving you off the edge. With your legs now free, you instinctively close them in a feeble attempt to deter his touches. There is a grunt and a large palm digs into the meat of your legs to pin them to the ground and further apart (he’s a big man after all).

You are helpless, the thought flashes in your mind again. Your kitten like bats against his arm makes Bokuto chuckle affectionately. He would never share the picture to anyone, why should anyone else get the opportunity to see you like this? His little angel, his princess. You probably have no idea how delectable you look right now; so soft….so cute, the crystal tears clinging to your sweeping lashes, the smell of your arousal all over his fingers, you’re so small too, it only ignites a sense of protectiveness rushing in him, he would protect you, keep you away from any harm. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since yesterday, one taste of the rush was all he needed to continue his obsession. All his thoughts seemed to run a single train track back to you.

His silver head bends down as Bokuto buries his mouth at the side of your neck, fingers still working a mindless pace in the hot walls of your pussy, drawing out more of your soft whimpers and there is a giddy rush when your hips begin to buck into his erection.

“Mm, mmph!” He isn’t sure your muffled squeal is from the sudden thrust of his fingers or the way he bites into the neck of your skin. Either way, it only fuels his actions. He had wanted to make you pay for your little stunt earlier. It hurt his feeling y’know! How could you act so recklessly? But Bokuto has always found it impossible to stay mad at you.

The angle is awkward due to his immense height when Bokuto all but yanks open your flimsy shirt and bra but he doesn’t mind the slight soreness in his neck when he bends down further to ogle shamelessly at your exposed chest. The mere sight of your breasts has his pants tightening even further than he thought was possible. Even your tits are so fucking perfect.

He’s got to keep calm, before he loses control. Your cunt is so tight, will you be able to take his waiting cock with the way you are already a whimpering mess at two of his fingers? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try.

Your nails dig painfully into his arms when his palm grounds against your clit, lashes fluttering at each little movement but he chooses to let it slide. The hand not playing with your cunt rubs circles over your nipples, making them perk up.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He smiles at the way your chest heaves when he wraps his mouth around your nipples. “Sensitive aren’t you?” Bokuto murmurs against your skin, teeth latching to brand another imprint on your skin before soothing the mark with his tongue.

Your skin looks better when covered in his hickeys. Plus, everyone would know you were his, no more of your friendly desk mate, no more of the way he’d seen the soccer team leer at your legs when you walk home after studying extra hours in the library. 

He can feel your walls tighten when Bokuto curls his fingers experimentally and he bites back a groan. “Fu-fuck princess, feel so good around my fingers. Can’t wait to bury my cock in this pretty pussy.” It’s the tipping point for him, his pelvis rocks forward, longing – dying for any friction on his painfully hard cock.

Bokuto adds a third finger and the cry you let out is barely muffled by the panties. “Don’t know if you can fit more.” He huffs, watching your little cunt being stretched out on his fingers. The sight of it unlocks something utterly primal in him.

He doesn’t realise he’s humping your thigh like a dog in heat until he feels the cotton material of his trousers go damp when his stiff cock twitches with a throb and soft grunts spills from his throat at his sudden climax.

He just creamed his pants like an overeager teenager.

Even so, the onslaught of his fingers doesn’t stop, curling and pressing them just right against the sensitive spot in your cunt that he had memorised earlier until your writhing and crying in soft uh’s underneath him. You’re probably saying something underneath the makeshift gag but he just can’t focus right now. It’s mesmerizing, watching you come undone and you cum, cum so hard that he realised your squirting. Your slick dripping down his fingers and forearm to mingle with his sweat and it’s so fucking hot, he’d only seen this in porn videos but to see you do it? For him?

It only makes his love for you grow stronger.

There is a wet sound when Bokuto slides his fingers out, watching your hole clench desperately around nothing (what a needy little princess) and because he’d always been one to follow his carnal instinct, he laps a curious tongue over his soaked fingers. The taste – your taste makes his eyes roll back. He could probably live in between your legs for the rest of his life, it’s unfair really, how a simple taste has him keening for more.

He's nearly tempted to bury his fingers in you again, just so he could draw out another intoxicating orgasm from your trembling body. But the ache between his legs couldn’t be held back anymore, especially with how he’d been edging himself for ages with the sweet friction of your soft thighs.

With eager fingers, he slides his pants down and its nearly comical at how large your eyes widen when his cock bounces free. His shaft is coated in his own cum, glistening oddly under the lights and Bokuto slides an experienced hand over his cock to pump it in repeated motions. Your reaction is immediate, the fingers once curled around his biceps are now scrabbling free as your little hands rest against his broad chest and push.

“Hey, hey.” Your actions are no match for his reflexes as he catches your wrists in a single hand, holding them tight enough that your movements still down.

You are staring at him, the unshed tears covering your bright eyes in a sheen of gloss. Gingerly, he wipes away the traces of drool that has soaked out of your panties with a careful hand. The last thing he needed was to spook you any further.

“I’ll go slowly,” he promises and your head whips to the side in a clear indication of ‘No!’

Undeterred, he tightens his grip on your thighs - a warning, and you flinch visibly at the pressure. “Relax,” he coos, lining the tip of his throbbing cock against your entrance. You look so tiny, with his cock resting on your stomach. He’d have to work to fit him in. The mere contact sends a jolt through him and he’s gripping your thighs so hard that there are sure to be ten finger shaped prints seared on your smooth skin in a few hours.

“Ah-fuck, princess.” Bokuto nearly chokes on his saliva when the tip slides in. Even after you’d just cum, it’s a ridiculously tight fit. “Relax.”

Gently, well, as gently as possible as he can when his cock is wrapped by your velvety walls and fighting against the rising tide of pleasure, he slides more of his cock in, noting with satisfaction at the way your hands once again find purchase on his arms and your hips ground upwards to relieve the ache.

As he leans forward his cock pushes slowly into your cunt until he’s fully sheathed. God, Bokuto draws his eyebrows together in a pitiful attempt to focus, it was all he could do to stay still for a few moments, let you adjust to his size. Your hot walls were practically sucking him in despite your stuttering gasps that were a clear indication that you hadn’t been ready for the immense stretch of his cock in your body.

His gaze flickers up to peer at your face, your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy as more of your slick pools out to stain your thighs and he can’t help the proud grin on his face. As much as you had tried to fight him off earlier, you are clearly enjoying this as much as him.

He was right, you had wanted him all along. Maybe even as much as he wanted you.

It set him off, his hips pulling back (met with even more resistance) so he can finally rock forward in steady movements as the last few inches of his cock enters your pussy. It didn’t take long, Bokuto was never a man of self-control anyway, he’s already thrusting forward, slamming his length into the addicting sensation of your cunt clenching around every ridge of his cock. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him and you ground up toward him, begging silently for more pleasurable stimulation. It reduces him down to his core, strips away all of his humane assets until the only thing he could focus was the rhythmic piston of his cock into your pussy so he could feel your body tremble and the way your cavern feels like wet hot heaven. A sin and a blessing in one.

“Good—good girl,” He lets out a dark laugh, lifting your limp legs over his shoulder with ease so he could get a better angle to jackhammer deeper, faster. By now, the lewd mixture of his precum and your wetness practically coated his cock and your slit, making it all too easy for him to shove into you faster and faster, eliciting more of your sweet muffled moans that would have been drawing a lot of unwanted attention if he hadn’t gagged you with your panties at the start. Noisy little baby.

Much to his delight, your arms reached up willingly to wrap around his neck and he leans down to plant a trail of sloppy kisses up your neck, the brush of your nipples against his chest merely adds to the intense haze of pleasure. You are close, he feels it, can feel your walls clamp down like vice on his cock each time he slides out and he growls, one hand detaching from your hip to rub messy circles on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, gonna cum?” He grunts, snapping his hips forcefully against the plush resistance of your walls and the utterly obscene sound of his balls smacking your ass fills the room. You nod desperately, little strangled mewls from your mouth sending thrills into his veins as your hips grounding down to meet his thrusts and fingernails digging sharp indents into the base of his neck. You look so desperate, every inch of your pretty face lined with lust and longing from the way his cock was splitting you open.

He bet no one had made you feel this way before. Reduced you to a drooling needy slut just from the feeling of their cock in your cunt. He would be your first and last.

“Cum for me, cum on my cock huh? This pussy,” Another forceful roll of his thumb on your puffy clit has you writhing and trembling. “It’s mine you get it? Mine.” He huffs out a laugh when you go limp, body shuddering from your own orgasm and the harsh pressure of his cock knocking into your cervix that melds the pain into pleasure.

He takes it as hint to chase his own climax, hiking your legs back up, pressing onto your chest to get a deeper angle as he feels the familiar coil of pleasure unwinding deep in his stomach. The feeling of your smooth bare skin across his own only sends him further into cloud 9, you are so smooth, the contrast against the hard lines of his muscle accentuates the power he wields and Bokuto loves it. You were shivering as he drove relentlessly into you, every inch of your sweaty skin still hyper sensitive from the post-orgasm afterglow.

“Gonna cum inside you, ruin this pussy, fuck-fuck stop tightening like that.” He snarls, missing the sheer panic that crosses your face when he utters those words, too lost on the way your pussy is drawing him in deeper, as if you were holding his cock in you. He needs to come in you, wants to cum so badly it’s driving him insane.  

“You’d look so good as a mummy” Bokuto is rambling in a delirious frenzy, strong torso working to pump his cum in you as he reaches his euphoric climax.

He’s sure he cums so hard that stars explode across his vision, sweat dripping down his brow when his spasming cock spills his hot seed into your cunt. “Fu-fuck, oh, shit, princess that’s right, take it all, take my cum in your pretty pussy huh?” There are a few more jerky thrusts as he pushes his cum in you (not that you were able to take it all because he could see white dripping from your pussy), relishing the way your overstimulated cunt shuddered around his shaft from the force of his jackhammering.

Finally, he slides his now soft cock out of your pussy, watching the string of white from the head of his cock break off to join the milky mess at your thighs. Sheer joy seemed to flood his veins when he saw his cum in your pussy, he could already envision your swollen belly in his mind, how darned cute would your kids be?

Reaching up, he pries your soaked panties out of your mouth. “You came inside me.” Your voice is quiet yet baleful, slightly shaky from the orgasm.

“I did,” he coos, oblivious to the way your stomach drops with despair as he slides your panties back up your legs to keep anymore of his cum from leaking out despite your weak protests. “Gonna have to fuck you more huh? Make sure you take all my cum in your body.” Still recovering from his own high, his breathing is ragged against your skin.

Strong hands skate up your stomach to worship your breasts with his mouth and you whined softly at the feeling of his tongue tracing wet circles around your nipples, fingers tangling into the tufts of his silver hair, you were simply too tired to fight him anymore. “You’d look even prettier with swollen tits you know?”

Just when you’d thought he was done (you were a fool to assume that this was over), there is a soft rustling that forces your bleary eyes open and you catch him fishing his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

“Smile baby!”

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Navigation

#tw: noncon #tw: yandere #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #just a deluison #haikyuu bokuto #yandere #anime fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #lemon

[red1culous]

Oh part 1

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7

Standing in front of that imposing building you felt your resolve falter slightly. It looked as though nothing had changed in years. Even the grove of trees that lined the driveway, tall and graceful, seemed to be frozen in time.

One foot in front of the other, you coax yourself. 

You suck in a laboured breath and walk into the large courtyard stopping once again as you take in your surroundings. You had hoped to be able to come and go without notice but the gravel covering the courtyard was doing a great job in announcing your arrival. 

This is new, you think to yourself slightly amused at your naivety thinking things would have stood still just because you left.

You hadn’t been back in over a decade after that little incident and if anyone had told you you would be standing where you were right now, you would have laughed in their faces before smacking them across it. 

You walk through a smaller sylvan courtyard of blooming orange trees. In its centre you see a fish pond. Smiling you look into it and search for the red and gold koi you had put there when you built the pond as a birthday present for Tony. It swims up to the surface as if it recognises you and if it weren’t for the boxes you were lugging about you might have even bent down to poke at its mouth.

For a split second you consider turning around and walking, no, running away. Screw the freshly baked muffins that were precariously balanced on you. You could just head back to the shop and sell them off at half price. You didn’t need the huge commission that the Avengers had agreed to pay for them. No you definitely didn’t need it…

…you also definitely did not need your business partner chewing off your ear about passing off said commission. 

Think of all the rich people eating your food? you can hear her clawing voice bounce about in your head. 

In truth you knew that the Avengers could easily afford a better baker. The best pastry chefs this side of the globe would happily saw off their left foot to be able to cater for them. But Pepper rings your mobile phone, claiming she meant to actually dial the shop, to place an order…a significantly large one…one she knew you would not be able to resist.

“Shit…” you mumble under your breath seeing the cause of your stress marching towards you a huge smile on her face.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Pepper says holding onto your upper arms and leaning in to place air kisses on your cheeks.

“No of course not…it’s just…umm…” you stutter as your heart thumps so hard it rattles its ribcage.

“I know…it’s a little weird being back” she says hands still holding you in place as if she knew you were about to bolt right out of there.

You shrug chuckling a little. “It’s stupid isn’t it?” you adopt a wide smile which had always been effective when dealing with difficult customers.

“Don’t give me that look” she swipes at your chin, “and it’s not stupid either. Just so you know, we’re all on your side.” She adds giving you a sympathetic look and you calm slightly at her words. 

“Thanks Pep.”

“Ok you head in. I’ll meet you inside in a bit, you don’t mind do you? Tony ordered a grand piano and it’s just arrived…” she trails off.

“Sure, I know my way around” you say smiling as she squeezes your arms before letting you go. Of course you knew your way around. After all, this had been your home too for over 5 years. 

5 years of bliss with her. 

You mentally chide yourself. Nope, not gonna go back there. 

As you climb the white marbled steps that led to the main door of the mansion you steal a glance at the silent looming windows glinting in the early morning light. You hesitate a little seeing a shadow pass quickly across one of them. 

Shit. 

Shaking your head, yet again, you finally reach the large oak doors. The bright and zesty scent of your lemon muffins waft into the air and as you are about to ring the doorbell the solid doors open revealing a tanned and muscled man in a shirt way too small for his body.

“STEVEN!” you shout whisper as his face splits into a wide grin.

“Y/N! Wh-what are you doing here?” he almost engulfs you in a hug stopping at the very last moment realising your arms were occupied.

“I-I…umm, muffins?” you return his grin looking down at your packages.

His eyes widen a little before taking some of the boxes from you. He balances 3 with ease in one hand as he pulls you inside. “No I mean I knew we had ordered from you…,” he says walking with you towards the kitchen, “…but I thought you said you were going to send a runner or something.”

“Well I was but our regular guy called in sick” you say gently placing the boxes onto the kitchen island.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate” he eyes you winking when you catch his gaze.

You roll your eyes at him. “No Steve, it’s the very opposite of what you mean.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he shuffles up beside you to bump your shoulder, “it’s been so long.”

“It has...but hey! I get to see you again!” you bump his shoulder back and he pretends like it hurts him. “Ok so these need to be consumed within 3 days…”

“Woah woah woah now…” he cuts you off, “…you’re talking like you’re about to leave.”

He gives you a sad pouting face. His crisply parted hair makes him look like a choirboy albeit a very well built one. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Steve you know I don’t belong here” you say fingering the hem of your shirt.

Your answer seems to baffle him. He straightens up and stares at you for a moment narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’m skipping my morning run just to hang out with you, so you can at least spend some time with me.”

“Steve…” you protest before he cuts you off again.

He raises a hand in your face. “Not hearing any of it” he says grabbing yours and leading you out of the kitchen, “…we’re going to take a walk and you’re going to meet some of your family.” 

You knew there was no use arguing with him. The death grip he had on you meant that you couldn’t even try to make a dash for it. “Steve if she…” you add and he cuts you off. Third one in a row. This was getting ridiculous.

“Shh!” and that was final. He leads you into the giant library where that vapid painting by Albert Ryder still hung on the wall. You hated that massive eye sore and always wandered what Tony liked about it. You’d always pegged him for the colourful extravagant type and this painting was just so out of character.

“Sam! Look who’s here?” Steve’s voice bellows out interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes trail up the curving mahogany spiral stairs that Steve is looking at and onto another floor of bookcases that were bathed in sunlight pouring in through a round skylight on the ceiling. 

“OMG Y/N?!” Sam almost shrieks as he bounds down the steps at a dangerous pace to collect you in a massive bear hug. “What are you doing here?!” he adds still crushing you in his arms.

“I came with the cupcakes…” you giggle as he picks you up and twirls you around. “Th-They brought me as their plus one.”

He puts you down to really look at you as if committing you to memory. A large smile sits on his face. “I see the sass is still there?”

“It never really left, big guy” you raise an eyebrow smirking as he hugs you one more time. 

“Pleaseee tell me you’re here for the party?” he groans wrapping an arm around your shoulders looking at you hopefully. “Parties here have been so sad since you’ve been gone.”

You hum about to answer as out of nowhere two slender arms wrap around you. It knocks the wind out of you and you instinctively hug back letting the smell of cinnamon and spice invade your senses. “Wanda!” you yelp.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming” she squeals smacking you across the arm.

You giggle at her pout. “I didn’t know I was coming, malyshka.”

She grins at your use of the word. “Ok let’s go” she says to a chorus of groans. 

“Excuse me! You are not taking her any where!” Sam blurts out grabbing your free hand.

“Sorry guys but I found her first” Steve adds standing in front of you and placing an authoritative hand on your shoulder his fingernails biting into the flesh there. 

“Guys…” you cough nervously, “how about we take a walk…together” you say quietly and sigh in relief as everyone starts smiling and pestering you with questions again. 

I guess nothing’s really changed after all.

---

Tagging: @thewidowintheweb   @natasharomanoffismywife  @imnotasuperhero  @cybeleceto  @silverwing2522  @thelastavenger-3000  @peggycarter-steverogers  @rooskaya-yelena  @blackwidowromonoff  @lesbian-x-blackwidow  @nowthisisliving27   @izalesbean  @aaron-despair  @marvelfansince08love  @rileigh519   @wannabe-fic-reader  @hcartbyheart  @marvel-randomness  @thewitchandtheassassin  @username23345  @xixxiixx  @rebeliz777  @summergeezburr  @frostedfavesmain  @higherfurther-romanova​ @sapphicluxanna​

#oh #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #redfic

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Javier being kind of an asshole, allusions to sex, a ~moment~ in the bathtub, mention of PTSD and trauma, food mention, drink mention, ...feelings?

Word count: 4200

Author’s Note: It’s been so long! I’m sorry. It’s been pretty hectic and I’ve been doing my best to wrap up my other series’ and complete requests. I appreciate you all for sticking around and asking for updates on this chapter. I’ve mentioned it a few times, but PIFTL is very difficult to write. It deals with very sensitive issues and so not only can it be mentally draining to write, it takes a lot of time to research and edit. I won’t give up on this series though. I adore this story and can’t wait to share it all with you.

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

* Reblogs appreciated and my ko-fi is linked in my bio if you wish to support my writing!

Nina pushed off Javi quicker than a bullet leaving a gun, grabbing a blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her naked body. “What the fuck Javier?” she spat.

Jesus Christ -- Javier had never made that mistake before. Moaning someone else’s name? He was better than that. It took him a moment to just process what happened, Nina’s yelling and accusations only a blur in the background. “Who is she, Javier?” Nina questioned, her tone venomous. That was enough to snap the agent out of his thoughts. Her cold eyes burned like wildfire as she glared at him. “Who. Is. She?”

“Uh…” Javier racked his brains to try and figure out a way he’d be able to save this situation. But the longer he took to answer Nina’s question, the more infuriated she got. “Informant.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You’d agreed to help him. But whether or not you’d actually be able to provide Javier with any relevant information was a different ordeal in itself.

“You’re still sleeping with your informants?” Nina gasped a little, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment. “Why am I not surprised?”

Javier sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling himself off Nina’s bed and grabbing his denim jeans that had been previously discarded on the floor. “C’mon Ni, don’t get jealous now. We haven’t been together for like, a year.” Javier hummed, zipping up his pants. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to locate his shirt. Maybe there was no fixing this. For a split second, he’d forgotten why things had ended with Nina, but now it was becoming clear again. He just had to get outta there. He needed air, and a smoke. 

“I let you cum inside of me and you moan out another woman’s name!” Nina exclaimed, shaking her fists in the air. “Javier Peña I fucking hate you!”

Javier offered Nina a small shrug of his shoulders before finding his shirt and buttoning it up. “I’ll see you around Ni.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Called him seventeen times Con, he’s taking the piss.” Steve grimaced, aggressively flicking to the next page of the Bogotá local newspaper.

“Will you just calm down? He’s our friend. We’re doing him a favour. He'll be back soon,” Connie sighed, glancing back over to you, where you had been sleeping on the sofa for the past two and a half hours. “She sleeps better than our Liv,” Connie noted. “Wish we could sleep as well as that.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I’ll go check on Liv.” He announced at the mention of his daughter. He’d put her down for a nap about an hour ago in Javier’s bedroom.

“No honey, I’ll go. You keep working on your crossword,” Connie giggled before pointing her index finger into one of the blank squares. “Fourteen down: Los huevos revueltos.” 

“I would’ve got that,” Steve huffed, scrambling to write the answer down. He definitely would not have. The Spanish puzzle was made for infants and yet he was still struggling.

“Whatever Murph.” Connie rolled her eyes, leaving the table where they were both sitting at. 

The second she left the room, you woke up in a cold sweat, feeling dizzy and shaking from a nightmare you didn’t want to remember. Your cheeks were wet, tear stained and goose pimples pricked at your arms. You checked your surroundings in a fluster, not recognising the brown leather couch you were laying on, or the oak wood coffee table in front of you, or even the television pushed against the cream coloured walls. A man with blonde hair and mustache raced over to you, and dropped to his knees, holding you by your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” The man quizzed, his blue eyes searching to meet yours. You were horrified, the feeling of an unfamiliar man grabbing you like this. You screamed in terror, and defensively dug your fingernails into his skin. The man yelped out and stumbled back from you, hitting the coffee table in the process. “Fuck-- shit-- ow--” He gasped. “Connie!” he called. “Connie, she's awake!”

The way he yelled and screamed your name... it was like you were some kind of monster. You hated it.

The sound of footsteps padding into the living room alerted you, and a woman, not much older than you, knelt down in front of you. But unlike the man, she knew well enough to keep her distance. “Hi sweetheart, are you alright? I’m Connie, don’t be afraid. You’re okay.” she assured you, her voice sweet like honey. 

“Where am I?” you choked out, tears filling your eyes. 

Connie hesitated for a moment. “She doesn’t remember where she is?” Steve asked Connie with concern, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled himself together and shuffled over to you. Taking a note out of Connie’s book, he kept his distance. Connie briefly explained to her husband how your behaviour right now actually made a lot of sense, and how victims of PTSD can often have ‘memory blanks’.

“Darling, I’m Connie Murphy. I’m a nurse. And this is my husband Steve. Steve is DEA. He’s friends with Javier Peña. You know that name, right? Javier Peña.” She repeated his name slow and steady, allowing you to take your time to process the words. Javier Peña. Just like that, a wave of calmness washed over you. His name felt like home. It felt like safety. 

“I know Javi.” you whispered in admittance, shuffling around on the sofa. You could feel your lips trembling. It was strange. You were new to Bogotá, and you didn’t really have any friends, other than the late Rosa. And well, Javier too. He was a client, sure, but he was always kind and gentle with you, unlike your other customers. You’d like to think of him as a friend. Right now, he was the only person you had. 

“This is Javier’s place. He’s going to watch over you for a little while, okay?” Connie explained. “We are your friends and we’re not going to hurt you. I promise,” the lady soothed. She turned to Steve. “Bring over Olivia.”

“What-- why?” Steve quizzed, his eyebrows furrowing together in bewilderment.

“She needs to know she can trust us. Bring over Olivia,” Begrudgingly following his wife’s instruction, a wary Steve stood up and padded into Javier’s bedroom where Olivia had been left to sleep in a small, transportable crib. He picked up his daughter and carried her into the living room. “This is my daughter Olivia,” Connie told you quietly, smoothing out Olivia’s black hair. “She’s one year old. Would you like to hold her?”

“Connie are you fucking crazy?” Steve snapped.

“I’m a fucking nurse Steve, I know what I’m doing.” Connie hissed back, taking Olivia from her father. She looked back over to you and her deep frown turned into a comforting smile as she slowly handed you the baby. Connie’s hands never left Olivia, and she made an effort to support her head as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms.

Holding Olivia Murphy gave you a feeling of responsibility. If Steve and Connie were dangerous, they would never have shown you their daughter, let alone allow you to hold her in your arms. You contemplated everything and although it was hard, you decided that you probably could trust them. Still, it raised the question: “Where is Javi?”

Steve shook his head incredulously and stood up, grabbing the phone from one of the side tables and dialling his partner’s number again. You didn’t know what was wrong with the blonde haired agent, but you got the impression that he did not want to be here.

“Steve is going to call him, again. He went to get groceries. I’m sure he won’t be long.” Connie informed softly, and you nodded your head. 

“Your baby is adorable,” you announced quietly and Connie smiled, thankful you were beginning to talk a little more. Seemingly, you’d calmed down, which meant Connie’s comforting approach had worked.

“She’s a real gem, isn’t she?”

Javier was just a couple of blocks away when his carphone began to ring. He eyed up the display and read the ‘17 missed calls’, cursing under his breath. He clicked the accept button and continued to drive.

“Javier Peña. You prick.”

“Hi bestie.” Javier grinned, shaking his head at Steve’s introduction. Typical.

“You left us here for three fucking hours with some random girl -- who, by the way, is incredibly unstable, Javier. I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but I’m not here for it. Where the fuck have you been? No, forget that. You better be home in the next ten minutes and you better have the ingredients for my fucking paella.” Steve growled before angrily slamming the phone down on the hook.

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle. Steve Murphy was ever the drama queen.

As he drove down the street, he made one final attempt to shrug off what had happened with Nina. Okay, yeah, saying your name was a little uncalled for. But she always got so needy and possessive -- even when she had no reason to be. Nina and Javier weren’t exclusive and hadn’t been for a long time, so, what was her deal?

What was even more concerning to Javi, was the fact he said your name in the first place. Nina looked rather similar to you. Not identical, but from a distance, there was a chance she could’ve been mistaken. Only, when he was pounding into her from behind, he wasn’t at a distance. In fact he couldn’t have been any closer, and yet he still said your name. He was really struggling to justify it. 

Sure, he’d been thinking about you when he was inside of her. But was that really so bad? You were clearly on his mind, and Javier just pinned that down to the fact he’d been out all day investigating the crime scene at the brothel. He’d been with you, he’d held you and comforted you. Fuck, even before noon he had been fucking your mouth. It wasn’t exactly unreasonable…

But moaning out your name… shit, could Javier really get past that? Was there any way to justify that -- other than the blatant and glaring honest reason that Javier refused to admit. He wouldn’t even let his mind go there. Whatever, it was fine. He was home now. The end of a long day.

Javier grabbed the groceries from the back of his car and buzzed himself into the DEA apartment block where he and Steve were living. Making his way over to his apartment, he opened the front door and set the brown paper bag of ingredients down on the kitchen counter. When he got home, Connie was just finishing up painting your nails a beautiful sea blue gel colour. She turned around and she looked up at Javier. Your eyes, however, were already fixated on him the second he entered the room.

“Where’s Steve?” Javier asked, diverting his gaze from the two women and continuing to unpack the food. 

“He went home. He’s pissed, Javi.” Connie admitted, shaking her head in annoyance and placing the pot of nail polish on the coffee table. She walked into the open space kitchen and nudged the agent.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Javier muttered, stacking the canned goods into a cupboard.

“I’m going home, but don’t think we’ve forgotten about the paella. Steve wants that fucking paella,” Connie chastised. Javier nodded his head but remained silent as he emptied his bag of shopping. “Unbelievable.” Connie scoffed incredulously, and opened the front door before slamming it behind her.

“Thanks Con!” Javier called, but there was no telling if she even heard.

Javier was half way through putting his shopping away when he heard your meek and softly spoken voice call his name in a questioning tone. His dark eyes looked over at you. You were sitting upright on the sofa and his face softened. Stopping what he was doing, he neglected the bag of groceries and padded into the living room to sit down next to you. 

“Hi.” Javier murmured, crossing his legs and adjusting the crochet blanket that was covering your lap. 

“Hi.” you replied, feeling somewhat shy and slightly nervous, for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“How are you feeling?” Javier asked, bringing himself to look at you.

“Um,” you fumbled at the blanket and thought for a moment. It was a loaded question. Other than the overwhelming feeling of distress and helplessness, you decided to give the agent a simple answer. “Well rested. A little thirsty.” 

Javier nodded. “How would you feel about taking a bath?”

You swallowed back a knot in your throat that you hadn’t even realised was there in the first place. “...Do I smell?” you asked, You stretched out and gave your underarms a sniff, prompting Javier to burst out into laughter. Shit, had you always been that adorable? Your nose scrunched up at the distinct smell of dried up blood on your clothes and your shoulders slumped sadly. Javi, noticing your change in demeanor, gently lifted up the blanket and wrapped it around your body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed. “Believe me, I get stinky too. It happens. Let me help you take a bath. Come with me.”

Taking his hand, Javier navigated you towards the bathroom. It was a small boxy room with barely any space to move around, and yet, to your surprise, it fit a bathtub. Javier twisted the faucet, and the tap began to run warm water. He picked up a bottle of bubble bath and a tub of salts. “I have a bad back,” Javier told you. “These salts really help me relax. And the bubbles are nice too.”

You nodded with a smile. As he emptied the contents into the tub, you watched the products swirl into a colourful abyss. “It smells like you.” you uttered, without really thinking about the weight of your words. Javier said nothing, and you both sat by the side of the tub in comfortable silence, watching as it filled up. He occasionally dipped his hand in the water, checking the temperature.

“Will you be okay?” Javier asked you, taking out a towel and folding it up on top of the toilet seat.

You weren’t really sure, but you nodded your head anyway. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up again. “Actually, Javi, could you stay?”

Javier fumbled a little but smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

Javier had seen you naked countless times due to the nature of your job but for some reason, this time, it felt different. He’d never had a woman use his bathtub before, let alone be requested to stay in her presence as she got undressed and stepped inside. You slipped out of your sultry, blood stained dress and let it pool to the floor. Javi’s mouth parted as he took in your naked form under the amber tinted bathroom lights. 

You stepped inside the tub and almost slipped over, but Javier, as quick as lightning, grabbed your arm and steadied you. “Sorry,” he muttered, and your hand slid into his. As your fingers interlocked, you felt something. It was like a bolt of electricity, running up your arm, and judging by Javier’s reaction, he could feel it too. “I should’ve warned you. It can be a little slippery.”

You giggled and tried to tear yourself from Javi’s grip, but he didn’t let go of you once. Instead,  he helped you sit down comfortably amongst the bubbles and aromatic hot water. You moaned, feeling your body become indulged and your muscles soften. You smiled and laid back, the bubbles fizzing around your neck and chin, and Javier felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed your lips curl into a smile. It was the smile he would kill to see, and he hadn’t even realised how much he missed it.

“Just relax,” Javier soothed. “I’ll be back faster than you can count to ten.”

Javier ran into the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cupboards before racing back to the bathroom. Kneeling down by the side of the tub, he dipped the glass into the water, filling it up, and gently emptied it down your hair. 

“Close your eyes,” he requested, continuing to wet your hair ample enough until it was ready to be shampooed. Taking the bottle of his musky scented shampoo, Javier squirted the thick liquid into your scalp and began to massage it in. You couldn’t believe how gentle he was, and how he was taking his time with you. You’d never in a million years imagine Javier Peña being like this, or acting this intimate, with any woman -- especially not you. To be honest, his own behaviours were even coming to shock Javier. But he just let his instincts take over. He wanted to protect you and make sure you knew just how safe you were. That was the most important thing on his mind.

Once he rinsed your hair, he grabbed some soap and a sponge, handing them to you. “Do you uh-- uh-- do you think you can wash your own body?” He asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together. “If not, that’s okay. I can help. But--”

You smiled and rested a wet hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Javi. I’ll be fine.” you promised, taking the sponge from him. 

“I’m going to find you some clothes to change into.” He told you. “Shout if you need me. I won’t be long.”

And he stuck by his word. Javier raked through his drawers and picked out a pale yellow button down shirt that he hadn’t worn in a few years and a pair of boxer shorts. Padding back into the bathroom, he presented you with them. “It’s not much but it’s all I have,” he told you. “I’m sure Con will take you out shopping at some point. Or we can hop on back to your place tomorrow to grab some of your stuff,” You smiled and stood up, making sure to be careful not to slip this time. Javier held out the towel for you and wrapped you in it. “I’ll leave you to get dried.”

When Javier went back into the kitchen, he figured he should put the rest of the groceries away, only to notice that the once frozen paella ingredients had become defrosted and been rendered completely useless. “Shit.” Javier cursed, pushing them to one side and running a hand through his hair. Looks like after all of this, he couldn’t make paella tonight. He knew he was about to get an earful from Steve at work tomorrow.

“Do you like pizza?” Javier called, rummaging around for a take-out menu and grabbing his phone from the counter.

“I do!” you called back, buttoning up Javier’s shirt and wrapping a towel around your head.

When you padded into the kitchen, dressed in Javi’s clothes, the agent felt his throat dry up. You were a sight to behold. You smelt distinctly like him, but you already looked one thousand times better now that you were clean and comfortable. You felt better, too. It was amazing what a bath could do to you. You shimmied onto one of the bar stools Javier kept by the counter and rest your elbows against the laminate. Javier passed you the menu so you could look over the dishes.

You agreed on a simple chilli pizza, which was one of Javier’s favourites anyway. Javi called the deli and asked for a large, planning on sharing it with you. Remembering that you’d mentioned you were thirsty, he poured you a glass of water and handed it your way.

“Steve is gonna be so mad at me tomorrow,” Javier chuckled, rubbing his temple. You peeked up from the glass that you nursed and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I promised him paella and I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight. Not only that but he’s gonna ask me where I’ve been. He’ll know I wasn’t out getting groceries for three hours.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together and tilted your head. “Three hours? Where were you?”

Javier paused and absent-mindedly brushed a finger along his mustache. “I bumped into an ex at the store. Went back to her place and-- you know.”

Your eyes fell back into your glass of water. “Oh.”

Javier picked at his short fingernails and another sigh left his lips. “Shit, I just--” he shook his head. “Made a mistake. A very big mistake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yeah, that would probably be for the best but how could he even begin to tell you what happened, when you were part of the problem? Javier figured it might even scare you away. “It doesn’t matter… she’s just…” Javier scratched his head. “She’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem, I think.”

The doorbell rang and Javier was grateful for the interruption. He paid the pizza delivery guy and sent the stone bake on the table.

“It looks good,” you smiled. “I’ve never had Colombian pizza.”

Javier’s jaw dropped. “You--?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dulzura, how long have you lived here?” 

“A month,” you grinned, with a mouthful of pizza. “Tastes good.”

After you’d finished eating, it had gotten pretty late. You and Javier exchanged small talk, learning little things about each other. You liked it a lot. He had always been an enigma to you, and even though he offered little information, it was still something, and you appreciated that a lot.

“It’s been a difficult day,” Javier noted, folding the pizza box and throwing it away to be recycled. “You should take my bed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I’m fine on the sofa. Honestly.”

Javier sighed. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the sofa any longer. You’ll get back ache.”

“Then I’ll just use your bath salts.” You smirked in retaliation. Javier laughed and you relished the way small crinkles appeared in the corner of his honey coloured eyes.

“Please, take my bed.” Javier said, staring at you pointedly. His eyebrows were raised and his strong arms were crossed over his chest.

You were about to argue further but truthfully, sleeping in a bed tonight sounded like exactly what you needed. You took a few steps closer to Javier, a pool of butterflies swirling in your stomach as you broke any distance between you both. You wanted to kiss his lips so desperately, taste him once again. It was only earlier today you’d had your lips wrapped around his cock, and yet, so much had happened in between then and now. You wondered if Javier was thinking about it too.

“Get some sleep, hermosa.”

Your eyes were completely trained on his soft pink lips. You wanted to kiss-- you just wanted to kiss him. Just one kiss. Just one-- you leaned in and shut your eyes, and neared him, closer and closer... but Javier stepped away.

And you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Nothing personal,” he told you. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nothing personal? How were you meant to accept that? You had literally sucked him off just a few hours ago and now he wouldn’t even grace you with a kiss? Maybe Rosa was right; you shouldn’t form crushes on clients. Especially not Javier Peña. You’d only get hurt. You tugged on the sleeves of his button down shirt and balled your fingers into a fist, trying to ignore the pain in your chest.

Without uttering a word, not even a ‘goodnight’, you sulked away and into his bedroom.

Javier wanted to shout out. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, or even upset. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. It took him all the strength he could muster to deny you of that kiss. Your perfect lips looked so soft and delicate and if Javier could have it his way, he would’ve taken you in that very moment.

But you were more than just a sex worker now. You were a compliance in the hunt to catch Escobar -- and he had to be careful. No matter what, he couldn’t risk losing track of the bigger picture.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[cthulhuliet]

Hi hi ~~ big fan of your Lawlight work * chef kiss * So, if it serves to inspire you I got this little idea! NSFW A huge hc of mine is that Light loves L reading for him with that hot British accent of his, like come on, L`s dubbed voice with a brit accent??*agressive chef kiss* SOO imagine Light resting his head on L`s lap while L is reading to him and things get lewd in the novel :D maybe things coul get lewd in reality too 👀👀 oh, and another hc of mine is that Light rides D like a pro so ... maybe something with both? if you'd like 👉👈 No pressure at all tho!

Thank you so much for your kind words :') I am a fan of your Lawlight work as well, and even though it took a two weeks or so (my bad) I really hope you enjoy! (it also, as always, turned out to be a lot longer than I meant it).

close your eyes and imagine it

3.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, general kink, you know the drill

Most of the dreams were incomprehensible nonsense, and L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents. “Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one. Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit.

OR

The one where Light discovers a dream journal he had written during the Kira investigation and can't help but be embarrassed by L's role in his fantasies. L, of course, does not mind. -

“A dream journal?” L questioned. He closed his laptop and Light smirked, raising an eyebrow, holding the notebook in his hands. L crossed the room and took the journal from Light, “Where did you find this?”

Light shrugged, “On my bookshelf with a lot of my other textbooks and such.”

“How old is this?”

“Was in my late teens, I suspect.”

L flipped through the book idly, Light’s neat handwriting was pleasant and clean compared to L’s own scrawled and messy penmanship. The pages slightly stuck together, as the old notebook seemed to have not been touched in years. L stopped at a page and briefly read the contents and looked at the date, before his own eyes widened.

“Hang on, this is during-”

“The Kira investigation? Yeah.” Light’s slight smirk turned into a large cheshire. “I figured you might be interested in reading what I wrote.”

L bit his bottom lip, looking up at Light, one eyebrow raised, “Does the Death Note still give you nightmares to this day?”

Shrugging, Light came up to L and looked over his shoulder at the notebook, “I mean, sometimes? But I also believe that having nightmares is just a part of being a person.”

“Or you have become so numb to your own murderous tendencies the nightmares do not affect you that much anymore.” L muttered, just loud enough for Light to hear.

He did hear him, of course, and he retaliated by shoving L hard enough for him to fall backwards onto their bed. Light socked L on the arm when he flopped down onto his back as well as L went to read Light’s journal to himself.

“Leave me alone, Light, can’t you see I am busy?” L teased, which earned him another hit on his arm, “You are being bothersome.”

Light crossed his arms, now sitting next to L laying down on the bed, “Those are my dreams, you are not reading without me, obviously.”

“Well then lie down so I can read them to you.” Light was the most frustrating man that L had ever been with. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

L sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Light assumed his usual position and rested his head on L’s lap. L idly put his hands through Light soft brown locks, twirling his soft hair through his fingers.

This was not an unusual position to find the pair in. Light often requests that L read to him, the other man finding the restrained but smooth baritone of L’s voice to be incredibly attractive, but also incredibly calming to listen to. It is not the first time his voice has been complimented, and it certainly will not be the last. Sayu has told L multiple times that he should become a voice over actor. He politely declined. The rest of the people do not matter, really. The only praise he needs is when Light humbly hands him a book he reads before bed, and falls asleep to L’s voice quicker than any amount reading on his own.

“‘ April 1st, 2004: I was present for class at To-Oh university, however we were all forced to give a presentation about when we believe all of our classmates will die and why. This was a horribly dark and drab lecture hall, and I had forgotten my cue cards about why Sakurano Mari was going to die due to dementia .’  This is not exactly a fun read.”

“It was not exactly fun to think about either.”

“I am going to find a different one.”

L used one hand to run his fingers through Light’s hair and the other to flip through the journal, skimming through the contents. Most of the recounts were incomprehensible nonsense, though there is no judgement to be had there. Whenever L does sleep, most of his dreams are disconnected fragments of stories -- feelings and emotions rather than a complete narrative.

L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents.

“Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one.”

“Are you?”

“Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit:

“‘ Damn that Ryuzaki. He is plaguing my thoughts not only during the day, but I cannot even escape the damn bastard in my dreams’, I love you too, dearest ,” L sardonically snided. Light pinched his thigh , “ ‘Last night's events were particularly egregious, as this is not the first time something like this has happened, but I feel mortified even writing this down. Though, maybe if I recount what happened (like with the nightmares) these dreams will go down in their numbers.

“‘Ryuzaki and myself were in the library studying next to one another. I was eating a biscotti with tea. As it was in my mouth, Ryuzaki came up and bit off the end of my biscotti and just chuckled at me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but I just know I felt really hot an -’”

“L…” Light gripped his thigh dangerously, “What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question, but Light said it as a command. He ignored him. Light was never the one to give out commands anyway.

“‘ I cannot remember much but the next moment Ryuzaki’s lips were on my neck. Everything was fuzzy, but I could feel him biting marks into me and was teasing me by grinding against my di- ’”

Light growled, “I’m taking this away from you. Now.” He moved to sit up, but L’s hand was still in his hair. L gripped his roots harshly and shoved him back down. Light whined at the action, swallowing hard.

“You are not going anywhere.” That was a command, and Light took it as such.

“This is mortifying…” Light muttered against the mattress, his speech breathy.

L hummed and pulled Light’s hair up, forcing him to look at him, “I disagree.” He lied. “You are going to be good and listen to me read this whole thing.”

Light laughed, cocky, though his eyes were glassy with flushed cheeks, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

“Or how about I get to come and you don’t, hmm?” Light opened his mouth and closed it again, face flushed with shame. L let go of his hair and Light buried his head in L’s lap. L smirked and chuckled, “You are so adorable, all blushy and embarrassed…” Light whined at that, running his fingernail down the inside of L’s thigh.

“‘ This is not the first time this has happened, though I have to admit, it was the best incident. Even hazy, I had never felt that sensitive and stimulated. I just wanted to stay like that forever.’” L had one hand on the book, the other held a distracted, but firm, grip in Light’s hair, who was presently biting his lip and running soft strokes over L’s cock. “‘It was even better when I got to put my mouth on Ryuzaki. I have never sucked a dick before, so my brain could only supply what it imagines it feels like, but it was not even that that made it so good. Ryuzaki would hold my hair tight and look down at me while I was on my knees. He kept telling me that I was a slut, but that I was doing such a good job for him. Even before this I thought Ryuzaki had such a nice voice, I wish I could hear him more…’ You think my voice is nice, huh?” L asked, keeping his voice level, as Light’s feather touches became firm palming.

He groaned again, “Tch, shut up.”

“No.” L pulled him by his hair, forcing Light to look him in the eye, “I think it is time you shut up.” In only a few seconds, L manhandled Light and dropped him to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. L sat at the end, grabbing the journal with one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. “How many times have you sucked dick since writing this? Hundreds?” Light finished the job of removing L’s pants and underwear, his cock standing erect in front of him, “C’mon cock-slut, show me what you got.”

Light eagerly took L in his mouth, expertly utilizing his tongue on his head. L closed his eyes and tried to not become overwhelmed by the sensation. He opened his eyes to see Light’s cocky doe-eyes staring back up at him.

“What was it that you dreamed of? My hand tight in your hair, fucking your mouth, telling you you’re being a good slut, right?” L asked, rhetorically as he returned his hand to harshly grip Light’s locks. He slowly moved Light’s head up and down, spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Light’s face was blood red with humiliation and lust, it was perfect.

L bit his lip as Light took him all the way down his throat, refusing to be the one to break first. He picked up the journal again, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the work in front of him. “‘ Ryuzaki kept calling me good boy, telling me I was taking him so well, and never had anyone ever made him feel as good as I was. I felt so overwhelmed. I had never felt such extreme desire for anyone, but I think at that moment I would do anything for him.’ Do you still want to hear all that? Still want me to call you a good boy, and tell you you are taking me so well?”

Light groaned around L’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sent a shiver up his spine and L suppressed a needy whine on his end. After years of doing this, Light knows exactly how to push him to the very edge-- to give him so much and yet not enough.

“‘ My memory gets a little fuzzy here, but Ryuzaki laid down on the desk, and he grabbed me by the thighs so hard I think I would have had bruises in reality. I grabbed him by the throat and rode him on the desk. A part of me was worried, because the conference room in the library was all glass, but also my head was so hazy and it felt so good.’” L pressed a thumb against his lips, “Had Light fucked himself on toys at this point?”

He pulled off of L, slowly stroking him as he thought about it, “I think at that time I had. I only realized I was not straight shortly after high school, and my sexual drive moved pretty fast after that.”

“‘Shortly after high school’, shortly after meeting me, right?” L smirked. Light opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but just narrowed his eyes.

“Such an egomaniac you are,” Light scoffed, “Not everything is about you.”

“No, not everything. But this is.” L reached under their bed and pulled out a box of toys and lube. He casually tossed the bottle and a large blue dildo in front of Light, “Stretch yourself open with that. I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Like you have earned that privilege yet.” L leaned forward (careful to not fall off the edge) and grabbed Light by the chin, forcing him to look L in the eye, “You’re going to open yourself up on that cock, and when your slutty hole is ready for me, you can ride me like in your fantasies.”

He could almost see the blood rushing to Light’s ears-- being literally talked down to-- condescended and scolded like a child. And yet, his pupils were blown all the way out, L barely seeing the amber color of Light’s eyes, and his jeans and underwear were, of course, already halfway to his ankles.

Light took the tip of the toy and fucked his mouth in and out with it, eyes never leaving L’s. He was already 3 fingers deep inside of himself, lewdly moaning around the cock very intentionally.

“This is a good look for you,” L remarked, breathily, slowly stroking his own cock.

Light suctioned the dick to the hardwood, and hovered over it, teasing his hole with the tip, “Well, if you are going to keep calling me a slut- fuck… I might as well lean into it.” Light bottomed out on the toy, one hand running through his hair, another sucking on two fingers as he slowly moved. Light, flushed and fucked out and using himself, was the pinnacle of sex and desire-- L began to question his decision about who exactly this was a punishment for.

“Ngh, this cock is so big , L… But it doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.” Light dragged his teeth across the bottom of his lip, pointed looking at L’s cock, now leaking precum. Light knew he was getting to L. He knew exactly how he looked and exactly what L was thinking.

Fucker. Two can play at that.

L slowed down his own movements, raising an eyebrow at Light, “A common whore like yourself would be satisfied with any cock inside of him. You want mine so bad? Close your eyes, think…” L held the book open with one hand, “‘ I feel like I am going crazy. I am supposed to want this stupid bastard dead. And yet all I want right now are my hands on him and his on mine-’” Light groaned, finally touching his neglected aching cock, “‘-and it is so hard to focus on bringing him down, when the entire time I am dreaming about Ryuzaki’s voice in my ear, and my hands around his throat, and his tongue and mouth on me everywhere . I may just have to take care of him so I stop feeling this way... ’ My my, Kira... ” Light groaned at the name, “I thought you would be a bit more careful than to let your inner thoughts so out in the open like this. What would have happened if someone had gotten a hold of this?”

“I- Fuck- Academic rivalries are not uncommon....”

“I wanted to sentence you to death and you still could not stop thinking about me inside of you-”

“Oh shit L…”

“-or my hands on your cock or my fingers stretching you wide open. You still want me to whisper in your ear and moan , telling you what a good boy you are, right?”

“Yes… yes I want that L…”

L tutted, “And yet you aren’t a good boy. Desperate and begging… Writing down naughty thoughts and fantasies about someone who you wanted to die?” L shook his head, casually tossing the book aside. He reached for his own cock again, slowly stroking it watching Light fall apart, giving himself dual sensations, “Kira needs to make up his mind about what he wants. Because I don’t think he is good at all.”

“ L please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me on your cock.”

“Why would I allow that?”

Light stopped his movements on the dildo, only slowly stroking his cock at the same speed as L was his own, “I am not a good boy, I am a cock-slut for you, and only ever you. Fuck me please,” Light begged, broken and desperate.

L stood up and grabbed Light’s hands, pulling him off of the toy. He brushed the hair out of Light’s eyes and pulled Light on top of him, “So good, Kira. You don’t have to be a good boy for me, you can just be my good slut.”

He kissed L, hard, biting his bottom lip as he lined himself up on L’s dick and sunk down on him.

“ Fuck, you feel so much better than that cheap plastic,” Light straddled L properly, pressing his hands against L’s chest as he rode him, not wasting anytime picking up speed.

“Such a good whore for me, Kira,” L said, kissing his wrist, “You really do ride cock like you get paid to do it.”

“I know,” Light said, breathy and fucked.

L huffed, “A bit cocky, aren-”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up,” Light said, pressing down on L’s pressure points, his fingertips pushing hard enough into his throat it will surely leave marks against his pale skin.

L’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and Light moved his hips faster, L snapping back up to meet his thrusts, which quickly became sloppy as black dots began dancing in the corners of his eyes and his lungs started burning. His eyes welled up with tears and his entire body was on fire, his limbs going limp. He felt the white, hot edge so close and tangible. Every thrust felt like a rattle of electricity hitting every nerve and every part of his consciousness so closely and he just needed more -- Light relented, moving his hands away from his throat. L eyes snapped open wide and he coughed, taking heavy breaths. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and he dug his fingertips into Light’s waist, harshly grabbing him by the hips.

“L? I’m sorry, you told me you would tap out if-”

“Kira, more-- again-- now.” L commanded, and Light did not hesitate. He grabbed him by the throat and put his fingers in L’s mouth for good measure. Light was riding him with expert pace and precision, his lower body strength and years of running paying off. L’s legs trembled, and he used the last bit of his unfucked mind to dig his nails into Light’s hips and rock him faster and faster on his cock, reaching that beautiful and terrible and intense edge.

“ Ah- L! ” Light comes only a few seconds before L himself, moaning around Light’s fingers as he loosened his grip, but still only letting a fraction of the air healthy for the human brain into his head.

Light did not move himself off of L immediately. He moved his hand away from his throat, but kept small pressure on his neck with one of his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” L muttered. Light said nothing. L opened his eyes, tapping him. “Light?”

Light blinked, looking back, “Sorry, was feeling your pulse.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

L smiled softly, “Don’t want me dead anymore?”

“Sometimes. Certainly not like this, it’s too personal.”

“What, killing me while my cock is in your ass is too close for comfort?”

“Something like.” Light smirked and pressed a soft kiss against L’s lips.

After cleaning up, Light told L he wanted to burn the dream journal to prevent further embarrassment.

“Over my dead body.” L said, holding the notebook just out of reach.

Light smirked, “I have no problem arranging that.”

#my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #death note #prompt fills #asks #bored-bitch-stuff #more writing to come! #also I apologize that this is so long and it took so long to write ;-; #but either way!! #enjoy!!

[loving-all-for-loki]

Voiceless Love Chapter 6: Downfall

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3452

Warnings: angst, lots and lots of angst, some Loki fluff, swearing

A/N: I’m sorry. I cried while writing this and had to take a break to gather myself. It’s a rough one

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @buckylokisimp @daddysfavoritesexkitten @lokiyoulittle @magicalpieex

You spend three days in bed with Loki resting after the Bucky incident. Even though you’ve been able to get up, Loki refuses to let you do anything and forces you to lay all day with him serving you hand and foot. The team watches in disbelief as Loki makes you lunch, gets you your clothes, and even slipped your fingernails once. They find excuses to walk past Loki’s room to spy on you two, but they always catch Loki reading to you or you asleep.

“You can’t be really mad at him. He’s taking care of her,” Natasha states. “Yes, that may be the case, but what are his intentions? She’s not a super soldier or a government trained assassin. She can’t defend herself if Reindeer Games decides to pull any tricks,” Tony pipes in.

“Tony’s right,” Bucky says, “She’s not a superhero in the sense we are.”

“You boys are so paranoid. Obviously, they got closer while we were gone. Is that such a bad thing? Loki finding someone who calms him and makes him kinder?”

“Yes.”

Nat rolls her eyes at Tony and Bucky, sitting down on the lounge seats. 

“What are we discussing? I heard my brother's name.”

Thor enters the room which gains everyone’s attention. Steve and Sam put down their sandwiches and tune into the conversation.

“We’re discussing Loki’s intentions with Y/N.” Nat informs.

“Oh, it is very sweet isn’t it?”

“Not to Tony.”

“It’s like he’s grooming her!”

Everyone groans in disgust. 

“Tony, I think you fail to realize how hard it is for Loki to connect to people, especially Midgardians yourself.”

“I don’t. I know he’s an arrogant prick whose head is shoved up his ass.”

“Yes, he thinks highly of himself, but he’s capable of feelings beyond pride and rage.”

“Most people aren’t like you Tony,” Steve jokes, which earns him a hard look from the billionaire.

“But with Y/N? Someone who’s so defenseless and vulnerable?” Bucky adds in.

-

Loki comes in with a bowl of mac n’ cheese, setting it before you.

“I had to get Thor to help me. I’m very good with Midgard technology. I’m not even sure what a microwave really is.”

You chuckle inside at Loki’s innocence and start eating the macaroni before he joins you on the bed, his arm resting over your shoulders. You lean your head against his as the two of you watch some history documentary Loki was intrigues by. Since you’ve been in bed for three days, you’ve only been watching shows and movies you like so you gave Loki a chance. He felt bad then complained about poor Midgard entertainment, but as soon as you showed him the history channel, he changed his mind.

You take your pen beside you and grab Loki’s hand that’s gently rubbing your back. On the side of his index, you write thank you for everything.

“Oh course, little one. You need to be well rested.”

Do you think I could get my own water?

Loki looks beside him to see your glass empty and sighs.

“I suppose you can.”

You smile up at him before getting out of bed. It’s weird to feel the cold floors on your feet after spending so much time under thick warm blankets. You shuffle your way over to the other side of the bed and take the glass. Loki keeps an eye on you as you make your way around, ready to pounce at grab you if you fall over and pass out. You give him a smile and pat on the shoulder before making your way to the door.

Taking your time, you walk down the hallway and hear your name come up in conversation. You stop right before the entrance to the living room, your hands shaking as you grip the glass cup tightly.

“But with Y/N? Someone who’s so defenseless and vulnerable?”

“I know it seems what you would say sketchy, but Loki’s intentions are honorable.”

“And Buck, you’ve seen the way she is with you. She holds onto your metal arm. She’s not afraid of most things other people are,” Steve adds.

Listening to them discuss you like they know you is irritating. Bucky goes on to talk about how weak and fragile you are and the others don’t disagree. They add comments about Loki that infuriate you. ‘He’s dangerous’. ‘He’s using her’. ‘He’s tricking her’. It didn’t feel like manipulation when he made you tea last night. It didn’t feel like manipulation when he explained book plots you didn’t understand. Why did they see him for someone he isn’t? Why do they still hold New York against him as if it was completely him?

You get pulled out of your thoughts when you hear Bucky speak again.

“I don’t like that he went after someone so innocent and defenseless like her.”

You step into their sight as soon as the words leave Bucky’s mouth. Everyone turns to stare at you, realizing you heard them talking about you. Bucky’s eyes go wide at the hurt expression written across your face, realizing he had messed up.

“How much did you hear?” Steve asks.

You slowly and nervously shake your head in disgust. Bucky takes a step forward to come near you but you stumble over your feet as you back up, falling and landing on your wrists. Tears start forming in your eyes as you look back up at the team, specifically Bucky who looks likes he just ran over someone’s dog.

“Y/N, you know I didn’t mean-”

You shake your head and run back down the hallway, ignoring Bucky’s pleads and the Avengers trying to diffuse the situation. Your vision was so clouded by the tears that you miss Loki coming up behind you and run straight into him.

“Woah, woah,” he gasps, grabbing your forearm as you stumble, “what’s-”. He notices the tears slowly falling down your face. “What did they do?”

You shake your head and push past him, retreating into yout room and under your blankets. Loki storms straight to the Avengers instead of with you.

“Tell me what in the nine realms you did to make her cry?”

The team is stunned as Loki raises his voice. There’s fury raging in his eyes, popping his veins out in anger. 

“She overheard something. It’s fine.” Sam says.

“Then tell me why she looks like someone hit her dog?”

Bucky puffs up his chest and walks straight up to Loki in a threatening manner, but Loki doesn’t react even an inch.

“Why do you care, huh? Why are you so attached to her? I thought you hated humans! That’s why you attacked New York right? You wanted to take control of us ‘weak humans’, but you failed, so what gives you the right to take her?”

“Are you implying she is weak?”

Bucky stays silent and holds his stoic look. 

“You are. That’s what you were saying, wasn’t it? She heard you call her weak.”

Loki scoffs at the soldier and looks to the other avengers for a sign of confirmation. They don’t meet his eyes with trigger alarms in his brain.

“You are all despicable. You know nothing about her. She is not as vulnerable as you think she is.”

“That’s not the point, Reindeer Games,” Tony cuts in, “The point is what are your intentions with her? Why do you want her so bad?”

“What? You think I’m manipulating or messing with her in some way. Is it impossible to imagine me liking someone’s presence?”

“Honestly, yes. We do. We’ve seen you do it in New York. Why can’t you do it now?”

There’s a deafening silence looming over the room. Loki’s eyes go cold as he clenches his fist, trying to not knock Tony out on the spot. Bucky still stands in his face, searching for some kind of vulnerable moment, but all he sees is fury in Loki’s face. He realizes they may be wrong in this situation. No one gets angry like this over nothing. They have never seen him like this before, so much so that even Thor takes a step away from his seething brother. Like nothing happened, Loki swivels and rushes away down the hall, but passes his room and goes straight to yours to find you balling underneath your sheets.

His anger does not go away, but only lessens as he removes the barrier between you two. He sees you curled into yourself, crying as if you had to get rid of every ounce of water in your body. No human has ever seemed so in need comfort to him before than now. Picking you up, he adjusts in bed with you on his lap, gripping your hands tight to his neck, burying your face in his chest. Loki pats your head and shushes you, trying to calm you down while his own burdens flash through his mind.

“I am absolutely outraged by those people,” he says, “how dare they speak like that about you. Do not listen, little one. You are stronger than you know and they are not aware. They do not know you like I know you.”

You continue to sob into him but the tears slow down. Heavy gasping turns into staggered breathing as your heart races less.

“I cannot fathom their incompetence. Pathetic Midgardians. I don’t think they’ll ever forgive me for my advances.”

“I forgive you.”

Loki snaps his head to look down at you, who is staring up at him, face flushed with tears. You had spoken.

Your voice. It’s unlike anything he’s ever heard and he only heard three words. Three so very important words he never thought he’d hear anyone say and you said it with such meaning. Such kindness and heart. It sounded like the heavens themselves opened up and relinquished its glory to him. He felt his body get a rush of warmth flowing through him, one that reminded him of being home with Frigga.

“Thank you,” he says, “I fear you may be the only one.”

He’s scared to say anything about you speaking and freak you out. If he has to go another lifetime without hearing your voice again, he’d never forgive himself.

“I’m tired,” you say sheepishly.

“Then go to bed, darling. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

-

You wake the next day to the sounds of crashing. Manly voices you have never heard before boom. Springing awake, you forget about Loki falling asleep next to you and accidentally elbow him in the face. “What the-”

“Loki, I’m sorry! I forgot-”

“It’s okay, little one. Accidents happen,” he groans.

The two of you get up off the bed for you to change. With a flick of the neck, Loki uses his magic to change into a three piece suit as he usually wears. You come out with a deep green overalls that makes him smile.

“I like it when you wear my colors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hearing your voice in the morning reminds him why he’s around. You’re so perfect in so many ways and that angelic noise only proves that more and more. The sounds of a male booming voice brings him out of his paradise. Taking your hand, the two of you enter the main room where the other Avengers are gathered with a man you’ve never seen before talking to Thor.

“Heimdall,” Loki announces, “what are you doing here?”

The man turns to see Loki standing next to you and doesn’t miss the interlocking of your hands. He turns to Thor who gives a weak smile and whispers something for only him to hear before looking back to you and the god.

“I am here to take you back to Asgard.”

“Father has requested you to come home and get punished for your actions on New York since you have been spending time here. He wants to take proper precautions on behalf of Asgard,” Thor adds.

“That’s ridiculous. He can’t beg for me now.”

“He can, brother, as I am afraid.”

You take Loki’s collar and bring his ear closer to you.

“Does that mean I won’t get to see you?”

“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t let them take me.”

Steve looks between Bucky and Tony who are staring wide eyed at your interaction with the god. Even Clint and Nat stare in awe as you have a private conversation, clearly speaking to Loki.

“What is happening?” Heimdall asks.

“She’s never spoken before,” Thor whispers.

“And she’s speaking to Loki? Why him?”

“I’ve said ‘I’m afraid’ many times and I’m going to say it again. I’m afraid they’ve bonded greatly. This will be an issue if All-Father intends to keep Loki in prison on Asgard.”

“Wonderful.”

Loki walks away from you and takes Thor’s arm, pulling him away to the side.

“Do you really expect me to fall for this?”

“For what?”

“Father wants me home. I know all he wants is to throw me in some cage for eternity. I’m not going no matter how much you plead or even if Father wants to come down here himself and drag me through the Bifrost.””

“There’s nothing I can do. Heimdall had strict orders.”

You walk over to Bucky who puts a protective arm around you, trying to ignore the pain of being second to comfort. He kisses the top of your forehead which you smile for. A glimmer of hope rests in Bucky’s heart that you still have feelings for him despite spending all your time with Loki. You hold to him tight, hugging him around his waist, in anxiousness. You can’t imagine if Loki is gone, the one person you trust the most, you haven't hurt before.

“I can’t leave Y/N,” Loki whispers, “I don’t think you understand that.”

“Brother, I understand your connection to her, but I-”

“Don’t say you have no choice. You can go back to Father and tell him that I’m not coming.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“There’s no point in arguing about this, Loki. You have to go home.”

“What will happen to her, then? She’ll be stuck here with people who treat her like a child.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s a big girl.”

“Not to them. To them she’s weak and useless. She’ll never be used for her powers properly. She’ll never be treated as an equal.”

“I’ll make sure that she does.”

“Brother, I’m the god of lies. I can see straight through you. You’re not going to do anything but sit by and watch them.”

“I’ll watch out for her.”

Loki’s chest rises as he takes in a deep breath, knowing his brother won’t do anything. He contemplates his options: either go with Heimdall or stay here and face worse punishment when he sees his Father one day.

“How long will I be gone for?”

“My hope is a month or two, but most likely two or three years.”

“I can’t leave her that long.”

“Then I will fight for your freedom or escape every day.”

Loki takes a look at you hugging Bucky. The exact image in front of his is what he fear most: losing you to the soldier who looks at you the same way he does. He knows he has no choice if he wants to face a lesser punishment.

“Fine. Give me a moment to say goodbye.”

“Of course.”

Loki walks to you who lets go of Bucky and hugs him. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks with you over to the entrance of the hall where no one can hear you.

“I have to go, darling.”

“Please, don’t.”

The team watches as you open your mouth and speak to Loki, proving to them there was a situation at hand with your attachment to Loki.

“Oh no,” Tony mumbles.

“We’re in trouble,” Nat agreed.

Bucky tries to drown out the anger and instead, a wave of depression over comes him. He knows he messed up with you, but seeing how quick you moved to the god makes him sad, knowing he could have had that with you had he not gotten hurt or even gone on that mission.

“I have no choice, Y/N, but I promise whatever happens, I will come back.”

“What do you mean ‘whatever happens’?” 

“There is a good chance I’m being locked away for some time. Thor said that if that is the case, he will help me get out and return to you.”

“You promise you’ll come back?”

“There is not a soul in the nine realms that can stop me from coming to you, because you are my home and you can’t rip my heart away from you.”

Silver tongue. You knew they called him that for a reason.

“I promise, my darling.” 

“I’m scared if you don’t come back.”

“I know. I am too. I fear that I’ll never forget you and spend the rest of my days in a cell longing for your touch.”

“Please, don't’ say that.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, “I take it back. I’ll see you in good time.”

Loki gives you a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You start crying on his shoulder, leaving dark spots on his suit. Before walking to Thor, Loki lifts your chin up with his hand, connecting his lips to yours. 

You taste like strawberries and wine. Loki thinks to himself that he could get drunk on your lips all the time, always thirsting for you. You’re so soft, like floating on a cloud. He thought your voice was the closest thing to nirvana, but he was wrong. He is just the same. He tastes like whiskey and is sensual with his touch. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach flying around, fluttering their wings and bumping into the insides of you. A chill runs down your spine as the two of you hold each other. You never want to stop kissing him.

Thor coughs under his breath, distracting you and Loki, breaking your kiss. Loki turns to his brother with sadness in his eyes that every person sees. The Avengers look at one another, seeing how painful this is for him, but they don’t dare to look at you. Tears roll down your face, flushing you over. They’ve never seen anyone look so desperate for help. It breaks them, but they don’t dare go against Odin’s word.

Loki walks over to Heimdall who places a hand on his shoulder. He turns back to face you across the room.

“Goodbye, my love.”

In a flash, the two are gone, leaving you a blubbering mess in front of the heroes. Bucky takes a step forward to console you, but you fall backwards shaking your head.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but Loki needs to take responsibility. He’s a criminal.”

“No!” You scream.

Everyone is taken back by the anger and desperation in your voice. Nat and Sam share a look, in awe of your vocal power. Bucky goes wide eyed, staring at you whose eyebrows are furrowed and mouth wide open. You’re choking on your own breath as you hyperventilate. No one dares to say anything as they urge you to break the silence, not wanting to miss a single thing you say.

“You don’t get to say shit!” You yell. “You don’t know him! You don’t get to say ‘he’s a criminal’! He’s a good man and you all are disappointing children! You’re children! Only mature people don’t try to hurt those who hurt them! They understand and listen and make them better! You’re only out to destroy! You’re not heroes fighting for vengeance! You’re villains wanting revenge! You disgust me! The way you treat him and me, so don’t say anything about Loki! People say things happen for a reason, so when I punch you in the face for ever saying anything bad about him ever again, remember I had a reason!”

You turn to walk away from the paralyzed group. They try to take in everything you said, shocked by your first words to them being rage over Loki. There’s no words they have left in them as you’ve taken all of them, except for Bucky. He stand there, heart shattering in a million pieces from watching you pour your heart out for a man who did his people wrong, for a man who is a war dictator. 

“Why do you care so much about him?” He screams at you.

You stop in your tracks, facing them with your face full of pain and sorrow.

“Because I love him.

#loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #marvel x reader #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reaser #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fiction #lovingallforloki #voicelesslove

[all-might-can-smash-me]

The Truth

Toshinori Yagi/All Might x Reader

Summary: you and the number one hero hit it off as you begin your new job as a nurse beside Recovery Girl...but the Kamino incident unveils the truth about your boyfriend

Sorry for typos

Masterlist

You could remember how nervous you were as you paced around your apartment. A fingernail was currently being crushed between your teeth, a slight shake throughout your whole body as you waited....and waited.....finally the sound of the mail slot clinking and the mail hitting the floor grabbed your attention, your body soon thrown to the ground, hands attack the envelope that held U.A. high school emblem on it, hands already ripping the paper envelope impatiently. Though as you were trying to unfold the letter within, a disc plopped down onto the ground, a hologram now displayed before you

“Hello! We are pleased to tell you that your request for a position as one of our nurses has been accepted! We look forward to you joining our U.A. family this semester.” Spoke out the calm voice of Principal Nezu, the hologram soon shutting off, leaving you to sit there, shock evident upon your face as you stared off into space, those words bouncing around within your skull until finally you let a happy squeal, hands unfolding the paper within your hands to read the information listed for you. This was really happening, your first job and at your Alma mater too. It was a dream come true as you ran to your fridge, a magnet already holding down the reminders for you on the reflective metal surface. The first day of work however only set your body in a mess of jitters as you looked to yourself in the mirror, adjusting your Hero costume as you looked at your reflection.

Your quirk was a healing quirk, your hands were like a clock, it could speed up the healing process of wounds and injuries, but your quirk only worked on broken bones, cuts, scrapes, and bruises. When it came to diseases and such, it was useless and if the injury you were trying to heal was too bad, sometimes they couldn’t heal all the way or heal at all. Your quirk was still valuable and U.A. was pleased to see you apply for a position, especially Recovery Girl.

With a quick sigh you seemed everything perfect as you grabbed your bag, rushing out of your apartment, door locked behind your with a quick twist of your keys before you rushed to the streets below, taking a bus to U.A. which fun enough, U.A. students were chatting and talking away on the bus around you. Though just as you thought your nerves were cooled off....they were awakened as you stood before the gates of U.A. taking in a nervous gulp before stepping through the huge entrance, making your way up those steps. It felt like you were once again a little fish in a big sea on your first day of high school, but you had to remind yourself that you were now a school nurse. You maneuvered your way through the familiar U.A. campus, finally entering the nurses office where you couldn’t help but let a grin crawl onto your face as your sight landed upon Recovery Girl.

“Look at you!” Came out her voice, you leaning down to except her hug she offered to you. “It seems like yesterday you could only heal a single scratch, but now? Oh how skilled you’ve become! You are going to be a good asset to this school.” She gushed out as she sat down upon a stool, you setting aside your things before sitting down yourself. Recovery Girl to you was like your campus mother, she guided you, instructed you, taught you everything you knew throughout your years at U.A. With her, you wouldn’t be sitting there with your dream job. Though your conversation was interrupted as a door opened.

“Recovery Girl, I have some papers for Midoriya...” All Might had begun to boom out, though his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on you who only stared back with silence. It had totally slipped your mind that the number 1 Hero was also a new member of this years faculty and staff. “Recovery Girl, who is this” he said as he closed the door, hands going to straighten out the penstripe suit he wore, that iconic grin upon his face. You probably would have been excited upon meeting him.....but you weren’t really the kind of ‘SMASH! PUNCH! POW!’ Hero lover, you know? Your idol was Recovery Girl growing up, that’s who you always aspired to be.

“This is my second in command around here.” She said with a little laugh as she glanced to you, giving a loving pat to your leg. “She was a former student here as well, now she’s here to help me heal all these kids that keep breaking their bones....” she said with a raised brow to All Might, but he was alright offering you a bow, you standing up to return it.

“Hello Miss! It is very nice to meet you! I hope to see you around campus this year!” He said with a laugh before turning around, beginning to head back to the door, but froze before rushing back, handing the papers he was originally there to hand over before exiting the nurses office, you now seated back down.

After that, you seemed to run into the number 1 Hero everywhere. In the hallways, the nurses office, the teachers lounge, the cafeteria, training grounds, everything. He would stop to talk to you, tell you corny jokes and try to make small talk, but you were always quick to leave because you were busy, you did however let him sit with you at the teacher’s area in the cafeteria to eat with you, but he was always quick to leave then though. Finally he asked for your phone number, which you gave him because why not? You did enjoy his company and little conversations. Well he always texted you good morning, always checked up on you, and always closed off the day with a goodnight. It was nice to wake up and go to sleep with those little meaningful text messages from him.

But then he asked you out on a date.....which you declined at first. It destroyed him, but you had pointed out that it would probably be hard to even have a normal dinner date because he was...well....All Might. So then he asked you again, but instead of going to a restaurant, he would cook something at his house, which then you accepted. After you accepted, thats when it set in. You, out all people, were going on a date with All Might. THE All Might, it was all exhilarating to think about, especially when after school on a Friday you were getting dressed for your little house dinner date with All Might. You slipped on a simple dress, but the bare minimum of makeup on and placed on a pair of heels before making way to his home, where you now stood at the door, giving a knock, but before you could hit your knuckle upon the door a second time, the door was flung open, revealing the massive hero before you. The date went well actually, his jokes making you laugh, stories told and shared, memories of high school.

The relationship continued on the down low, he would come to your house or you would go to his....but there was one issue. He never stayed for long. Heck! It had been months and he still hadn’t even hinted at wanting to stay the night....he always left quickly after a few hours. You didn’t mind though....it’s just....sometimes you just wanted him to lift you up and sweep you away to your room, the door to be closed shut to the outside world.

Then the Kamino incident happened. You were recruited along with Recovery Girl to be on the sidelines if one of the heroes got seriously injured and needed someone to patch them up quickly. You could vividly remember clutching onto Recovery Girl’s hand, another holding onto a handkerchief she had handed you to wipe away your worried tears as you watched All Might begin his fight with All for One, her hand comfortingly rubbing your lower back as she watched on with you, the media and civilians all in shock and screaming as the number one hero stepped in. Though suddenly....a man took All Might’s place. Tall and lanky, those eyes sucken in, the hero costume now huge and hanging off of his body. He continued on though, finally defeating his nemesis, the media pushing past you and Recovery Girl to get their shots, civilians cheering on All Might befor ehim, despite lacking his iconic appearance. You didn’t even get a chance to even get a better look of him before he was rushed off to the hospital, you and Recovery Girl being beckoned into a car to be brought there too to begin healing the injuries of the heroes that fought.

You found yourself nervously standing before All Might’s hospital room door, hand shakily and hesitantly reaching for the door handle, but it was already being tugged open, an old man standing before you who had bandages wrapped around his head, you knew though that it was Gran Torino that stood before you.

“Oh uh.....you must be the girlfriend.” He said as he sucked in a breath through his teeth, casting a glance over his shoulder before looking back up to you. “Go easy on him alright? Or at least heal him first? Or I can give him an ass whooping for lying to you if you want, it’s Ok to tell me sweetheart.” He spoke out, you only giving a shy smile before nodding your head.

“No, that won’t be necessary, but I will admit that there is a lot we are going to have to....discuss...” you spoke out quietly as you stepped out of his way, he only giving a shake of his head as he stepped past you.

“Here’s my card, in case you change your mind.” He spoke before reaching a hand up to hand you the piece of card stock, which you only gave a soft laugh before grabbing it, shoving it into the pocket of your hero costume before finally stepping in, door being softly shut behind you. You couldn’t find the strength to look at him before grabbing the chart that was placed at the end of the hospital bed, fingers flipping through it and scanning over the information before placing it back.

“I....I’m sorry...” soon whispered out the voice of the man who sat on the bed, you finally looking up to him, tears already pricking at your eyes as tugged a chair of to the side of his bed, hands already hovering over a small area of his body, beginning to activate your quirk on the little injuries on his body. “I was afraid to tell you....I was afraid that you wouldn’t think of me the same, you know? To know that the symbol of peace is just some...guy” he said with a sigh as he finally looked up and to your face, though your face only scrunched you, twitching as you tried to hold back the tears that wanted to flow. You wanted to say something, anything, but the strength wasn’t there as you finally lifted your eyes to look into his. A pained look stretched upon his face upon seeing those tears well up in your eyes.

“So months of dating and me sharing everything about myself and pouring my heart and soul to you wasn’t enough to trust me?” You whispered out, a single blink finally letting those tears roll down your face as you brought your hands up to your face to wipe away your tears quickly. “And just some guy....you should really listen to yourself..” you said with a little shake of your head as you bit your lip. “To me your everything and I watched you fight in a situation where you could have died...you could have died without me even knowing the real you.” You pointed out, which he only guiltily looked away, a sigh escaping his mouth. Though you only took in a deep breath before getting up “Your right arm will need more time to heal on its own, but I managed to heal your other arm.” You whispered out, already turning to step out.

“My name is Toshinori Yagi.” Soon piped up his voice, hating the fact he couldn’t just reach out and grab you and pull you back. “I was originally quirkless but I received my quirk One for All” he continued on, you slowly turning around to look at him. “I always cooked those soups because well...my stomach is fucked.” He continued on, you now facing him with your arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “And I love you to the moon and back....I was such a dork in my puffed form trying to get you to like me and get your number....” he said as he let his face cringe at the memories. “I wanted to tell you but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He whispered out as he look to the bandages around his arms, though you stepped to the side of his bed, sitting back down again. You hesitantly reached a hand to caress the side of his gaunt face, Toshinori letting a sigh as he leaned into your touch that he was all too familiar with....but it felt like for the first time he was actually feeling it. “I could never really....do much because I had a time limit on using my form...” he continued on as those blue eyes stared into yours, that guilty look still upon his facial features.

“Toshinori....it may sadden me that you felt like you couldn’t open up about this side of you to me, but know this...I am so relieved that you still here in front of me.” You whispered out as a few more tears rolled down your face as you leaned forward, a gentle kiss being pressed to his cheek. “Now get some rest...Toshinori Yagi...” you said, smiling at his real name rolling off your tongue for the first time “I’ll be right here if you need anything.....” and with that you leaned back into your chair, a soft smile now upon your face as you wiped away the stragglers of tears upon your face.

#toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi imagine #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi headcanons #all might x you #all might x reader #all might x oc #all might headcanons #all might imagine #all might #toshinori yagi #toshinori headcanons #bnha toshinori #bnha all might #mha toshinori #mha all might #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha headcanons #bnha oneshots #mha fanfiction #mha

[swarmkeepers]

riz & gorgug for #5! ✨

5. heard you tell the same story multiple times but doesn’t point it out to you when you excitedly bring it up to them again + riz & gorgug (prompts linked here)

(starting immediately post-fhsy, and a little more angsty than the other prompt fills so far because it deals with some of the aftermath of spring break. sometimes friendship is late nights and brownie recipes and old stories.)

There are forty minutes left until Elmville when Riz digs his claws into the headrest of the passenger’s seat and clambers over the seat backs to sit shotgun in the Hangvan. 

Everyone else is asleep, or as Riz suspects in Tracker’s case as she stays oddly still as a human pillow for Kristen in the backseat, at least pretending to. But Riz is quest-restless even though they’re heading home, and Gorgug’s awake because he’s driving, and both of their darkvision light up the street ahead for them. 

Gorgug doesn’t look surprised when Riz lands in the seat next to him. Of course. Because his whole party knows that Riz doesn’t sleep, or at least has to be told to, or has to know that there are hit points to be regenerated and a fight to be alert for the next day. 

Streetlights speed by and Gorgug brings the van to a smooth stop at a light, accelerating smoothly up afterwards to not jostle anyone in the backseat. He’s practiced, easy, calm. Meanwhile, Riz’s thoughts are a messy turbulent maelstrom. He can’t sleep, and after everything in the Nightmare Forest if he never saw a bed again it’d be too soon. But, forget sleep, his brain isn’t even letting him relax right now, and Riz is struggling to figure out the questions that are on the tip of his tongue. His fingers itch for a ball of red string, trying to figure out why he wanted to be up here with the passenger seat and the windshield and Gorgug.

“What’s being a barbarian like?” he asks quietly, and Gorgug doesn’t exactly startle but does tip his head to the side curiously. 

“Can I ask why?” 

“I’m—angry,” Riz says, surprising himself, but it feels true enough. “I killed Kalina, but she said she was with me my whole life. And I hate that.” He wants to hiss, to bare his teeth and make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but it’s not Gorgug he’s mad at. “Sometimes I wonder if I should use that to. Hit things.” 

“Okay,” Gorgug says. 

“And you—you know about that. About being angry, and not being. As comfortable. Or at least you’ve said stuff like that.” Riz picks at his long fingernails, pretending to be nonchalant and not looking up to see if Gorgug’s insight is better than his shitty attempt at deception. 

“Tell me about why you wanted to be a rogue?” Gorgug asks instead, and Riz understands it’s not really a question. He trusts Gorgug. He thinks about it. 

“Um, my mom was always a detective, I guess. And my dad was a spy, but I guess I didn’t know that.” Riz spends a lot of his time thinking. He’s realizing he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about himself. Maybe he needs to make a new conspiracy board. “Uh. I guess the first time I ever saw Penny sneak attack someone was really cool, I definitely knew I wanted to do that.”

Gorgug makes a soft hm? noise that asks Riz to keep talking. “Because I was little and Penny’s little too, and we were at the mall and some asshole catcalled her? And oh, man, you should have seen her, Penny was probably an Aguefort freshman then? But she told me to hide behind this vending machine and—”

--

They’re all the way home, with the Mordred Manor crew taking their stuff out of the trunk while Gorgug and Riz keep talking. Riz finished his story hurriedly as they pulled into the driveway, ending with Penny teaching Riz to make brownie bars at Strongtower after the sneak attack incident and being so cool and badass and nonchalant about making that guy’s nose gush with blood. He’s talking fast and gesturing big like he doesn’t usually, caught up in a story that he can tell well and that he hadn’t thought of in a while. Him and his rogue friends are tiny badasses. 

“That was a good story,” Gorgug says. “Rogues seem pretty cool.” 

Riz grins, all his fangs out and happy in the driveway of the manor. “Thanks, dude.” 

“I think you can be angry and not a barbarian,” Gorgug says, gently. 

And “Okay,” Riz says, gentled. 

--

It’s the tail end of one of Fabian’s all-out summertime ragers. The Bad Kids are in a big cuddle pile that barely fits on the picnic blanket on the lawn of Seacaster Manor, and Gorgug’s at the very bottom. Riz is tipsy on half a beer (goblin metabolisms are not good and it’s not his fault) and he thinks Gorgug looks a little lonely, lying on his stomach and tapping at his crystal with all the wind knocked out of him from everyone lying on top. He scrambles down the pile of friend-bodies and sits on the grass by Gorgug. Riz racks his brain for something good to say. He doesn’t want Gorgug to be lonely, not when Riz is going to be up all night and Riz is usually the lonely one.

“Di’ I ever tell you about the first time I saw someone get sneak attacked,” Riz says, words big and bubbly and coming out too fast. He doesn’t care, he’s buzzed and happy and Gorgug looks like he could use a good story.

“I don’t remember, tell me,” Gorgug says, putting his crystal down face down so its glow goes dark. 

“Oh man, you’re going to love this story. It was, like, me ‘n Penny at the mall, and there was this real asshole of a dude, and I didn’t know Penny went to Aguefort but she took out this knife? And it was like she flew at him—”

At some point in the story Gorgug falls asleep, and Riz is more pleased than annoyed. He looks cozy. And not lonely. 

--

“What’s this, The Ball?” Fabian asks when Riz takes a fantasy tupperware of brownie bars out of his briefcase and puts it on the the table in the cafeteria.

“They’re sneak attack brownies,” Riz says. 

It evidently does not clear up any of Fabian’s questions. 

“Penny—Penny Luckstone?—they’re her recipe, she taught me how to make them the same day I ever saw her sneak attack a dude,” he explains. “She like, jumped out from behind one of those fake potted plants at the mall and slashed him so bad with a dagger and then she didn’t even get sneak attack on it but she also socked him in the nose and it was like the coolest thing I’d ever seen. And then she just went home and washed the blood off her fist and then we made brownies.” He puts a hand on his chest. “And I’ll never forget it.” 

“Okay, The Ball,” Fabian says, but he takes a brownie. 

Next to him, Gorgug’s already halfway into his second, nodding happily and energetically so his hair flops in front of his face. “I love that story!” he says. He’s all leaned in, listening to Riz’s story.

Riz lights up—he’s no Fabian, with expensive magical gifts, and he’s no Gorgug either with little artificed trinkets and sweeping big gestures. But he’d remembered the story and remembered the brownies and wanted to make some, and he’s just glad his friends like them as much as he does.

“Because the secret ingredient is sour cream,” Riz confides. Fabian fake-sputters, sending tiny brownie crumbs everywhere, and Gorgug swats at him. 

“You were eating it just fine before!” Gorgug says indignantly. “Respect the brownie, dude!”

“You’re right, Gorgug,” Fabian sighs. He takes another bite. “They’re not bad, The Ball.” 

--

Riz only dimly registers footsteps pounding up the stairs and also a greataxe brute forcing its way through the booby traps at his office door. His crystal is abandoned on the floor next to him, the last text he sent to Gorgug still on the screen. It’d been “Having a bad time. At my office. Can you come help? Thanks, Riz” and it’d been typed out with shaky fingers as his breaths started coming too fast, the way it does whenever he lets himself be alone in his own office for too long. Riz hates it but he needs help. He forgot the period on that text and it’s been staring at him for the past few minutes. 

His brain is whirring too fast—Shadow Cat, Kalina’s eyes in his own eyes, Baron in his mirror in his own office, darkness and danger and Fabian in churning waters, he died in that forest and so did Adaine and so could any of his friends, bullets dodged and bullets fired and it’s too much, too much. His breaths are coming too fast but also not fast enough. Riz feels suffocated. 

He’s wedged himself into his own briefcase of holding, the sides squeezing his arms in a way that’s grounding and comforting when nobody else is here in his office to help.

But Gorgug is. Gorgug is here to help now. He skids to a stop in front of Riz and sits on the floor and Riz only dimly registers it out of the corner of his eye where his head is curled into his chest trying to make himself small, make himself safe. 

“Riz, can I touch you?”

Riz does his best to nod and Gorgug just wraps long lanky boy arms around his torso, gently lifting Riz out of his own briefcase and settling him in Gorgug’s lap as they sit on the floor of the office. He doesn’t let go, just squeezes tighter. It’s so much help, and also— “Can you. Talk? Anything— Anything’s fine,” Riz says. 

“Um. Sure, Riz. I guess I can. I could list a recipe? My parents have been trying to teach me to cook more, for when we go to college in a couple of years. I’m sorry, I’m not like Adaine, I don’t have lots of interesting things memorized,” Gorgug says, apologetic. Riz wants to be able to tell him not to be, but he’s a little preoccupied trying to make his brain tell his lungs to breathe.

“Uh, so these are called sneak attack brownies?” Gorgug says hesitantly. Riz realizes what he’s doing and tries to laugh, the giggle interrupting the choked breath he was trying to take.

“They’re called sneak attack brownies because they’re my badass friend’s recipe. And he learned it from his badass friend. Um, I don’t know this super well, actually, but I really should by now and I’m just going to keep talking and if it’s wrong then I guess it’s wrong? I know that you need chocolate for a brownie. And eggs and sugar. You told me the secret ingredient is sour cream.”

Riz nods, thudding his head into Gorgug’s chest a little. He takes a deep breath. Gorgug’s hoodie is soft. And he’s a good listener.

“Right, uh. After sour cream. Flour. And butter?”

“The butter’s— the butter’s unsalted,” Riz manages to eke out, voice small and quiet and mostly talking to his own knees. 

“Got you. Unsalted butter,” Gorgug agrees, easy as anything. 

“Penny said— Penny said that dude she punched’s tears were salty enough, that’s how I remember it,” Riz tells him.

“Tell me more?” Gorgug asks, and he waits patiently as Riz lets his brain just focus on a recipe, an easy recipe and a badass story. It helps, to be given something focused to do. And Riz is just so, so glad he has friends who will give that to him, will listen over and over again when Riz needs to talk. 

And Gorgug waits. And Riz tells him. 

from the prompt list linked here! i’m closing prompts from this particular list simply because i have so many excellent ones to get through

#i love these soft bois and i hope you do too! #this got. truly so long i am so sorry #the green team. the nerd boys. the people with proficiency with guns. #they're GOOD FRIENDS gorgug is a GOOD LISTENER riz makes BADASS BROWNIES #food #fantasy high #sophomore year #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #sola said #sola ficced #sola prompted #nonbinarywithaknife #sola answered #yes i know they don't get home to mordred at night but poetic license okay #also 'gorgug and riz in riz's office at night' and 'gorgug and riz in gorgug's van at night' feel like tropes for these two by now #and i'm here for it

[gumnut-logic]

It was the whimper that woke him.

The tent was warm, the heat cube doing a thorough job at staving off the ice cold of outside. The insulated material of the tent itself still rippled with the gust of arctic winds, the muted roar a continual background to everything.

But despite the winds, that soft whimper reached out in the dim light, wrapped around his heart and yanked.

Virgil sat up, the fog of sleep falling from him so abruptly it was dizzying. His brain came online throwing data at him - where he was, events up to now...who he was...

The aurora generator, Max, the Arctic...

Scott.

There was another whimper and Virgil shot to his feet, stumbling towards the sleeping form of his brother on the other side of the tent.

They had dozed while waiting, never willing to give up the opportunity to grab sleep when they could. Max ready to alert them the moment the way was clear.

His brother lay on his rack on his back, his expression one of anguish.

The sight hurt.

Virgil knew Scott had been struggling of late. The signs were all there. The recklessness, the urge to do and do and do. It tore at him, but Virgil was at a loss as to how to help.

He had tried everything he knew already and Scott continued to shrug him off, ignore his advice, his nudges. There had been moments where Virgil had thought he was going to lose his brother in the last year and he was fumbling to find a way to save him.

Save his brother.

The irony was painful.

Scott was a light sleeper. The man bounced from deep sleep to awake at the smallest nudge. The fact he was still caught in the nightmare despite Virgil’s movements was telling.

“Dad.” It was a recognisable whimper and Virgil couldn’t help but reach out.

A brush against his hair. Whispered. “Scott.”

His brother started, his eyes shooting open as he gasped awake. A frantic moment as they latched onto Virgil like a lifeline.

Hi hand continued to cradle his brother’s hair. “Hey.”

To Virgil’s astonishment, Scott blinked away tears as he obviously scrambled to compose himself. “Uh, Virgil.”

There were no words for a moment as the man threw himself into a seated position, rubbing his hands over his face.

Virgil fell back on his heels, giving his brother a moment to pull himself together.

“Want to talk about it?” Tentative and quiet.

“Not really.”

Silence and awkwardness for a moment.

“You mentioned Dad.”

Blue eyes shot at him and just for a moment there was a vulnerability there that shook Virgil to his core.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” To Virgil’s horror, Scott’s voice was shaking.

“Scott-“

“No, Virgil.”

“But-“

“No!”

Virgil’s lips thinned.

Scott turned away, running his hands through his hair. “Sorry, I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Please, just...don’t.”

The hand rubbing his face was unsteady.

If Virgil was honest with himself, seeing Scott like this scared him. Scott was his big brother, always strong, always there. He certainly wasn’t infallible, and there had been times in the past...they always left Virgil uncertain. He was ashamed to admit that he relied on Scott to be the strong one when things were falling apart.

If Scott was breaking under the pressure...

He swallowed and squared his shoulders. “You need some downtime.”

Scott spun to look at him. “What?”

“If you won’t talk about it, you need some time off to work things out.”

He shook his head. “No. No. Not possible.”

“It is.” Virgil sat on the floor staring up at his brother. “It won’t all collapse without you. We can manage.”

“Yeah, right.”

That caused an arched eyebrow, but to be honest, it wasn’t unexpected. “I’m glad you have so much confidence in me and our brothers.”

Blue eyes, stressed and obviously in pain stared at him.

“Talk to me, Scott.” It was a plea. “I don’t bite.”

“Not according to Gordon.”

He rolled his eyes. “He bit me first and you are not distracting me. Talk to me or I’ll ground you on medical grounds and you can talk to someone else.”

That got him. Scott straightened where he sat, anger flaring. “You can’t do that!”

“Just try me.” His lips thinned and he rammed his point home by staring his brother down.

Okay, proof that Scott wasn’t firing on all thrusters as Virgil won the staring contest, Scott’s eyes darting off to the left.

Soft. “I can’t.”

“You can.” The barest of smiles. “You’re my big brother, you can do anything.”

It was a gamble playing that card. It could trigger more stress at the reference to Scott’s position in the family or it could work as intended and bring back the memory of the first time Virgil had uttered those words.

He had only been around eight at the time and well and truly deep in hero worship of his big brother. Truth be told, he had never really lost that worship. It had changed over the years into more of a respect, but there was still that ingrained opinion that Scott was capable of doing so much.

At the time, it was a case of trying to get Gordon’s ball out of a tree. The two of them had been staring up at the ancient oak while Gordon screamed his preschool heart out at their feet. No adult was available and Virgil was too short to reach the lowest limb.

Scott wasn’t.

But they had been forbidden from climbing the tree with a threat of dire consequences.

But they had to get that ball. It was brand new, brought home from Dad’s latest business trip.

“You can do it, Scott. I’ll help you.”

The whole incident summed up their entire relationship. Scott leading, Virgil helping to make it happen.

“I’m not ten anymore, Virgil.”

“But you are still my big brother.” He reached up and placed his hands on Scott’s bowed shoulders. “You will always be our big brother. You don’t have to prove it by working yourself into the ground.” A pause. “Or by trying to kill yourself in the process.”

“I can’t...”

And there is was. A glimpse of truth.

Pushed away by stubbornness.

“I do what I have to do.”

Virgil’s hands tightened on his brother’s shoulders. “Then you will force me to do what I have to do, and ground you.”

“Virgil-“

“No! You listen to me. What happened to Dad wasn’t your fault! You’ve done everything humanly possible to find him, to carry his legacy, to keep us all afloat. But goddamnit, Scott, I won’t lose you like I lost Dad. I can’t do it!” His brother flinched, but Virgil had to push on. “I’m watching you fade away, day by day. And then you throw these stunts that terrify me. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve saved you over the last year? How many times seconds have counted? The uranium mine, Scott. You’d be dead. So fucking dead and then where would we be?!”

The tension in Virgil’s shoulders threatened to travel down his arms and just throttle his brother into understanding. “I’m not you, Scott. I can’t do this without you. And I can’t bear the thought...” He swallowed, taking control of himself. “If not for yourself in the short term, then do it for us. Take some time! And we can work out what you want for the long term. But please, please...just stop.”

Virgil found his heart thudding in his chest, his breath rasping with the urgency to get Scott to realise exactly what was at stake here. It was the expression in his brother’s eyes, wide and staring, a little fear in their depths, that shook the anger from him. There was a moment of pain, everything hanging in the air surrounding them like some life-sucking miasma, and Virgil grabbed his brother, yanking him into a desperate embrace.

It was a cling and he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or to reassure Scott, but either way, it was sorely needed.

Scott’s arms hesitated, but eventually wrapped around Virgil’s back, fingernails scratching against uniform fabric.

Uniform. Virgil’s eyes closed as his grip tightened and his head fell to Scott’s shoulder.

“Virg-“

“You’re more important.”

“I-“

“Please, Scott.”

His brother didn’t answer immediately, shifting in Virgil’s grip before gently tugging away.

Virgil let him go.

Scott wouldn’t look at him.

It was frightening to see his big brother like this.

“I...I think it is kind of ironic.” Scott’s voice was quiet.

A frown. “What?”

“That we are both afraid of the same thing.”

Virgil stared at him, no words, waiting.

His brother swallowed as if steeling himself before catching Virgil’s eyes. “I can get there first. If I can do what has to be done, I...you and the others don’t have to.” Blue eyes bled honesty and not a little fear, but Scott let out a desperate little laugh looking away. “I can’t lose you either.”

“God, Scott.” Virgil resisted the urge to grab and hug his brother again, instead resorting to grabbing his hand. “We are stronger together.”

Something broke and Scott’s face screwed up. “Virg, you weren’t there. He was...” Fingers were ripped out of Virgil’s grip and Scott buried his face in his hands. “He was just gone. I can’t...”

Virgil reached up and gently pulled those hands away. Scott’s face was strained and red where his hands had been jammed against his cheeks.

His eyes shone.

Words caught in Virgil’s throat. What could he say? That he and his brothers weren’t going to die? That everything was going to be all right?

He would be lying.

He couldn’t promise anything...any more than Scott could in kind.

“We could shut down International Rescue.” But the words hurt and Scott immediately tensed up.

“No. We do this for Dad. For Mom. For everyone who needs saving.” Simply saying the words put the spark back into his brother’s eyes. It was a mantra, a core philosophy, a reason why they did what they did.

“Then we do it together. We watch each other, protect each other and save each other. We do it together, Scott, and keep each other safe.” A swallow. “I need my big brother, not his sacrifice.”

Scott stared at him. One hand slipped from Virgil’s grip and reached for the side of his face. Gloved fingers brushed across his cheek bone, tangling in his hair.

Whispered. “Okay.”

The barest of smiles flickered across Virgil’s lips. “Thank you.”

And he was being pulled into a hug, Scott dragging him close. Virgil’s arms wrapped around his brother and for a long moment they simply held each other.

There was a tightness in his chest and Virgil had to blink several times to clear his vision.

Maybe this had worked. Maybe Scott would take the steps toward not risking his life so often. Please, God, keep him safe.

A particularly strong gust of wind shook the tent and broke the moment, the insulated material banging against the metal frame.

Scott pulled away and Virgil let him go, falling back onto his heels once again before creaking to his feet. Neither spoke as Virgil made his way back to his bunk. The whole conversation had been exhausting.

“Virgil?”

He turned back to his brother. Scott was still sitting on the edge of his bed. “You were wrong.”

What? God no.

“You do bite. You sink your teeth in and hang on until you get what you want.” Scott’s expression was solemn. “Thank you.”

Virgil smiled a little sadly at him. “I do what I have to do.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #episode tag #nuttyfic reblog

[zenithpng]

TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

[It’s not that Sokka’s shy about his tics. Unless someone needs silence or there’s an inappropriate word thrown in, he sees no reason to stifle himself. He can’t control them after all, and it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong.

But this was supposed to be a good day, undisturbed by anything that came out of his mouth or happened with his body.

Luckily, Zuko is there to help bear the load, and, strangely enough, so is Azula.]

Read more under the cut, AO3 link ->HERE<-

Sokka loves shopping. No doubt about it. There’s just something about the bustle, the running back and forth, the decisions and the excitement of getting something new that never fails to put a smile on his face. So when Zuko grumbles that he needs to go shopping for some spring and summer clothes, Sokka immediately offers to go with him, having been needing to do the same thing anyway.

They set a date and a time, plan which stores they’re going to so Zuko knows what to anticipate, even coordinate their outfits, for Tui and La’s sake. (Okay, the last one is all Sokka’s idea, but there’s nothing wrong with being well-dressed with your friend and Zuko humours him gladly.)

But there’s something. There’s always something.

This something comes under the name of midterms.

The end of March is always horrendous, and really, Sokka should have known better than to plan something smack in between all the stress. But it’s fine , it’s really fine. He can take a day off from the calculus study guides (spirits, why did he have to take that in the tenth grade) and the engineering workshops because this is Zuko he’s meeting up with!

He likes Zuko, loves Zuko. If anything, this is the absolute best way to relieve his stress.

And so he’s outside the mall at one in the afternoon, foot tapping as he waits for Zuko. Soon he sees the familiar figure strolling up, giving a little wave and a shy smile.

And it’s normal to just not want to tear your eyes away from your friend that just happens to be very pretty, right?

Because Zuko is, in fact, very pretty. Straight black jeans, a red button up with - hang on, are those dragons? - left half-open over a white binder that looks like a regular tank top to anyone who doesn’t know, hair up in a ponytail with loose strands falling out and framing his face.

And Sokka could keep going. Could talk about the belt chain with sun and moon charms, could talk about the matte black on Zuko’s fingernails, could talk about the theatre mask necklace he’s wearing. Because there’s just so much and Zuko- Zuko looks so nice.

God, Sokka must be grinning like a fool by the time Zuko’s finally within arms reach, and he immediately pulls the taller boy into a hug. Zuko lets out a breathy laugh, returning the embrace.

“Someone’s excited to see me.” Sokka shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face.

“Nope, just for the shopping,” he jokes. “Race you the rest of the way, onetwothreego!” And he takes off, dashing towards the front of the mall, laughing when he hears a yell of “Sokka-a!” from behind him.

By the time he stops, Zuko is right behind him, both boys breathing hard and shoving at each other.

“You’re terrible,” Zuko grumbles. “You know I can’t keep up with you.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Sokka says, spinning on his heel and marching into the entrance, looking over his shoulder to make sure Zuko’s following, not that he really doubted it anyway.

*****

They’re only two stores into their browsing when Sokka snaps his fingers, slapping the nearest clothes rack. He hisses, having hit a sharp corner, and shakes his hand out. Zuko peers over from the other side, expression tinged with the slightest bit of worry.

“Everything okay?” he asks. Sokka nods, wincing.

“Gotta be careful where I hit, I guess.” And Zuko just nods, going back to his searching.

That’s the nice thing about being with Zuko. He never presses like Katara does, or answers to tics like Aang. Unless Sokka somehow manages to hurt himself or is visibly upset, he leaves things alone. It’s refreshing, being around someone that doesn’t pay any more attention to his tics than the laces on his shoes.

Sokka slides over yet another shirt when he sees one Zuko might like. It’s black with red seams and fire embroidered at the bottom and on the sleeves. He calls Zuko around to take a look.

And that’s when everything starts going wrong.

As Zuko’s stepping around the rack, Sokka’s knees buckle, hitting against the carpeted floor painfully as he fails to catch himself on anything. Zuko’s eyes go a bit wider, and he’s on the floor in a split second right beside him.

“Was that a tic?” he asks, taking Sokka’s hands to help him back up. The younger grimaces as his legs straighten painfully and he nods.

“I think so,” Sokka says. “Never happened before.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Probably just a one time thing.”

And Zuko nods, looking over the shirt he’s handed, dropping the subject.

*****

It’s not a one time thing.

Sokka’s knees keep hitting the floor or coming close, Zuko lunging to try and catch him or at least slow his fall each time. And it seems like each time there are more tics in between the drops, and they’re coming more frequently and his eyes are burning and-

Great, he’s crying. He’s sitting on the floor of an JCPenny, crying and unable to stem the flow of sounds and words and, oh, gods, he just hit Zuko, Spirits-

Zuko’s trying to get him to breathe, looking like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

"Hey, hey," he tries, ignoring any weird stares they're getting. Sokka's hand flies up to hit at his own head, and Zuko brings it right back down, not restraining but simply letting his own hands be an obstacle. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna call my uncle, or your dad? If that's better?"

And Sokka tries to answer, he really does, but between his gasping breaths and the words and trills it's just impossible and he feels so useless-

But Zuko- Zuko is a godsend because he just pulls him in close, hushing him gently, one hand carding through his loose hair.

"I'm gonna call my uncle," he says, "And then if it's okay with you, I'll use your phone to call your dad." Sokka nods, biting his lips to stifle a bubbling-up tic. Vaguely, he feels Zuko shuffling around, hears him talking to Iroh and then his dad, but it's all far away.

Quiet noises still fall from his lips, but he's too exhausted for all his physical tics, and it's the worst feeling ever. His brain is screaming for him to jerk his head, to hit the floor, something, but his body feels like it weighs ten thousand pounds and he just can't. Zuko's hand trailing up and down his back provides some comfort, but it's still just so terrible and he hates it so much.

"Think you can stand?" Zuko asks softly. And Sokka knows good and well that the answer is no, but he nods anyway, only to come crashing back down, stopped only by Zuko's quick reflexes. Sokka nearly sobs again, but Zuko just pulls him up, lifting him like it's no problem. A protest bubbles up, but Zuko quickly brushes him off, saying he's had plenty of practice with Azula.

Sokka has no idea what that means, but saves his questions for when he doesn't feel like he's actively falling apart.

Before he knows it, he's in the back of Iroh's car, Zuko explaining in hushed tones. And when they pull up to the Jasmine Dragon, his dad is already there, pulling him upright and holding him as if he's a little kid. But maybe that's what he needs in the moment, and he lets himself be maneuvered into the passenger's seat and buckled in.

He's asleep before his dad even turns onto the main road, tired beyond belief.

Sure, it’s a sucky experience. No one wants to pass out because you’re so tired you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

But by the end of the day, Sokka’s all right. It’s a Friday, and he’s got on a hoodie two sizes too big and is laying in his bed, spamming Zuko with memes while the other boy replies in all caps to try and end the flow of images. But it’s all in good nature, and before long they’re video calling, stifling laughter in their pillows.

And by the next morning, it’s forgotten. That is, until he drops suddenly in the kitchen, the plate he was reaching for clattering to the floor with him. Bato glances over briefly, concerned, but goes back to getting ready for work, hovering a little closer than before.

Sokka makes it a point to stay seated for as much of the day as possible, going from the couch to the table to his desk in a never ending cycle. He knows he can’t keep this up for ever, but for now, it’s going to have to work. Instead of wallowing about it, he just tries to push through. No point in crying about something that will solve itself.

And for the most part, his dads and Katara are just fine, not really paying attention unless there’s a need for help. That is, until he tics on the stairs and hardly stops himself from falling the rest of the way down.

Hakoda looks up from where he’s typing at the kitchen counter, his face serious.

“You know you can’t keep going like this, right?” Sokka groans, shutting his eyes and laying his head back against a stair.

“Dad, it’s fine. It’ll go away eventually. I just have to tough it out.”

“And how are you going to go to school? How are you going to get to classes?” Hakoda shuts his computer, standing up and walking over to help Sokka up. They make it to the living room without incident, sitting down across from each other.

Hakoda looks like he’s trying to force words out of his mouth but can’t quite get them right. Finally, he speaks.

“You know it’s okay to ask for and accept help, right?” Sokka nods slowly, not sure where his dad is going with this. Hakoda takes a measured breath.

“Okay, okay. Good.” He swallows hard and continues, “How would you feel if Bato picked up something to help you out on his way home?” And Sokka’s got no idea what his dad might be talking about, but he shrugs anyway. It’s his dad after all. Hakoda only wants the best for him.

“Sure,” he says easily, and smiles. “I’d like that.”

*****

When Bato returns from work that day, he’s holding a long box. He mutters something about leaving it in Sokka’s room and disappears upstairs. Sokka doesn’t really pay it any mind. Bato isn’t someone who’s huge on talking like Dad is. He likes to sit back, give the problem at hand a nudge in the right direction, and watch it resolve itself.

And so when Sokka goes upstairs, he’s not really sure what to expect. He just pulls the keys from his bookbag and slices through the tape on the package, not really paying attention.

But when he finally gets the box open, he freezes. Then, he unfreezes, curses himself for not seeing this coming, and runs an agitated hand through his hair. It’s a cane.

A very cool cane, with metallic blue waves racing up the length of it, but still. That’s… not something he expected.

Sokka takes a deep breath, trying not to get weird about this. Plenty of people use canes. Hell, Toph uses a cane to get around, and they’re one of the toughest people Sokka knows. He’s not doing it for attention or to look cool or something. This is something that will make his life easier for however long it takes this tic to go away.

That doesn’t make this any less difficult though.

(Toph uses a cane because they’re blind. Sokka’s gonna use one because his brain won’t stop screwing him over.)

But Sokka’s nothing if not resilient, and he figures if he’s gonna do this, he’s not going to feel embarrassed about it. So he gets up, supporting some of his weight on the cane. He tics almost immediately, but hey, he doesn’t fall to the floor again. Pacing back and forth across his room for a bit gets him used to the pattern, gets him used to catching himself when his body tries to drop.

It’s fine, he’s gonna be fine. Sure he’s gonna get weird stares at school, but that already happens.

But still, it couldn’t hurt to drop by the Jasmine Dragon, right? Not that he’s nervous, no, of course not. It’s just that Iroh gives such nice advice and Zuko’s smile always makes his day so much better. Really there’s no reason he shouldn’t go to the Jasmine Dragon.

Sokka picks up his phone.

socks - 18:17

Hey do you mind if i stop by tomorrow

Zuko - 18:21

It’s a tea shop, Sokka. We can’t exactly control who comes and goes.

socks

no i mean like to talk

Zuko

We do that every time anyway.

Sokka sighs. Right. He needs to actually explain himself. Zuko’s not the greatest at picking up on stuff like that.

socks

I have some stuff I want to sit down and talk to your uncle about if that’s okay

And maybe talk to you too ;))

Zuko

Oh, yeah. That’s fine. Sundays usually are slow anyway.

socks

Sounds good, cya tomorrow

Sokka places his phone onto his nightstand, switching it to Do Not Disturb. He is going to get some rest, talk to Uncle Iroh, and everything will be okay.

*****

Walking to the Jasmine Dragon with his new cane is awkward. He’s still not quite used to it, and he logically knows that there’s no one giving him dirty looks from across the street. But that doesn’t stop him from turning his head over his shoulder and checking every so often, just to make sure.

To Zuko’s credit, he hardly reacts to the new, ah, accessory when Sokka pushes open the door. His face lights up in a smile when he sees him come through the doorway, and though his eyes flicker exactly once to the cane, his smile doesn’t falter and he punches in Sokka’s order the same as always.

“Uncle’s in the back, we were running low on the rose tea so he’s brewing some right now,” Zuko explains when Sokka’s peach boba tea is ready. He tugs a straw from the box on the counter, handing it to him. “He should be out in just a minute, I told him you were out here.”

True to his word, Iroh shuffles out a few minutes later, and Sokka pauses his scrolling through his phone to smile up at the man.

“Good morning, Sokka,” Iroh greets cordially, setting down his own cup of tea. He blows at it lightly before stirring in a bit of honey. Light brown eyes, dimmed with age but no somehow no less sharp than Azula’s, smile at him.

“My nephew mentioned you wanted to speak to me.” He takes a sip of his tea, nodding in silent satisfaction before looking back up at Sokka. “What troubles you, child?”

Sokka sighs, popping a piece of boba in his mouth before reaching down, lifting the top of his cane over the top of the table. Iroh furrows his brow, nodding slowly.

There’s a slam from inside the kitchen of what sounds like an oven door. Sokka startles slightly, though Iroh hardly reacts at all. It must be Azula baking again. Both turn back to their conversation with not a word about the noise.

“Zuko has told me of your… tics, are they called?” Sokka nods, and Iroh continues. “If this assists you in your day-to-day life, there is nothing to be ashamed of! There is never shame in accepting help, whatever form it may come in. A bird will build its nest of leaves or wool, provided it is soft.”

Sokka bites the inside of his cheek, nodding. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, from his father before bed last night, from Bato earlier this morning, from himself on his walk over. It’s good advice, accompanied by the warmth of the tea shop and Iroh’s signature proverbs. But it’s nothing special, really.

Iroh seems to notice, and Sokka feels a bit bad. But the older man doesn’t seem to mind, simply patting Sokka’s hand with a smile.

“I think perhaps I am not the best to assist you right now,” he says, standing and taking his tea cup. “Just a moment.”

He stands making his way back into the kitchen. There’s grumbling from inside before the door swings open again, Azula marching out.

She yanks the chair from under the table and sits unceremoniously, her face flat. She’s sharp where Iroh is soft, but there’s no real boredom or anger in her expression. She sticks out a hand.

“Let me see.”

Sokka passes the cane across the table awkwardly, making sure not to hit anything. She examines it with that sharp gold gaze, nodding in approval.

“Study,” she finally says, which is probably the closest thing to a compliment Sokka’s ever heard her give. “Doesn’t look too bad either, I suppose. Not that looks are the purpose here.” She hands it back, narrowly missing the straw of Sokka’s cup of boba. He’s still not quite sure why Iroh sent her out to sit with him, but he doesn’t really mind. Like Zuko, she’s someone that doesn’t change character because of a situation.

“It looks nicer than my old crutches at least,” Azula says, almost casually. “Those were such an ugly shade of green, I don’t know why Uncle bought them.” And she’s so offhand about it all that Sokka almost misses the meaning of her words.

“Wait, what?” he blurts before he can stop himself. Azula? Who’s always an almost royal air about her? That could probably have him on the ground in two seconds flat? That Azula?

She must have been expecting his reaction (of course she did, it’s Azula), and she simply crosses her legs, resting one arm on the table.

“I used to have so many issues when we first moved in with Uncle,” she begins, her tone still as if she’s speaking about the weather. “I screwed up my body for a while, didn’t eat and threw up what I did.” Sokka tries to imagine Azula as anyone other than the confident person he knows and comes up short.

“It was a series of unfortunate events, really. A weak body meant weak bones, apparently, and a jump I tried to make ended up shattering both my legs. Had to be in a wheelchair for a while, then use those forearm crutches for longer than I would have liked to. But it was fine, I suppose.”

Sokka bites his lip. They both know the question on his mind, and they both know Azula won’t give him the answer until he asks. Finally, he takes a deep breath and goes for it.

“How’d you- you know. Stop worrying that you looked… stupid?” Azula rolls her eyes, though there’s the slightest bit of an upward turn to her mouth.

“Well, anyone who’s opinion mattered to me didn’t care. Do you know how annoying Zuzu was for those months? It was always, ‘Zula, let me carry that, Zula, let me pick that up.’” Sokka nods. He knows the feeling all too well. Azula sighs, casting a glance at Zuko, who’s taking some customer’s order.

“But, as grating as it was, it was because he cares. And anyone who said anything bad, I could hit them with my crutch. I mean really, who’s going to admit they got beat up by a five-foot-one girl with crutches?”

And yeah, okay, that gets a laugh out of him. The image of Azula whacking a rude customer or classmate with what is essentially a large stick is one that he can conjure up easily.

Azula turns fully towards him, her expression shifting minutely.

“Do you trust me?”

Sokka freezes for a moment. Azula and he aren’t close, not like he is with Zuko. But if he thinks, there’s really no reason not to trust Azula. She’s straight forward and doesn’t beat around the bush. And so, Sokka nods.

Azula seems pleased.

“Then trust me when I say there’s going to be hardly anyone paying attention.”

And somehow, despite all the people telling him similar things, it’s Azula that finally drives it home.

*****

The next day at school, Sokka jabs Aang under the table with his cane as the younger boy laughs. Katara’s next to them, trying and failing to hide her mirth, while Suki and Toph smother laughter into their hands. His phone chimes, and he flips it over to see the notification.

Zuko

Hope your day’s going okay. Azula’s trying out a new recipe by the way. She says she wants you to try it.

Sokka smiles, typing his response.

socks

Day’s going great, zukes :)) and i’ll be there, cya later!

#whumptober 2021 #no4 #trust falls #do you trust me? #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #ao3 #sokka #ts sokka #azula #zuko #iroh #bato #hakoda #katara #modern au #atla fic #luca's corner

[quicksilversquared]

Snapped Wrist, Broken Lies

After a scuffle over Marinette's lucky bracelet from Adrien ends with Lila getting a broken wrist, Marinette is positive that she's going to end up in trouble. But this might just end up being the opportunity she's been waiting for to end Lila's reign of lies.

links in the reblog

Marinette's bracelet from Adrien was one of her treasured possessions and had been ever since she got it. Maybe it wasn't expensive or particularly valuable in other people's eyes, but- well, that didn't mean that it couldn't be special. Adrien had made the bracelet specifically for her, because of the lucky charm she had given him. He had picked out the cord and the beads and sat down and made it while thinking about her, so of course it was special and Marinette didn't want to lose it.

And of course Lila would pick up on that and try to steal it, snatching it from Marinette's fingers after she had pulled it out of her pocket. Marinette looked up, saw the evil smirk that flashed across Lila's face, and immediately visions of Lila destroying the bracelet flashed in front of her eyes, the beads rolling across the hallway and getting lost between people's feet and dropping over the edge of the walkway to the courtyard below, never to be found again.

And Marinette saw red.

"Give it back," she snarled, lunging straight at Lila and latching on to her closed fist with both hands. There was one goal in her mind, and one goal only, and she wasn't going to stop until her bracelet was back in her hands.

Get it back get it back get it back get-

And then she could feel the familiar shape of the beads against her fingertips as she pried Lila's fingers open one by one, a welcome relief even as Lila's fingernails dug into her fingers, but she wasn't safe yet. Another half-yank half-push and she was almost there, she almost had it, her grip shifted and she yanked again-

-and then there was a crack. Lila abruptly let go of the bracelet and Marinette snatched it away with a gasp, backpedaling back a few safe paces to look at the precious bracelet because that must have been what snapped, surely-

But it was fine, the cord in one unbroken piece and the beads all in place, none the worse for the wear.

Marinette blinked, puzzled- maybe she had imagined the crack, because she had been imagining the worst?- when a cry broke the air and she looked up quickly, expecting to see Lila charging at her.

Instead, Lila was practically doubled over as she clutched at her wrist, which was pointed in a decidedly not-wrist-like direction.

Or, to be more accurate, her wrist was just fine. It was the bone a few finger's-widths away from the wrist that was pointed in a strange direction instead of- well, instead of being straight. And it was the wrist of the hand that Lila had been holding the bracelet in.

Marinette had done whatever she needed to do to get Lila's fingers open and open fast, before Lila could try to pull away. Apparently her whatever she needed to do of choice had been to bend Lila's hand back until she let go, which had taken enough force to actually break it.

Or maybe it hadn't needed that force and Marinette had just dialed things up from two straight to eleven in her effort to get her lucky charm back in one piece and- because she was a superhero- her eleven was, well, maybe a bit on the strong side.

Whatever had happened, it had ended up with Lila crumpling in pain to the floor, for once not faking it as she cradled her wrist and sobbed. Her face was screwed up in genuine pain, red and splotchy and not at all attractive, a far cry from what she usually looked like when she 'cried' to get sympathy.

"What is going on here?" Madam Mendeleev demanded, appearing through the crowd of students that had gathered. They parted for her at once.

"Lila stole my bracelet, and I was just getting it back," Marinette said at once, before Lila could try to spin a story to make Marinette look like a villain that had just attacked Lila out of nowhere. She held up the bracelet. "I thought that she was going to break it, so I was just focused on getting it back. We- we must have yanked in opposite directions at the same time." Because that was what had to have happened, right? Marinette had yanked hard in one direction and Lila had yanked back and that- combined with the slight twist Marinette had had going on to make her let go of the bracelet- had been enough to snap Lila's wrist.

Madam Mendeleev frowned. "Enough for- oh, that is definitely broken. Lila, we'll have to call up your mom and you'll have to go to the hospital."

Lila could only whimper. Apparently the break hurt enough that she couldn't manage her usual manipulative theatrics.

Good. Maybe she would think twice about trying to make a grab for Marinette's stuff in the future.

"Marinette, we're going to have to file an incident report," Madam Mendeleev added. "Just because there's been an injury. That doesn't mean you're in trouble- we're going to have to confirm what happened before making any judgements."

Marinette muffled an internal groan. No doubt Lila would make something up to get Marinette in trouble as soon as she managed to compose herself enough, and it was unlikely that anyone in the hallway had been paying enough attention to Marinette and Lila to be able to confirm that Marinette was the one telling the truth. That, combined with the fact that Lila had been manipulating things to look like Marinette was out to get her for ages, meant that Marinette would probably get in a lot of trouble. And once again, Lila would get off scot free.

Except she wasn't off scot-free. Lila would have to deal with the broken wrist for several weeks while it healed. And-

-and her mom was getting called. There was no way that they would give up on contacting Mrs. Rossi this time around, not now that Lila had a broken bone. Even if she was busy, there was almost no way that she wouldn't put everything aside to come over.

And then, with any luck, the teachers would mention one of Lila's ridiculous lies about traveling or meeting celebrities or having a million diseases and afflictions and Mrs. Rossi would deny them and everything could go back to normal.

….that was probably wishful thinking, honestly. Given Marinette's track record with Lila, she wouldn't be surprised if she ended up on the receiving end of a lawsuit that would destroy all of her dreams of being a designer and force her to switch to a different school.

Madam Mendeleev hoisted Lila to her feet- "Stop collapsing, young lady, it's your wrist that's broken and not your legs, there is no need for anyone to carry you!"- and they headed to the office. Marinette kept a tight grip on her Lucky Charm, hoping that it would bring her a little luck and she wouldn't end up expelled and sued. Mr. Damocles was already in his door, alerted to the commotion and frowning at the students who were lingering and gawking at the sobbing Lila. Alya was inching forward with her phone in her hand, clearly ready to delve into investigating whatever the commotion was, but a dual look from both Mr. Damocles and Madam Mendeleev had her lowering her phone and taking a step back. Nino was next to her, glancing between Lila and Marinette, his brow furrowed, and the rest of their classmates weren't far behind.

Marinette tried not to groan at the thought of what rumors would no doubt be flying around as soon as the office door had closed. She doubted that anyone would try to claim that she had purposefully hurt Lila, not without Lila's influence, but- well, she supposed that it was possible that Lila had planted enough rumors and lies that someone would entertain the idea briefly.

The office door shut behind them, cutting off the staring eyes.

"Okay, how did this happen?" Mr. Damocles asked tiredly, settling down at his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Marinette spotted the corner of a magazine hastily stuffed into a drawer; clearly they had interrupted him in the middle of his comic time.

Marinette had to wonder if he was really supposed to be reading comics while on the clock.

"Marinette reported that Lila took a bracelet of hers and was just trying to take it back before Lila broke it," Madam Mendeleev reported before either girl could say anything. "And that Lila's wrist somehow got broken in the tussle." She turned to Marinette. "Can I see the bracelet in question?"

Marinette held it up. "It was a birthday gift to me from Adrien," she told them when both teachers looked exasperated, probably because- well, to anyone else, the bracelet probably wouldn't look like anything worth brawling over. "Because I gave him a similar one before, 'cause it was my lucky charm while playing video games."

"A sentimental gift," Mr. Damocles said at once, nodding wisely. "Of course, of course. It's understandable that you wouldn't want to risk it getting destroyed. So, uh, what made you think that it was in danger?"

"Lila ripped it out of my hands when I had just pulled it out of my pocket to look at it," Marinette said quickly, taking advantage of Lila's uncharacteristic quiet- or, well, not quiet exactly- she was still letting out little gaspy sobs and was clearly attempting to speak, but the shock was just too fresh. "Just for a few seconds. I wasn't trying to, like, flaunt it or anything. And when I grabbed for it, she refused to give it back- she just held on tighter and tried to pull her hand away instead of just giving it back like someone would if they had just been curious and hadn't realized that I would object."

"I see." Mr. Damocles turned his attention to Lila. "And Lila- oh, I suppose that can wait until after your arm is set. I'll call your mom up at once. I should have started with that, I suppose."

Lila sniffled, a flash of realization and panic flashing across her face for a moment. "N-no, b-busy-"

"Nonsense. No mom wouldn't want to know that her daughter will have to go to the hospital with a broken wrist." Mr. Damocles reached for his phone as he tapped a few things into his computer, pulling up Lila's file before dialing a number and holding it up to his ear. It only took a few seconds for someone to pick up. "Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Damocles, the principal of Françoise Dupont. Is this Mrs. Rossi? Yes, yes. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there was an incident just now and Lila has a broken wrist and needs to be brought to the hospital- yes, we're positive it's broken, the bone isn't exactly straight where it's meant to be- can you come to the school? You're right in the neighborhood now? Fantastic! Yes, we'll see you in a couple minutes- no, it wasn't a bullying incident, we're investigating it now- Madam Mendeleev, can you go out to the hallway and see if there's anyone who saw the whole incident from start to finish? Thank you- yes, yes, we'll have someone to let you in at the front door. I'll alert our hall monitor at once. Yes. Bye."

Marinette swallowed hard as Mr. Damocles hung up. Mrs. Rossi was going to be there in only a few minutes, and- well, no one had met her before. What was she like? Was she going to blame Marinette and refuse to hear a word against Lila? Surely she would be furious- after all, a broken wrist, and a broken dominant wrist at that was a big thing, a huge inconvenience, and not something that was supposed to happen at school.

She could only pray that someone else had seen Lila grab her bracelet, so it wouldn't be Lila's word against Marinette's.

"Okay, Lila, your mom is on the way," Mr. Damocles said, turning to the still-sniffling Lila. "Now can you tell me what happened?"

Lila sniffled for a minute, making several false starts as she tried to pull herself together, and- oh, Marinette could see that some of her acting was starting to slip back into place as the shock slowly faded. "She- she's lying, I d-didn't take her b-b-bracelet, she just a-attacked me out of nowhere when I a-a-asked what she had! I never took anything!" She gulped and let out a sob, wiping her face. "I-I-I just don't know why she's so mean to me!"

Mr. Damocles paused, his eyes darting between Lila and Marinette. Clearly he had been hoping that their stories would line up, that Lila would admit to taking Marinette's bracelet. "Uh…"

"S-she's hated me ever since my c-condition acted up and she got in t-trouble," Lila continued, clearly trying to put on a brave act. "And it's not my f-fault, I can't control it-"

"I have not," Marinette snapped, because it was true- she had hated Lila long before the expulsion incident. "And this has nothing to do with that- if you hadn't grabbed my bracelet, everything would have been fine."

Lila gasped. "And you're still trying to blame me, when-"

"When you're entirely to blame and I was only defending myself and my property? Yes!"

Lila opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a knock at the door. A moment later, a woman that must have been Lila's mom swept into the room, concern written across her face. Her eyes slid across Marinette and went right to Lila. "Darling, are you okay? Let me see your wrist- oh my gosh." Her eyes flashed up, then over to Marinette. "How did this happen?"

"Marinette attacked me-" Lila started, her voice full of tears (more tears welled up in her eyes- whether or not they were real tears was, for once, actually debatable), but she was cut off by Mr. Damocles.

"We have two conflicting stories, so we're suspending judgement until we can talk to the students in the area," Mr. Damocles announced, his smile tense. "We'll keep you updated, of course, but I suppose you want to get Lila to the doctor's right away- do you have a car, or should I drive?"

Mrs. Rossi was frowning. "I have a car. Let's go, Lila. You can tell me what happened on the way."

Lila sniffled and nodded, standing up. Marinette watched, a sinking feeling in her gut about how this whole thing was going to go. Just as she had worried, Mrs. Rossi was going to come in and out of the school without discussing any of Lila's claims. Lila was going to feed her mom her side of the story on the way to the hospital, and unless there was some serious evidence in Marinette's favor, she was going to get hit with some serious consequences she definitely didn't deserve.

So Marinette decided to give the whole situation a little nudge.

"You know, maybe Lila can get a doctor's note for her other afflictions while she's getting treatment for her arm," Marinette piped up in her best 'helpful' voice. "I know that Lila's said that you've been too busy to go in, but maybe while you're there anyway…."

Mrs. Rossi frowned at her. "What?"

Mr. Damocles perked up, just as Marinette had hoped he would, and turned towards the Rossis. "Ah, yes! Perhaps not in the emergency room, since I'm sure that they're quite busy and rushed, but they'll require follow-up care with your primary physician and you can do it then! We've been making accommodations without, I know, but really we should have notes on file for the- let's see- " He spun towards the computer again, scrolling through Lila's file. "Ah, the tinnitus, the weak wrist, the arthritis, Lila's allergies- I know she's mentioned several, the teachers didn't remember to write down what exactly what it was at the time, the, ah, disease that causes compulsive lying- that one in particular, I don't know if there might be some sort of action plan that we should be implementing? And if there's anything else we need to know about-"

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Rossi demanded, whipping around to face him, then glanced at her daughter. Lila looked like she was strongly considering screaming, and Marinette smothered a triumphant grin. Her nudge had gone just as she had hoped. "Lila doesn't have any conditions at all! She's in perfect health- well, other than her wrist now, but that's a temporary thing. Where did you get the idea that she was ill at all?"

Mr. Damocles blinked at her. "Ah, from Lila herself? She's been telling the teachers when she needs accomodations, primarily Ms. Bustier, and I asked her to keep a log of what afflictions Lila has so that we could try to follow up to get paperwork, but we've not been able to get in contact, the calls never went through before-"

Mrs. Rossi frowned. "Wait, so you were trying to get in contact with me when you weren't akumatized?"

Marinette sat back and watched as Mrs. Rossi and Mr. Damocles pieced together what Lila had been telling everyone and what the actual truth was while she and Lila watched. Lila was clearly torn between seething and being coldly furious, but there was nothing she could do to stop all of her lies from being exposed, torn down one after the other.

It was incredibly satisfying, really. And then the office door banged open and Madam Mendeleev marched in with several students trailing behind her, Adrien among them. She took one look at the scene, clearly disregarded it as being less important than her news, and then opened her mouth.

"I've talked to the other students as requested, Mr. Damocles, and I have five students who saw the entire incident from start to finish." She frowned at Lila. "And it turns out that Marinette was telling the truth. All of them saw Lila grab the bracelet from Marinette and refuse to give it back. All of them are willing to go on record to say as such."

"Ah, good, good." Mr. Damocles nodded, short and uncomfortable. "Yes, I suspected as much at this point- if I could get names, I would like to speak with everyone after school since we have a bit of a situation to deal with right now. Yes, you can return to class- yes, you too, Marinette," he added at Marinette's inquisitive look. "Just don't leave after school without checking in first. I'll see you all later."

Marinette let herself be ushered out of the office alongside the other students, the heavy door swinging shut behind them. Even then, she could still make out Mr. Damocles' next words.

"Now, about the trip that Lila claimed to be on for several months-"

"The WHAT?"

  It was several days before Lila returned to school, her wrist in a cast and a scowl on her face. The other students gave her a wide berth, even the ones in her own class. Even though she was actually injured now and struggled a bit with carrying her bag and writing, no one stepped up to help. They had been needlessly taken advantage of too many times already, so now Lila could lie in her own bed and deal with the consequences of lying before.

She wasn't going to be staying at their school, that was common knowledge. But the transfer to a correctional school was taking a bit of set-up, so Lila would be staying at Dupont until the last of her paperwork went through and her new teachers had been fully briefed.

Really, it was a punishment for her more than anyone else. Without her popularity, without people falling over themselves to help, school wasn't particularly pleasant for Lila. Add in the fact that everyone was giving her the cold shoulder for the lies she had spread and stunts she had attempted, and no one had ever been as much of a social outcast as Lila was now.

Even akumatization- which would normally be something Lila looked forward to, because it was a chance to defeat Ladybug- wasn't as fun as it had been for Lila. Apparently being akumatized didn't take away the fact that her wrist was broken, and Ladybug had taken full advantage of that fact every single time, snagging Lila's akumatized form by the wrist with her yo-yo right away every time and yanking, sending the Lila-kuma into spasms of pain.

Maybe Lila had been akumatized half a dozen times since her wrist broke, but each time it had only lasted for about five minutes because of Ladybug's little trick.

(Ladybug couldn't help but snicker a little to herself about that. Lila had been a thorn in her side ever since her arrival in Paris, and she knew perfectly well that, had the akumatization been something that Lila hadn't wanted- if she had had to be coerced, just like everyone else in Paris- then the additional pain from the battle wouldn't stay with Lila after the Cure swept around. The fact that it did…. well, that meant that Lila had still welcomed the akumatization and thus deserved all of the pain she got.)

As for Marinette… well, she was enjoying having everyone believing her again instead of assuming that she was just jealous of Lila whenever she questioned Lila's stories. She had gotten a lot of apologies after Lila's less-than-smooth fall from grace, and most people felt pretty sheepish that they hadn't listened to her in the first place.

Marinette smiled to herself as Lila sulked past the rest of the class to her desk. Maybe she hadn't intended to break Lila's wrist in her efforts to get her bracelet from Adrien back, but it had certainly solved several of her problems in one rather quick go.

Now, if only she could somehow break Hawkmoth's wrist.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #marinette dupain cheng #tumblr why are you forgetting my commonly used tags

[izzisanauthor]

A Murderer's Cell

A Prodigal Son fanfic by IzzIsAnAuthor (izzygrace07)

References to memories discussed in 2x03 - "Alma Mater"

----------

Malcolm's fist pounds against the door as he hyperventilates, body trembling with fear. The closet walls suffocate him without moving an inch. It's such a familiar feeling, the exact one he felt during his time trapped in the janitor's closet at Remington Academy. His rational and irrational thoughts fight for dominance in his head, and right now, the nonsensical ones are winning and fill his mind with death.

It's not like anyone would hear his knocking; it's nearly midnight, and the precinct is empty. The murder case he is investigating is similar to one that went cold thirteen years prior, and he needed to grab those files and run them by their current information. Malcolm hadn't thought much of it when he walked into the closet of old case files and rummaged through a few boxes. He didn't know that the door would close on him, shrouding him in darkness.

Malcolm had frozen immediately, unable to comprehend the situation before him. When reaching blindly for the doorknob, he had been shocked to discover that the knob was missing, leaving only the rose behind. Pushing on the door did nothing, and he didn't have the space he would need to kick it open. With nobody left in the building and the doorknob missing, Malcolm was experiencing his biggest fear first-handed: alone in the darkness, trapped in a box with nobody around to hear his cries for help.

The Remington Incident hadn't been this bad. At the very least, there was minute light that helped him see. Yes, he was dangerously dehydrated, starving, and soaked in his sweat, tears, and urine, but Nicky had been merciful enough to let him see. Now, Malcolm can't help but imagine the same scenario; only now, he'd have to survive those three days with his vision inhibited. Dying in darkness, in pain and disgusted with himself, and with nobody around to find him for days was undoubtedly terrifying.

Eventually, Malcolm's sobs turn into silent tears. He leans his body against the door and continues to knock, not nearly as forceful as before, while his free hand trembles wildly at his side. The resignation takes over much faster than the last time he was stuck like this, taking only a few minutes instead of the first six hours of his Remington captivity. This feeling must be what defeatism is, the feeling of complete resignation. He doesn't experience this very often, only ever falling into it when a killer manages to elude him, manipulating the profile and taunting him as more victims get claimed. During those times, he had Gil, Ainsley, or even Dani talk him through it, reassuring him that everything would turn out fine, that profiling isn't an exact science; Malcolm isn't to blame.

Except he is, so his abusive mind tells him, and this is his punishment. He's let so many lives slip through his fingers because he wasn't good enough, fast enough, or intelligent enough to find the monsters responsible. If he had only said the right thing or noticed the essential details a little sooner, he wouldn't have to watch parents lose their children or kids become orphans. He's killed more people than the Surgeon, the man who he promised never to become. After his father's arrest, Malcolm refused to let himself go down the same path, dedicating his life to saving lives instead of taking them. With how much he's failed, he deserves to wither away in isolation, to rot in this cell, like the murderer he is.

Malcolm takes a couple of steps back and leans against the shelves of case files, sliding down to the floor. Every breath is shaky and laborious. He knows that the room walls are secure in the back of his mind, and he has plenty of oxygen. The precinct would open tomorrow, someone would come into the closet to look for files, and Malcolm would be free from his prison. It's not wishful thinking; it's a fact. Yet, at this moment, all he can see is the ceiling collapsing above him, ready to crush his body under the rubble. His breathing feels too heavy, wasting away his air supply. Worst of all, he imagines the precinct opening tomorrow and having plenty of people present, yet nobody notices that he's missing. Even if they did, it's not like anyone would care enough to look. He could bang on this door for hours and catch their attention; they might even figure out that he's in there. They could leave him locked in the closet like Nicky did, knowing fully well that he's suffering behind the door.

When the door opens and the room floods with light, Malcolm doesn't notice. Tears blur his vision, and all he can hear is his own hyperventilating. His fingernails dig into his wrist, desperate to stop his hand from shaking. Somewhere in the distance, he can make out words, but they're impossible to comprehend.

"Bright? Kid, what happened to you?" The voice is familiar, and Malcolm can almost put a name to its owner. "It's okay, Kid. You're okay. Come on, let's get you in the open. Malcolm, can you hear me?"

His first name is what shocks him back into reality. Nobody at the precinct calls him Malcolm except for two people, and only one of those two calls him Kid.

Malcolm blinks away the tears as much as he can, the blur fading from his sight. It isn't easy to see the man before him, the light from the hall making silhouettes out of his features. However, he can see the outline of facial scruff and well-maintained hair, and the recognition finally sets in.

"Gil," Malcolm breathes. A hand takes his own and gently pulls him to his feet. He staggers, his head spinning from the lightheadedness, and nearly falls over. When the throbbing of his head calms, he nods to show he's okay. Gil places a hand on the back of Malcolm's neck, guiding him out of the closet and into the light of the precinct.

He's led to a random desk nearby, practically throwing himself into the chair. The clean air that comes with the open space is heavenly, as if it is a gift from God himself. Gil grabs another chair and pulls it over to Malcolm, sitting across from him.

"So," Gil starts, "are you gonna tell me what happened, Bright?"

"There's not much to say," Malcolm mumbles, a slight waver to his voice. "I walked in the closet, and the door closed on me. That's it."

Gil sighs. "That's not what I mean."

When they found Malcolm in that closet at Remington, the shame erased any sense of relief. New York society already thinks that the Whitley family is dangerous, and that's just with Doctor Whitley's reputation hanging over his head. Malcolm should have known what Nicky would do, just like he should have known what his father was doing to those women. There are so many horrific things that Malcolm could have prevented, but he didn't because he wasn't good enough.

So, when Malcolm was found three days after Nicky trapped him, he told the doctors and police officers that the door shut on him. It was just a freak accident, and nobody was to blame but himself. With that story, nobody thinks of him as a failure or a weak man.

"...Do you remember when they found me at Remington?" Malcolm asks hesitantly.

Gil nods, his eyebrows furrowing. "You could have died in there," he laments. "I can't believe it took the police three days to find you. It was your damn school! We should have looked there first."

The guilt weighs heavy on Malcolm's shoulders. His disappearance worried so many people, and even now, it's obvious how blameworthy Gil feels about the whole thing. But it's not Gil's job to know that kind of information; that's what Malcolm is supposed to do.

He falls into silence upon hearing Gil's words. The worst thing he can do for Gil is to tell him the truth behind the incident.

"I knew you were claustrophobic," Gil continues, "but I didn't think it was that bad. I haven't seen you cry like that in a long time, Kid."

Malcolm lets out a soft chuckle and directs his gaze to the ground, wiping his palms against his slacks. "That was pretty embarrassing."

He jumps when Gil's hand rests on his knee, squeezing comfortingly. Malcolm glances up and finds Gil watching him with protective eyes. It nearly makes him shrink in his seat, overwhelmed by the sudden change in demeanour.

"Bright, you were traumatised," Gil states. "You were on your death bed. If that happened to me and I had been the one stuck in there, I would have freaked, too."

Malcolm gives a slight nod. He doesn't mean to, but he lets Gil's words go through one ear and out the other. They've been said before by anyone who has ever had the displeasure of seeing him in this state. It's bittersweet to have their sympathy when they have no idea why he's terrified.

"...Nicky Covington." He doesn't hear himself say the name, but he must have, seeing Gil's confused reaction.

"What about him?"

The trembling of Malcolm's hand worsens with the question, and he slams his stable hand over it, squeezing his wrist. Gil grabs both hands and pulls them apart, holding onto them both. It gives Malcolm a sense of security, keeping his mind down on Earth.

"It's okay," Gil says tenderly. "You can tell me, Malcolm." The earnestness in his words makes Malcolm's heart skip a beat. All these years, he's kept the truth behind the Remington incident quiet, choosing to exact revenge on Nicky in such a psychopathtic manner. He should have told Gil the truth back then; Gil would have been there to help him through the shock. He would have gotten Nicky put behind bars, unable to hurt another man.

Instead, he acted as his father would have and tried to kill him. Now, he's tired of having that skeleton in his closet.

"Nicky Covington, he..." Malcolm clears his throat. "The door didn't close on me. He locked me in there when he found out about my father." He looks down shamefully, refusing to meet Gil's eyes. "I lied to the police about the whole thing."

The silence is deafening and sends Malcolm's heart racing. He can feel his pulse clogging his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The usual berating voices he hears are abnormally quiet, waiting anxiously for Gil's reply.

"I know."

Malcolm blinks a few times and intelligently replies, "...What?"

"Kid, did you think I didn't investigate at Remington after they found you?" Gil says incredulously, shaking his head. "The janitor was bribed by the Covington family to lie about the locks. They didn't automatically lock like he said they did; an outside force would have to do it. They paid off the courts to keep quiet, of course, but at the very least, I got a good idea of what happened." He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over Malcolm's hands. "You know you're not The Surgeon, right?"

Malcolm nods halfheartedly. "I know. I do, really, but... Those women--"

Out of his peripheral, he sees Gil lean forward, trying to catch his eye. "You were a kid, Bright. No kid wants to believe their dad is a bad guy. It wasn't your job to catch him; it was ours, and we did."

When Malcolm opens his mouth to argue, Gil sticks up a finger, silencing him. "As a consultant for Major Crimes, you're bound to see people die. It's just a fact. But when you see people die, Malcolm, you want to catch the killer and lock them away. That's what makes you different from Martin Whitley; you do your job to protect people from criminals like him."

Malcolm feels a smile forming on his face. He squeezes Gil's hands. "Thanks, Gil."

Gil stands up, pulling Malcolm up with him. "It's late. We've got a case to work on tomorrow, so get some sleep, alright?"

"Never," Malcolm says, beaming. He may not believe Gil's words to the fullest, but at the very least, he can try to accept them: he isn't the Surgeon. He's Malcolm Bright, and he isn't to blame for what happened to him.

#prodigal son #my writing #fanfiction #claustrophobia #alma mater #trapped in a closet #near death tw #phobia tw #original post on archiveofourown

[neokids]

Fortune's Fool: Act IV

Introduction

Cast

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act V

Act IV

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“I don’t see anything.”

Jeno decided to further poke at whatever he was looking at. They were currently on the boardwalk near Han river, where the very first gruesome incident had occurred.

“Shut up and keep looking.”

They had yet to find anything suspicious, or anything “monster” related, the dock just seemed normal to them. No signs of tragedy even. They had been wandering around the docks for hours now, and the two were getting bored. Jeno, however, persisted.

“Ya Jeno. Jeno-ya. Jeno Lee–”

“For fuck’s sake what?! What is it Jaemin? If you don’t stop, I will not hesitate to throw you in this river right now.”

Jeno turned around to see a crouching Jaemin, obviously wanting to go home. If they weren’t at the docks right now going on a search, Jaemin would sure be enjoying painting whatever it was on his mind. Jeno couldn’t go home without anything to present his father, he could already imagine the look on his face, disappointed yet again. Earlier this morning, Lord Lee had met Jeno just before he left. He gripped Jeno’s shoulder while muttering the words: “Don’t let me down, son.”

To a passerby, the scene was normal, just a father and son having a conversation, but Lord Lee had actually gripped Jeno’s shoulder a little bit too hard, causing a red and almost bruised grip mark to form. Thinking about it made him touch his shoulder again. The word son actually felt more like a threat to him, rather than a word of affection.

He was too lost in thought only to be brought back by the sound of Jaemin groaning,

“You know you volunteered to go with us, right? You were even so excited to go on what you call a ‘mystery hunt’” Jeno said, causing Jaemin to look up at him.

“That was because I thought this case would be interesting, we’ve been here for hours looking for nothing! This is starting to feel like a game of hide-and-seek where everyone was already inside while the person was still counting to a 100,” Jaemin huffed as he stood up, now maintaining eye contact with Jeno.

“All too familiar with that situation, are we?” Haechan decided to butt in their conversation after hearing what Jaemin had said causing Jeno to barely hold back his laughter.

Back when they were kids, all the Lee children decided to play hide and seek, with Jaemin being the person to find them. They agreed upon this since he wasn’t a Lee, so he should be it. Jaemin started to count to ten, only to hear Haechan scream that he should repeat it and count to 100, and so he did. What Jaemin didn’t know was that Haechan had silently told everyone to go back inside to their respective rooms, and only show up until it was time for dinner. Let’s just say that Jaemin spent the whole night crying because he was so stupid, he even refused to eat dinner, he was so sure that he would be met with Haechan’s teasing nonstop. That is until a very thoughtful Jeno had brought food up to his room, and apologized on Haechan’s behalf.

“Shut up before I throw you into this river.” Jaemin said, challenging Haechan only for the latter to just shrug and continue his search.

“Christ it reeks in here.” Jaemin further complained, “At least it smells like rotten fish, not like rotten bodies.” Jeno countered. Jaemin stopped in his tracks to look at his best friend, “Is there a difference?”

“Jeno,” Haechan called and waved for him to come closer,

“What? Did you find something?” Jeno immediately went to his cousin’s direction.

“Of course not.” With that, Jeno smacked his cousin right on the head.

“Look, I don’t think there are any more places we could search. I mean we searched this place top to bottom already, I don’t think we missed anything.” Haechan said, looking up at his cousin.

Well technically, even if they did manage to find something, what would they do with it? There was no one to question, no one to blame, no suspects to interrogate, this was a tragedy caused by the victims themselves. The people who had died were the only suspects.

“People say that there was another attack here last night.” Haechan added as he stood up, Jeno tearing his gaze away from the waters of Han river and back to his cousin.

“Well then that’s great!” Jaemin exclaimed quite too enthusiastically. This only caused the Lee cousins to look at him as if he was the craziest man alive. Jaemin on the other hand, had just realized what he had said, he didn’t mean it that way.

“I mean– the new location, not the attack… Sorry ‘bout that. Let’s move along to the new crime scene shall we?” Jaemin finally exclaimed, fully ready to get going. He was already making his way towards the alleged crime scene when he was pulled back by Jeno.

“We can’t, it happened in Viper territory.” This only caused Jaemin and Haechan to look at each other then back at Jeno.

“And how did you know exactly where it had happened?” Jaemin asked, crossing his arms, Haechan just eyed him suspiciously, “My father had sent me to obtain any information they had regarding the very first attack. The second attack happened in the Poculum, a man suddenly collapsed and… well you know what happens next.”

“Well? Was any information obtained?” Haechan asked, his turn to cross his arms. Jeno only shook his head no. “She said they knew nothing.” A moment had passed in confused silence,

“She? She knew nothing?” Haechan echoed, Jaemin tilting his head rather very confused. “Who’s this ‘she’ we’re talking about?” Jaemin decided to also question Jeno. Jeno looked at the two of them, only to turn his gaze towards the murky waters of Han river. “Yeji Hwang,” He answered rather quietly. The two could only blink at Jeno, then suddenly a loud bang could be heard all throughout the dock, Haechan had accidentally knocked over the crates he was leaning on.

“Yeji?!” Haechan exclaimed,

“Yeji is back?!” Jaemin decided to add as well.

Jeno could only keep his gaze on the water. A sudden sharpness towards his chest, made its way to his head. The feeling did not go away no matter how hard he tried, hearing her name out loud definitely did not help. It hurt to even say her name.

Actually, not too far from here is where he had first met her. They were both still just kids, hoping to get away from their respective households. Jeno had decided to take a break from riding his bike to stop and sit by the Han river. Back then, it was much more clean and much more fresh. A very shocking contrast to the polluted and dirty water now. It was funny how the water, just like them, turned darker and darker over time. It was a symbol of how unclean and impure the water was, just like them. As time went on, the more bad things they had done. Causing their souls to get tainted. If people were all born with pure white souls, theirs would have been pitch black by now. Dark as the water in Han river.

Yeji just so happened to lose her balance right in front of him, cliche they know. Thankfully, a very sweet Jeno had helped her get back up. Ever since that day, they would meet everyday to just play and bike around. They were not Lees nor Hwangs, but simply just kids who played.

“Yeah, she is.” Jeno confirmed as his fists were balled against his sides. He let out a shaky breath as he stood up.

He had heard rumors of what Yeji had done, all the lives she took, crimes committed causing the people of Seoul to become terrified of the heiress. He had hoped that maybe those were just rumors, nothing but lies to scare enemies away, but when they confronted each other last night and had looked each other in the eyes, he knew that they were all true.

She was a killer, a criminal, violent, callous, and ruthless– that is what she was now.

He felt sorry for her, he didn’t want to, but he did. He couldn’t help the fact that the Yeji he knew way back was slowly disappearing now. If not, had completely disappeared. It didn’t settle nicely to him knowing that he was the cause of the sudden change of heart in her. In those 4 years she was gone, Jeno had still dreamed about her. In those 4 years, who couldn’t help but miss her. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her everything.

But he does not regret what he has done.

“What in the animal planet is this?” Haechan said as he crouched down to pick up the crates he had previously knocked over, only to find mysterious looking objects scattered on the floor.

At first glance, the mysterious objects looked like scattered peppercorns on the ground, maybe a merchant had unfortunately dropped their spices and refused to clean the mess up. But at further inspection, the so-called “peppercorns” had tiny legs and with dysmorphic bodies the size of an infant’s fingernail. It was pitch black and shiny as well. Haechan, realizing what he was holding were in fact, dead insects, had instantly dropped the insects on the floor with a loud yelp. The insects fell on the floor similar to how grains of rice were if they had been dropped.

Hearing Haechan suddenly yelp in disgust immediately alerted Jeno and Jaemin to head toward his way. When they reached the sight, all three were silent. The mysterious insects scattered on the ground were nothing like what they had seen before.

“Are those… dead flies?” Jaemin asked, unsure of himself.

“How are those dead flies when they can’t even fly? They don’t have wings,” Jeno said while he pointed to the closest insect near him. “Jaem check the other crates and Haechan give me your bag.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jeno only glared at him as he extended his arm out in order for Haechan to give him his bag. “But I just got this and it’s limited edition and I had to search–”

“Haechan,” Jeno warned, “Give me your bag.”

With a disgusted look on Haechan’s face, he gave Jeno his bag. He watched as his cousin scooped a handful of the insects and put them all in his bag. “Why couldn’t you just put them in your pockets for Christ’s sake.” Haechan complained as he was given his bag full of unidentified insects, “They would get squished obviously. Plus my pants are new.” Jeno said, giving Haechan a playful wink,this only caused Haechan’s eye to twitch.

“There’s nothing here,” Jaemin said as he was carefully putting the crates back in place, the two Lees were already making their way towards Jaemin when they heard voices of merchants coming their way. There was no sight of any Neo-owned fishing boat, that only meant they were in the vicinity of the Vipers.

“Perfect timing, might I add.” Haechan said as he looked at a panicking Jeno and Jaemin, and before the two could react, Haechan already gave them both a rough push. Soon enough, all three of them were quickly submerged in the polluted water of the Han river. They swam underneath the boardwalk in hopes of not getting seen by the incoming merchants. They heard distant voices quickly fading out in the background. As soon as the coast was clear, Jaemin grabbed a fistful of Haechan’s hair and submerged his head in the water.

“Ya! You didn’t have to push me! We could have just opted to hide behind the boats stupid-ass.” Jaemin said, as he released Haechan. “They were walking towards the boats smart-ass.” Haechan retorted as he splashed water towards Jaemin’s direction. While the two were arguing back and forth on what they should and should not have done, Jeno was busy scanning the whole area. Suddenly, a floating shoe had caught his attention. Leaving the two behind, Jeno swiftly swam to the said object. Upon further inspection, the shoe was what he thought it was.

“Oy!” He quickly called out, causing the two to stop and turn their attention to him. “Do you know who this belonged to?” The other two tilted their heads. “A stingy man who decided to take a swim here in Han river who managed to forget his shoe?” Jaemin asked sarcastically.

Haechan could no longer stand any more of their current situation so he started to swim towards the land while the two were quick to follow suit. As soon as they were back on their feet, Jeno called for the attention of the two.

“This belonged to the man who clawed himself to death last night, the man who died in the Poculum.” He grabbed Haechan’s bag as he started to walk away fast. “This means that the man was here too. Let’s go, we need to take this to Doyoung and Kun.”

“Can’t we at least change into some dry clothes?” Haechan said as he squeezed his polo shirt. Jeno only turned back and rolled his eyes, “You’ll be dry by the time you get–”

“Oy,” Jaemin suddenly interrupted, he suddenly narrowed his eyes at the water they were previously submerged in. “Did.. did you see that?”

When the two looked at the water, all they saw were their silly reflections staring back at them. They looked at Jaemin as if he was a mad man, but when they saw the look of confusion and disbelief on his face, something told them that Jaemin wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Are you trying to be funny right now, Jaem?” Haechan asked, quite annoyed causing Jaemin to look back at them. There was something on his dead-serious face that caused an uneasy feeling to settle in their guts. “Never..never mind. I thought I saw eyes in the water, holy shit I need to lay off drinking too much espressos.” He said, scrubbing his eyes.

“Where?” Jeno asked as he scooted towards Jaemin. “In the water, but it could have been just my imagination,” Jaemin said as he looked at Jeno.

“But why would you imagine eyes in the water?” Jeno asked as he grabbed Jaemin, a sign to get going.

“You’ve heard the whispers right?” Haechan asked, only causing the three of them to halt, yet again.

“A monster.”

Only then, when said out loud, did Jeno realize how unbelievable it was. A monster? Running loose in the city? Only for it to jump in the river? In broad daylight? Jasmine was right, it did remind him of all the scary stories he would tell her when they were younger. Jeno then beckoned his friends to start moving.

“You can’t seriously believe that, can you?” Jeno asked Haechan, picking up his pace.

“Hey you never know, you know? For all I care this madness could have been from the river or something like that.” Haechan said as he tried to match Jeno’s awfully fast pace. “Whatever, let’s just keep moving.”

By the time they arrived back near the Neo mansion, they had already been completely dried. Jeno had stopped abruptly in front of their lab, panting trying to catch his breath. This caused Haechan to accidentally topple and collide with Jeno. Jaemin in the meanwhile, lost his balance and was now holding on to Jeno’s arm like a lost child.

“Sorry, tripped on this.” Jaemin said as he regained his balance. It was a flyer from the rovers, aka the people who didn’t side with neither the Vipers nor the Neos. It had this written in big bold red letters: SAVE YOURSELVES FROM THE MADNESS, GET VACCINATED!

“Give me that,” Jeno demanded as he snatched the flyer from Jaemin, he quickly folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “Come on, they should be closing up by now.”

As they entered the building, no Neo employee bothered to tell them off. No one should be entering the lab at this hour, especially now since they were all excited to head home. But of course, Jeno Lee was above all laws, he was the Neo heir after all. The only reason these employees were even getting some sort of pay was because of him.

“Doyoung? Kun? Are you still here?” Jeno asked as they reached the second floor of the lab. The second floor was for the more trusted scientists such as Doyoung and Kun. They were the ones responsible for making powerful weapons that could bomb a whole house down.

“Up here!” A voice had exclaimed, Jeno immediately following the said voice in a quick motion. Jaemin and Haechan were already on the verge of collapsing, but they still followed him.

Upon their arrival, Kun could only furrow his brows. It was usually only just Jasmine or Jeno, he didn’t expect for other people to arrive. Nonetheless, guessing they were with Jeno, they were of high ranks as well.

“What brings you here today hmm?” Kun asked as he set down the tablecloth he had just used to wipe his counter. His part of the lab was much more organized and clean than what was presented downstairs. He and Doyoung would always fight on who had a cleaner workspace, only for Jasmine to mess both up. “If you’re here for the cartel, we’re not yet quite finished with that.”

Jeno could only wince. Of course Kun had assumed that Jeno was there to follow up on the drugs, what else could he be there for? Just before Kun could answer, his attention was already on Haechan and Jaemin, but more of the latter.

“Ah, Jaemin Na, at your service.” Jaemin said as he extended a hand, Kun had paused since he wasn’t used to none-Lees visiting, but he still accepted. He then turned his attention to Haechan.

“What?” Haechan asked, did he expect him to introduce himself? But he was a Lee, was he not? Surely he knew me, Haechan thought. Jaemin nudged Haechan by the rib causing him to extend his hand as well. “Lee. Haechan Lee.” Kun only stared at him for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. The three boys looked at each other, then looked at Kun. “I know.”

Haechan’s brow never twitched higher, causing Jaemin to laugh as well.

“We’re not here to nag you about the cartel, we need your opinion.” Jeno said as he set down his cousin’s bag, causing Haechan to grimace since he remembered what Jeno had placed inside. Jaemin also had a look of disgust on his face since they could hear the dead insects rattle inside.

“My opinion? Opinion on what?” Kun asked, a tad bit perplexed. “On this.”

Jeno dumped out all the contents inside the bag causing the insects to scatter all over Kun’s table. With no hesitation, Kun started poking and touching the insects, no sanitary measures whatsoever. This caused Jaemin to silently gag, and for Haechan to step back. “What is this exactly?” He asked, picking an insect up causing Haechan to further step back.

“We found them at the crime scene, where the first attack had happened.” Kun only looked at the insect closer. “So is this what you think may have caused the madness?”

Jeno, Jaemin, and Haechan could only look at each other.

You never know, you know? The words from his cousin suddenly echoed in Jeno’s head.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell us.” Jeno admitted, “It was the only evidence present anyways,”

“Or maybe a monster from the Han river had resurrected and decided to start this contagion.” Kun looked at Jaemin in a very, very, bored way. “Stop talking.” Haechan whispered to Jaemin, making him immediately shut up.

“That’s...interesting.” Kun suddenly said. The three thought that he was referring to Jaemin’s suggestion, turns out, he was referring to the insects.

“What’s interesting?” Jeno asked coming closer, beckoning Jaemin and Haechan to do so as well. Haechan had to shove Jaemin since he did not want anything to do with those mysterious looking peppercorns.

“I’ll show you.” Kun grabbed a lighter and lit one on fire. When the insect he had lit on fire started moving, so did the others left on the table. For a mere moment there, they thought that the insects were still alive. But when Kun put out the fire, the insect had stopped, and so did the ones on the table. “Whatever this thing is, it’s definitely not acting alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeno had asked, hoping that he had not.

“It follows something. Whatever that something commands.”

Oh this was definitely not a work of nature.

#jeno mafia au #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno x yeji #nct jeno #dreamzy #nct mafia au #jeno mafia #jaemin mafia #yeji mafia #yeji itzy #yeji soft packs #nct dream mafia #aespa mafia

[bnha-almost-a-hero]

ૢ✧∘*━━𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍,

a;n: ʰⁱ, ʰᵉˡˡᵒ. ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ˡᵒᵒˢᵉˡʸ ⁱⁿˢᵖⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ 'ᴸᵃ ᶜᵃˢᵃ ᴰᵉ ᴾᵃᵖᵉˡ'. ⁿᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁱˡᵉʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵒʳ ᵐʸ ʰᵉʳᵒ ᵃᶜᵃᵈᵉᵐⁱᵃ ⁱⁿᶜˡᵘᵈᵉᵈ. ᵃˡˢᵒ ⁿᵉʷ ᵇᵃʳᵒqᵘᵉ ˡᵃʸᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ'ˢ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵈᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ.

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬; yandere! shigaraki tomura, a blabbermouth! reader, dabi, toga himiko

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲; le casa de papel ⁽ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵏᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ˢᵃⁿᵉ, ˡᵐᵃᵒ⁻⁾

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; bank robbery, hostages, guns ⁽ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶦᵐᵃᵍᶦⁿᵉ ˢʰᶦᵍᵍʸ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵃ ᵍᵘⁿˀ⁾, stockholm syndrome, post apocalypse, a brief, shitty rant on evolution and socio-economics because...? i should have made a graphic, fuck—

The first thing a person does when the world ends is adapt.

It’s an animal’s first instinct to every major event in life. How can I survive this? How can I live to preserve my future? It takes a while, sure, but you learn to find a niche in the system—something left behind by the species before you. And you take that niche and you exploit it.

When the League of Villains had raided the bank you were in, you couldn’t help but wonder why no-one had done so sooner as your skin prickled and your body trembled. Banks were amongst the first buildings ransacked when the government body collapsed and a power vacuum emerged. 

After all, society had practically hammered in the idea that money was something one should strive to obtain since one entered schooling and learnt of jobs. And, Blu-Tacked to the walls of many a primary school, was a clip-art of a bank—representing both the letter ‘B’ and the far-off concept of money.

A civilisation's head was often the person with the most influence or possessions: both of which could be bought with money which was most concentrated in a bank. That’s why you had come here, you told the head of the operation, Shigaraki Tomura as he rounded up the hostages with the nozzle of a rifle.

“Shut up,” He muttered from behind the hand clinging to his face. You stared up at it for a moment as you knelt down and pressed your hands behind your head in surrender. Your eyes traced the knuckles, the notches, the imprints surrounding the fingernails. So lifelike, you think as you watch him turn and walk away, I wonder who sculpted it. 

The other hostages whimper beside you, heads meek in their disparity, but you can only smile. 

The world had truly and honestly went to shit.

“Don’t you find it odd?” You asked the man, Shigaraki, when he came to transfer you to the western atrium of the bank. Four of his fingers curled around your arm, cold to the frigid bone and with a grip that could crush ice. Still, you did nothing to stop him as he dragged you along, even taking a few steps of your own accord. You spoke once more, “Don’t you find it odd how banks make money out of thin air? How all they do is print paper and say, ‘Hey, this is worth something,’ and we all just go along with it?”

 Silence.

“I guess that kinda constitutes cult behaviour, right? I mean, what’s stopping someone from refusing to acknowledge the value of money?” You make a ponderous ‘hmm’ with your lips as Shigaraki stops. “On that thought, why is gold so valuable? It’s just a metal; it’s not even that useful. Then again some people eat it, so—”

Shigaraki’s thumb presses down hard onto your skin, followed by the nail of his index, “You talk too much,” He mutters. You look at the hand clinging to his face, wondering what adhesive he must have on it. Do adhesives even work on clay, you wonder, or maybe it’s a clouded plastic? He reaches his other hand up to scratch at his neck, the third time today that he’s done so. “It pisses me off.”

“Where’d you get that hand from?” You ask, feeling like an idiot when his red eyes flit towards yours. A part of your mind asks if maybe you’ve poked this bear a little too much, but you shake your head, it’s just a fake hand. “Like, does it have a sculptor tag on that brass thing at the bottom?”

Your hand reaches out to grab at the golden lining at the bottom of the hand, but Shigaraki veers back suddenly and swats your hand away.

“Don’t touch Father!” His voice is almost a shriek in its highness, yet there still is a brash rasp to it that you recognise. With a brief movement, you snatch your hand back to rest it against your chest—crestfallen. Shigaraki straightens up at once, eyes narrowing to a flash of red before he turns and stomps off.

Your lips part, but the wheeze that escapes it betrays your total bewilderment at the situation. You stand there, watching as his gaunt form disappears through the door at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and fingers twitching as the last of your adrenaline dissipates.

“Another tantrum?” A voice says behind you, you jump. “I’m not surprised anymore. Never thought he’d snap after you, though.”

You twist around, eyes remarking the tall, willowy figure behind you. Dabi, his name is, the one who’s been half-assedly threatening the hostages since the heist started. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Dabi chuckles and pushes past you, then turns so you can see one frighteningly blue eye beneath the expanse of black hair. “You’ll see, doll.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to them so much,” Izumi murmurs to you when all of the hostages are rounded up in the morning. Your poor ‘hostage-buddy’ had gone pale ever since the League had crashed through the door, their eyes glassy and red. “They’re—” They pause, looks around for a second. “They’re villains.”

You nod along to them, though your eyes are trained to Shigaraki who’s going about overseeing the sorting of hostages. Your belly still simmered with uneasy guilt when you thought back to the incident three days ago. He was obviously attached to the hand—you knew that—and yet you had reached out to touch it without permission like an—

“Idiot,” You murmured, kicking the marble flooring with the tip of your shoe. 

“What?” Izumi whispered, although they stiffened as Himiko Toga came skipping along.

“Noth—,” You yourself stiffened when Toga came at a standstill before you, slitted eyes peering into your soul. 

She smiled a wicked smile, then spoke, “I need to have a talk with you!”

You gulped. Beside you, Izumi shivered and stepped forward, about to speak but upon glancing the blade settled at Toga’s hip, fell stiff and silent. You couldn’t blame them, though, you would’ve done the same thing.

“Sure,” You stated, attempting to put a smile on your face, if only to settle Izumi’s nerves. 

Oddly, Toga reached out to grab your hand, tugging you along to the eastern corridor. You passed Shigaraki on your way, who turned his head to regard you and Toga. Was that anger you caught in his eyes as he looked over at Toga? You thought nothing of it. 

Toga hummed a hymn as she lead you further and further into the bank until you were just in front of the printing room. This is where money is made, you thought, staring dumbly at the steel, vault door. This is the heart of the world.

Toga giggled at the look you gave the door, “Tomura had the same face when he saw it. He was less happy when he found out that he couldn’t get it open.” Toga pressed a palm flat against the door. “It has a Quirk-cancelling force field around it, so we’re stuck here until we can get the door off.”

“That’s why you’re still keeping hostages,” The remark is a rouge thought vocalised.

Toga nods, “Yeah, there were some pesky heroes outside looking for you guys, but Spinner’s got rid of them.” She makes a gun motion with her hands, you gulp. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I came here to talk about boys!”

“Boys?” You ask, a little confused and a little indignant. “We’re in a hostage situation!”

“Yeah, I know, but I noticed that Tomura’s taken a liking to you.” She boops you on the nose. “Well, he’s liked you for a long, long time, but he’s finally got to be close to you. I wish it was like that with my Izuku.”

The identity of Izuku is the least puzzling thing about that sentence.

“For a long time, what?” You blurt out. 

“He was in love with you before the End happened,” Toga smiled, stepping closer to you. “He was so sad because he thought you died, imagine how happy he was to find you here!” Toga babbled on, “He’s not too happy about that Izumi guy that’s always following you around, though. If I were him I would’ve have gotten rid of them, but—”

Your mind leapt. Izumi, you’d left them alone with a bunch of villains. You turn your gaze toward Toga, who seems lost in her own conversation before looking behind you. The door leading out of the hallways seemed so far, although if you were fast enough, it would be easy to just run there. 

With a final glance to Toga, you turn and get ready to start running. A hand against your arm and a blade against your back stops you, however.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

#shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki imagine #tw: yandere #🙴 my work. #˙˚*:･ﾟ༻series: adaptation

[natamoko]

UNEARTHED by @nakamoto

for @11thsense (3.7K)

(There is a reason why Aidonsvalley stands alone, makes its own decisions, attracts and denies, takes and leaves. There is a reason why it has a heart of its own.)

On the door of the Church of St. Agnes, a page was stamped: “1 PETER 2:4-6 — As you come to him, the living Stone - rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him - you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.”

A crimson thumbprint was displayed alongside the words, and Raheem didn’t know whether to take it as some extremely obvious omen or something that should be ignored. He shrugged and went on his way. He had things to do. Nothing necessary, of course.

Aidonsvalley attracted a healthy amount of tourists due to its strange nature. The sun appeared at dawn and left at dusk just like it did everywhere else in the world. Everything worked as it should, but evidently something was amiss. The land chose what it acquired and what it discarded. It chose what it claimed and what it dismissed. And if you did everything right, (and you had to—those who didn’t could never die, those who didn’t would wander and lead a life of toil forever) then the land embraced you warmly enough and you would never get to leave. Raheem had been claimed not too long ago. Partially because of his transformation when he was fifteen, partially for a reason he had not yet understood. That knowledge was long overdue.

Aidonsvalley loved the supernatural, he knew that much.

Despite the wonders it did for the town’s tourism, he couldn’t help but mess with the newcomers everytime they arrived. They marvelled at the aging billboards (“Look, honey, this is the ‘56 ad! From the D’Arcy era; you know I love my beverage trivia—”) and the churches at every corner, more churches than convenience stores. They usually arrived in the evening times when it was cooler, because that was when the neon electronic advertisements would light up. No one ever donated their used dreams, but they sure loved staring at it.

Raheem, from a folding chair situated near a rhododendron bush, noted that these particular tourists looked alike, but not so much that you could mistake them for siblings. They were both wiry and tall, limp blonde hair; one was pulled back in almost identical ponytails, while the other was closely and badly shaven. Diligently poring over the maps in their hands.

The couple peered at the statue before them—Edmund Aidon, the founder of the town. His image was said to be greatly exaggerated, as his biceps were larger than what seemed humanly possible, and his canines were unusually blunt. Still, he looked important, so tourists adored him.

The woman, the one with a fascination for old Coca Cola television advertisements, tapped lightly against Aidon’s thigh. Her partner asked, “Isn’t it magnificent?”

“I’m not too sure,” she said, giving it another light knock before straightening and snapping a photo. “Smile, Edmund Aidon. 1834 to 1911. Timor dei in terra. I think that’s his own personal motto, or maybe something for the town. You studied Latin in school, Geoff, what does that say?”

“All I got was ‘terra’,” he said with a shrug, “Land. And are you okay? Why are you obsessed with that thing?”

Raheem had never offered the statue anything other than a sidewards glance. The tourists in the area generally camped near the lake, hoping to catch sight of the legendary local siren (or something close to that—there wasn’t a word to accurately describe her). Or sometimes they lingered near one of the many churches, over-analysing the scripts hung to the doorposts or trying to catch a word or two from one of the sermons. A rumour had started spreading amongst the tourists a while ago of demons being summoned in church, the house of God being used as a cover. As a demon himself, Raheem knew that was untrue. But its unlikeliness didn’t stop the persistent, eager tourists.

If they were going to remain here, poking at the statue and conversing, they should spend some money on him and make themselves useful. Raheem continued listening to their conversation, considering whether he should use his influence. But unfortunately, he wasn’t really in the mood to make them both walk off the pier, hand in hand, and become April’s supper, or cause them to develop a sudden intense fascination with his father’s restaurant.

The woman turned to her partner. Raheem could see her face from here, all sunburned skin and worry in her eyes. She scratched at her crooked nose and gave the statue one last tap. “I don’t know. It feels hollow, almost. Forgive me for this, but slightly corrugated, even.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” ‘Geoff’ said, not even bothering to check for himself. Idiot. “The guide says it’s made of marble. Marble doesn’t echo.”

“This does.” She sighed and stood up. “Whatever. We should head to the hotel now. I’m starving.”

• • •

It started with Alex losing sleep. Then his jaw would begin to grind against itself while he was both sleeping and awake. His eyes would redden and become sore, the skin on the tips of his fingers would begin ache before breaking and bleed in preparation of what would happen next.

It did not matter whether he was indoors or out, visible to the moon or hidden, awake or asleep. It was an inevitable part of his life. There would be a chanting in his head (run run run), the urge to find someone and pull them apart. Then there would be prey underneath his fingernails and between his teeth, blood would taste more like fear than copper, and the ground would move beneath his feet so quickly it would hear but beneath him. When the sun would rise he would become still and straighten and look eastwards, then shortly find himself waking on the forest floor. That was routine.

This moon was particularly awful. Coffee severely worsened things, made the readjusting of bones so much more painful, and he had been drinking it no less than ten hours ago in order to stay awake and supervise his younger sister’s recent dressmaking project. His parents were not pleased with him being left in charge, especially since the moon was so close, but there had been no one else.

Alex picked a piece of bone from between his teeth, imagining it came from his father’s femur or his mother’s skull. They were the more harmless Aidonsvalley folk—or, at least, the sort that believed themselves to be harmless when they were just weak—and he despised them for it. They were related to him but were not his family.

He suddenly felt around for his glasses’ case. He was not especially helpless without them, but they were the key to looking relatively normal. Only a select few people knew who he was. His moon-addled mind had concluded that his glasses were the key to stopping the residents of Aidonsvalley from looking too closely at him and figuring out exactly what was wrong.

Alex gave up and struggled to his feet, holding a tree for support. Within the forest stood an oak, with the beginnings of a treehouse balanced atop it.

He grinned. It’ll never be finished. Aidonsvalley chose what to keep and what to throw away, and buildings would never be included in the former. The most recent home that hadn’t been destroyed by the town had been built in the mid-twentieth century. It was just another strange part of the town that Alex was simply not particularly interested in solving. However he did like to reminisce about Anita Darlington’s attempt to build a windmill when Alex was younger. She was his aging neighbour, and spent an entire season constructing her windmill, which stood next to her vegetable garden.

It was struck by lightning less than an hour after it’s completion. Alex had been riding his bicycle next to her house when the incident occurred. He still remembered the flash in the sky moving downwards, his hammering heart, the smell of burning wood. He remembered the fright in his chest and Umi’s terrified face. He remembered how pleasant of a day it had been beforehand: warm, but not overbearingly so. Not a single rain-cloud had been sighted.

•••

“I’m telling you,” Raheem insisted, his hand holding onto Umi’s upper arm. “I’ve never seen someone stare at it for so long. You have a good eye—”

“So do you,” said Umi. He gave the statue a gentle knock and frowned. “It feels cheap. Too light. It’s almost like sandpaper. I’ve felt something like this before.”

A week had passed since the incident with the tourists, and Raheem had spent it scamming them by selling useless trinkets and completely fake stories about the origin of the town’s strangeness. He usually undertook little projects throughout the year, but it was summer and he deserved somewhat of a break. The ancient Coca Cola bottle he found buried in his garden and had subsequently sold to the blonde, observant woman would support his expensive lifestyle for at least a week at most.

If Raheem scraped the top layer of the soil in his garden, he could find enough things to set up his own museum. It was not a phenomena exclusive to him, and additionally, no one knew where all those things came from originally. Once, when uprooting weeds, one of the townsfolk, Amara, had discovered that her front garden was soaked in blood, not water. That explained why she couldn’t grow anything more demanding than cress.

Kel took Umi’s hand. He had sort of forced himself into this boring excuse of an adventure, but Raheem didn’t mind because he didn’t mind Kel. He was quite fond of anyone who sought out an entertaining experience.

“Never knew a tourist would work you up this much,” said Kel cheerfully, before pointing to a mark behind Edmund Aidon’s knee. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Looks like a square,” said Umi, leaning forward to see it clearer. “How did you spot this anyway?”

“Not sure,” answered Kel, despite obviously knowing that the mark had shifted itself, working up towards their line of sight so it could be seen. Those sort of things were ignored here. Everything had a life, and its own motives and ambitions. “In my opinion, it looks like a jackhammer, a bit. If you turn your head and squint.”

“No it does not,” said Raheem, annoyed. “It’s a cradle.”

Yes, it did appear to be a cradle the longer he looked at it. The thin bars grew clearer. Somehow he could tell it was wooden. But something about it all wasn’t right—it didn’t look like something carved into the statue. Rather, something that had been a part of it ever since it was constructed. Aidonsvalley didn’t have a symbol, official or unofficial. Something strange was certainly going on. Raheem wasn’t sure if he wanted to dig deeper.

“This is odd,” remarked Umi. “This is the only thing that survives Aidon—no other records as far as I know, and there’s something carved here. Should we look into it?”

“Maybe,” said Kel. “This isn’t very strange for this town, but it’ll be fun to investigate. But where? The library won’t be much help. They don’t keep records there.”

The only library in Aidonsvalley was this stuffy building from the early twentieth century that held absolutely nothing of value. Investigative material couldn’t be brought in for some reason or the other. It was all rejected in some form. The town archives had to be kept elsewhere because of it. As a demonstration of this fact, once, the mayor's niece Stephanie Murray attempted to trace the nearby lake’s history. Her paper had promptly burst into flames, and she decided to complete her project in a café maybe an hour or two away from the town. Really, the only thing the library had going for it was its complete Toni Morrison collection.

“They keep the town’s archive in the church on main street,” said Umi. “You know the one: St. Agnes. Apparently there’s a cellar underneath the altar, but I can’t be too sure.” He turned to Raheem, expressionless. Unsure. “Look, if you can find a way to get in, I’ll help you out. You know I’m not too certain.”

“I know,” replied Raheem brightly. “Doubting Thomas. Do you even think there’s something strange afoot?”

“Well there’s always something going on here,” said Umi, affronted. “If we get caught, it’s your fault. I’ll get Alex in on this as well, it’ll make things easier, I think.” Pause. “Do you want to get ice-cream with us?”

He waved a dismissive hand and turned back to Aidon. “Sure. Go ahead, I just need to check something.”

The two waved—Umi visibly confused but still sure in his own decision, Kel apprehensive and glancing around—and made their way to the nearby parlour.

Raheem placed his hand flat against the statue. Something shifted beneath his touch, he heard a faint noise like a beating drum, and he frowned.

Half an hour later on the other side of town, Alex stood at the lakeside. The lake beside Aidonsvalley (still technically within the town but somewhat shoved to the side) was the subject of many rumours. The tourists all cleared out before the sun had fully set, interested in what apparently went down beside the lake, but still in possession of some sense of self-preservation. Unfortunately, Alex did not have the aforementioned sense of self-preservation.

The only harm that could possibly befall him was if he lost his balance and fell down into the lake. There were pointed rocks below, carefully sharpened at dawn and at dusk, and if he pierced any part of his body, he most certainly would not survive that experience.

There was someone standing on the jetty above the lake. Alex recognised him as one of the Fallow brothers, three siblings from a family of mechanics. They handled the people who “washed up at the town’s shores,” fixed their cars, cleared their memories and sent them away. He was a high school student. Perfectly average. Nearly unnoticed. Graduating this fall.

And April was also below him, treading the water. Her hair floated on the surface. Alex averted his gaze, half out of respect and half to avoid her hypnotic technique. But he still saw her from the corner of his eyes, saw the way she unhinged her jaw and said the Fallow boy’s name: Matthew, in a voice she didn’t possess.

The boy moved closer to the ledge. He crouched and peered through the water. April’s power was clouding the air, turning it green. Matthew moved slowly, as if he were running through a lime cloud as if in a trance. Or a dream. Then he called for his mother and April responded in kind. He, foolishly, reached for the water, looking at her face and seeing his late mother instead of what she truly was. April grabbed his wrist and pulled.

He toppled over easily, and didn’t struggle until April sank her teeth into his neck. He flailed desperately and cried out from under the water. His movements slowed with every second until he finally fell still.

April emerged from the lake a moment later, her upper half collapsing on the ledge. She looked up at Alex and grinned. “It’s rude to watch a siren eat, you know.”

“Really?”

“No,” she said, “But it is an indicator that you’re the main entrée.” Her smile widened. “Kidding, I love you.”

Alex continued to watch the water. “He wasn’t claimed, you know. He can’t die until he gets things right. I’d expect to find him in the sewers. Or in the church.”

“Why’d you think I chose him?” April questioned. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Alex reminded her of the time he saved her from these ‘low-quality’ whalers, as he dubbed it. She owed him, she even said that earlier. Then he told her that he needed her help breaking into her uncle’s church. Her hand shot out so fast, tightening around his earlobe, that he shouted and wobbled perilously on the edge.

“Idiot,” she chastised, “Why’d you wanna do that?”

April had this unfortunate habit of being constantly hesitant. It was not a con, for sure, but it certainly hindered any interesting activities Alex thought up. This was the wrong time to be careful, he reckoned, because if there was a mystery surrounding Aidonsvalley, then it was bound to be serious. She should know this.

“Something weird is happening,” said Alex, separating her fingers from around his ear and trying to keep his tone light. If he appeared to be desperate, she might decline just to fuck with him. “Raheem told me.”

“Raheem is a compulsive liar.”

“Not to me.”

He belatedly realised that it was the wrong thing to say.

“No,” April answered with a grin. “Not to you.”

Sensing a serious change of subject, Alex quickly arranged himself to a sitting position further up on the ledge. He balanced his chin against his palm and gave her a long look. She raised her brows in turn.

“Do you not have the stomach for this, April?”

“Of course I have the stomach for this,” she snapped. “I’m just careful, unlike you lot.” She paused. “I’ll help you plan your little heist, but don’t tell me what it’s for.” Despite herself, April grinned at him. “If that happens, I’ll get really interested. Things will all go down from there.”

•••

Raheem sat on the stone steps of St. Agnes, a book in hand. It was in French, a language he didn’t recall ever learning, but he could understand it perfectly. Strange. Even stranger was the fact that he could not walk past the altar for some reason, so Alex and Umi were the ones who had to retrieve the appropriate town records. Raheem was not pleased. He started this adventure, but had been forced to play whistleblower instead.

“How annoying,” he said as his phone began to ring.

“Found something about the town’s origins,” said Umi, breathing hard. From a distance, Raheem heard Alex laugh. “None about Edmund Aidon himself, though. I’m beginning to doubt his existence.”

“Tell me more. Is it interesting?”

A sharp inhale. “Oh, very.”

And it went like this:

The Preston’s were a family known for their hatred for supernatural creatures and how they exercised the aforementioned hatred. Once they were a few generations into the family practice of murder, several other families joined together with them to help achieve their shared goals. They called themselves The Cradle. Soon enough a town was founded for the five thousand or so members, and its name was unpronounceable.

About a century after the town’s creation, someone received word of a counterattack. In just a matter of days, vampires, werewolves and other supernaturals would band together and burn the town to the ground. Fearing something a little worse than death, the townsfolk hypocritically sought out a method to save them. They selected a random person in the town and made them live forever. The exact method, Umi stated, was not stated. Then the other townsfolk transformed themselves into the town—they knocked down the church and all the homes and created new walls out of their own flesh. The altar was made of bone. They drained the lake and replaced it with their own blood. The grass and the trees were fertilised with people, and the person they left behind was meant to bring them back once the danger had been averted, but they didn’t.

With a chill creeping down his spine, Raheem noted that the person might still be in Aidonsvalley. He glanced around in worry for a moment, as if the person might just be standing at his shoulder. Thankfully no such thing existed, but something else attracted his attention.

A porcelain statue near the church’s pillar, of a mother holding its child. It could be mistaken for Mary and the baby Jesus, but its features were hauntingly realistic and unlike the usual paintings of the Madonna and child. Beneath the porcelain was flesh, presumably. Raheem stared at the child holding his mother’s finger, sat in her lap, and felt a feeling both strong and indescribable.

“So presumably Aidon came across an already furnished yet empty town, then re-established it,” said Raheem, “But if that’s the case, wouldn’t there be anything about him? It’s like he just sprouted here.”

Things in this town tended to do that, he reminded himself. He was used to everything here. The tourist had described the statue in a strange manner. Slightly corrugated. That could mean skin, but it was hollow—

“There’s a chance that he was the person left behind,” said Umi slowly, “and no one ever thought to write it down since he’s a constant. You wouldn’t take note of the colour of the sky everyday? It’s either blue, red and sometimes black. We know that.”

They both hung up after Umi agreed to finish up shortly. Kel joined Raheem on the steps, very carefully not meeting his eyes. Perhaps the blue colour was too bright for this time at night, Raheem told himself.

The more Kel touched a stone step with his fingertips, the more it wore away until it revealed a portion of a face. Grey-skinned, open-mouthed, expression trapped somewhere between terror and exhilaration. The person’s eyes, fixed skywards, slowly lolled down to look directly at Kel. If its mouth was visible, Raheem would have received confirmation that it was smiling.

That was two incidents now, he stated privately as his heart jumped. The first was the cradle appearing just as Kel drew near, the second was the face.

When Umi and Alex returned and led the other two away, the stone replaced itself and the face was safely hidden away. As the four followed the path they had followed for well over a decade, Raheem distinctively felt like he was being watched. Perhaps it had always been this way, but now that he knew that Aidonsvalley was a real, living, breathing town, he felt it strongly.

There was one thing he knew for sure, though. When he would eventually sit in his living room, surrounded by relatives that were not family, and press his head against the wall, he would hear breathing. A deep inhale and exhale. It makes the whole world shake, but he’s the only one who feels it. He’s one of the only people that knows this town is made of living stone.

#im taking exams at the moment so if this feels rushed that's why #but anyway i just wanted to write an explanation on why aidonsvalley is Like This to some extent #inspiration came from that one time i heard something breathing in my living room wall while i was praying with my family #my writing

[berrykook]

can’t bear it (y!hs)

set in the overtime universe

in which hoseok is just trying to help you understand that he knows what’s best for you and you feel yourself start to slip

contents: yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, “gaslighting” / manipulation, vomit, gore / mutilation, good/bad little girl rhetoric

word count: 3.7k

a/n: thanks for the request !! i had fun writing it heheh

i’m tagging gaslighting in quotations because i feel like hoseok is like,, KiNdA gaslighting but pretty lightly

also idk why my mc’s always be throwing up LOL it’s just for a second i swear

my inbox is open for yandere requests! i do not write non-con, hitting (punching, slapping, etc.), or ddlg / ageplay (in this fic i included good/bad little girl rhetoric because i thought it would make hoseok seem more spooky but otherwise i do not write ageplay --- use of word daddy is ok)

lmk what u guys think!

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ 

Your stomach softly growled as you stared down into your takeout box of noodles and studied the way the sauce doesn’t cling to some vegetables. Hoseok ordered your favorite again, but you couldn’t remember ever loving this dish. He must have been referring to the time before he brought you to live with him (an incident in which your head was hit very hard).

Hoseok stared at you like he always did, refusing to eat until he saw you take the first bite. He sat with his hands folded, watching you and your hazy mind work through dinnertime. All you had to do was pick up your chopsticks and eat, but something in you could not bring yourself to do so.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Not hungry?”

Whether it was intentional or not, Hoseok’s tone never came out of the woods. He spoke slowly in low tones as if he was always ready to pounce on you. You wondered if he spoke to his employees the same way.

You gingerly picked up your chopsticks.

“You haven’t been eating well lately. Is something wrong?” Hoseok is wringing his hands now. You began to stare back at him.

You remained silent for a long moment before saying clearly, “Yes. I don’t feel well.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue, rising from his seat across from you to sit next to you instead. He rests his hand on yours. Hoseok wasn’t overly affectionate which you were lucky for at the beginning of this relationship, but you now felt touch-starved and undesirable. He held an immense amount of power over you and he knew it too.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he mumbled, placing a palm against your forehead. “You’re not warm. I seriously doubt you’re sick, you never are. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” He leaned in closer.

You held back a huff of frustration, knowing how angry he got when you weren’t his perfect little girl. Hoseok knew exactly how to get under your skin and scare you shitless. If you weren’t careful and deliberate with every motion, every phrase, every word, he would catch on in a heartbeat and do whatever it took to show you he owned you. It only took three days in his basement for you to confess your love for him and start begging to be let out.

You fidgeted nervously, quickly glancing at the front door behind Hoseok. He hadn’t let you out in nearly six months and as much as you loved him, you were beginning to get antsy.

Hoseok was scary, but treated you well. He thoroughly explained on several occasions how much you needed him and how he loved you so deeply that it was in his very nature to keep you protected from the world like this. He even let you free from being chained in his basement after only a couple weeks, which was awesome! Hoseok never called himself your boyfriend, but you figured he was close enough. He fed you when you weren’t being bad and he recited his love for you often. It terrified you when you first met that time you woke up in his basement, but with time you found yourself believing him more and more. This was not living, but you were becoming so far gone from your past that it seemed like perhaps this sheltered life was what you were meant to receive.

Hoseok studied you deeply, noticing immediately how your eyes darted behind him at the front door. He sighed, mentally preparing himself to pull out all the stops to get the idea out of your pretty little head.

“Mm, baby, are you bored? Did you want to go outside?” He smiled a bit, stroking the back of your head and looking at you sweetly.

Immediately, you furrowed your brows and gripped his hand tighter. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“You must be tired of being cooped up in the house all day...don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

Hoseok stood up, placing a hand on your back to guide you up as well.

“H-Hobi, I don’t need to. I don’t mind staying inside…” you said bashfully, tugging his hand to lead him back into his chair.

His smile was wide like the Cheshire Cat’s. He reached to hold your face by your chin.

“No, I’m sure you must be going crazy being in here all day. Let’s go outside. Maybe you can run around a bit so your appetite can return.”

You weren’t stupid. You saw from the windows that Hoseok lived in a deep forest and made a lengthy commute each day to the city for his work. Perhaps Hoseok was feeling particularly sadistic today. You had been on your best behavior as of late - you listened well, ate when you didn’t feel ill, wore what he chose for you, told him you loved him and cuddled him and let him kiss you. His obtuseness came completely out of left field. You were the best little girl you could be - it made no sense.

“Hobi, I’m really hungry now. I would like to eat.” By the end of your statement, you were whispering fearfully as he was now leaning in close enough to kiss you.

“Don’t be silly. I saw you looking at the door. Come on,” he tugged you along, bending to tie your shoes for you.

“Hoseok, I really think I should go eat, please. I don’t want to go outside, it’ll be cold and dark and we’re in the forest, pl-”

“You know you want to leave. Don’t you? Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago you were saying you wanted to leave me?”

You’re crying now. “No! Please, I don’t want to leave, I love you, I swear! Hobi, I’ve changed!” Hoseok ignores your cries, pushing you out the front door with a smack on your ass.

“Be back in an hour, sweetheart. I don’t want the wild animals to find you.”

He slammed the door in your face and you began to hyperventilate for a moment. You knew he didn’t retreat from his spot at the door and he could clearly hear your cries. How did just looking at the door for a moment lead to this?

You spent a few minutes on your knees, bawling into your hands on the front porch. The tall forest prematurely made it nightfall at the ground level. After another few minutes, something caught your eye deeper into the woods. You stood slowly, hoping you were correct.

It was a car. A parked red van within walking distance of Hoseok’s house. Your legs moved on their own towards it. You were certain it didn’t belong to Hoseok as you kissed him goodbye from outside his black sedan each day. The drive to get away from Hoseok kicked in like a horse as you began running towards this car, desperate for help or some more information on where in the country the house was. If you were lucky, somebody would be in the car.

You were close enough to read the license plate when a searing pain shot through your leg and burned every cell in your body. You fell forward, coughing up a bit of your stomach after. You screamed for a moment, but then your body stopped taking in air effectively and you were left on the ground like a fish out of water.

You sobbed, desperately searching for a switch or button to release the contraption stuck around your ankle. Just a few yards from the car, chained to a tree was a steel bear trap that you stepped into perfectly. The claws dug well into the flesh on your leg, pouring blood over the forest floor as your heartbeat became erratic. Its jaws were locked far too strongly for you to pry apart. The house was barely visible to you now as the sun set completely and you were utterly stuck by this soccer mom van in the middle of god knows where.

The clock continued to tick as your hour of “freedom” was coming to a close. You wanted to throw up again at the sight of yourself. You nearly called out to Hoseok for help, but restrained yourself quickly. He was right - he always was. He was right for keeping you inside the way he did. You couldn’t even run half a mile into the forest without getting caught in a bear trap. The clinking of metal chains reminded you of your time in Hoseok’s basement and how cold it was and how hungry you became. You were hungry now as well, even through the nausea, and you let out a sad cry as your stomach growled angrily again. If Hoseok ever saved you again, you would eat everything he put in front of you with gusto. You leaned your head against the thick trunk of the tree you were chained to and watched the bugs on the floor crawl by. Your heart twinged as you missed Hoseok after just an hour apart. You felt you were no better than the insects you were watching. 

The pain in your leg was unlike anything you had felt before. You knew it was unrealistic to die from a bear trap, but you felt like you were at the brink. You had long since given up trying to claw the trap apart, stopping when the third of your fingernails split. The blood from your ankle made its way all over the white sweater Hoseok had picked out for you that morning. Hopefully an actual bear would come by and put you out of your misery before Hoseok could come by and chastise you for getting your clothes dirty.

Eventually, you heard his voice through the trees. “Sweetheart!” His voice sang and you panicked at the thought of how angry he would be that you got yourself hurt. You saw a light coming from the direction of your house and you braced yourself to soon be found.

You didn’t have the energy to yell back at him, so you waited for him to find you instead. Hoseok was smarter than you would like to admit and he obviously already knew that you wouldn’t make it far. Yet, he took his sweet, sweet time searching for you.

Eventually, his flashlight landed on your chest and you looked away, nervous to see him. He sighed.

“Oh, baby...look what you did,” he tsked. He stood above you with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He made a noise of disdain when your lower lip began to tremble. “Hurts, doesn’t it? I would help make it all better, but you’ve been such a bad girl lately. I thought you knew better than to go outside, but I guess you just couldn’t listen to me.”

You covered your mouth to hide your snivelling. “I’m s-so sorry!”

“I know you are, baby. See, if you listen to me and stay inside like a good girl, then these things won’t happen. What am I gonna do with you?” Hoseok bent down to face level with you, still sitting against the tree trunk shivering in immense pain. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and earlier you sure made it clear that you don’t want to be in my house with me…”

You sobbed, reaching to hold his shoulders. “No! I want to go back home and be with you. I’m sorry for being ungrateful, I just want to be with you!” Hoseok clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Is that really what you want, baby? You really want to come back and live with me?” Hoseok spoke slowly, letting you marinate in the ache of your calf. He knew you loved him. Putting you in solitary confinement for the first two months was more than enough for you to worship the ground he walks on. Some days, he just needed to tease you a little.

“Yes, please. I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you, I swear.” Hoseok stared at you with a smile before taking your face into his hands and kissing you for a long moment.

“Good. Jin-hyung is going to help you with your leg, okay?”

Hoseok fishes in his pockets before pulling out a silver key and unlocking the chains around the tree.

“Wow, baby, you must have really run into this trap for it to have closed on you so hard...we better take it out in the house.”

You stared at him in shock. “This...this trap was yours?” Hoseok smoothed the top of your head.

“Everything on this land is mine,” he hissed with a sweet smile. 

“B-but, I’ve never seen you drive this car. And why do you have bear traps!? You don’t hunt, Hoseok!” You are steadily becoming more hysterical and Hoseok sighs, hugging you to him. You holler at the pain of him shifting your leg.

“Baby, this is Jungkook’s car. You remember him, right? He’s taking his fianceè to Busan soon and they’ll need a car to hold their kids someday. He’s keeping it here because his apartment only gives him one parking space.” Hoseok kisses your cheek, rubbing your back when your crying intensifies. Ah, he’ll need to bring you back home soon before you lose too much blood. “You can understand that, can’t you?”

Hyperventilating on top of a foot caught in a bear trap had you lightheaded. You rested your cheek against Hoseok’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to get this off my foot?” You sobbed.

Hoseok cooed, rubbing your back a little harder. “I thought you knew what’s best for yourself...since you’re such a big girl and you always take ca-”

You cut him off with a wail. “Hoseok, please help me! I’ll die here, please!” He hissed at your yelling on his shoulder.

“Shh, stop that! Ah, I guess I can try and help you get back to the house. I thought you didn’t need someone like me…” Hoseok got started on unchaining the trap.

“No, I-I do need you! I’m sorry, I’ll never act out again…” you mumbled ashamedly. Hoseok heaved you up with a pained scream from you. He kissed your cheek in a lame attempt to calm you.

“Yeah? Are you going to be my good girl and stay inside the house?”

You cried a bit harder when he said this, remembering how you bawled on his front steps after he shut the door on you.

“Yes, I promise,” you whimpered.

“Good. Jin-hyung will be here in an hour to help fix you. Shh, don’t cry, I know it’s a long time,” he whispered to you. You cried all the way to the house and all the way down the concrete stairs to Hoseok’s basement.

“I don’t like it here, Hobi, please...can’t we go somewhere else?” Hoseok calmed your weeping by playing with your hair.

“This is what’s best. I’m here with you, my love...remember I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead softly. “We’ll get you out of this mess.”

You wrapped your hands around the sheets of the bed Hoseok placed you on and writhed in agony.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, still crying softly.

Hoseok cooed, “Aw, my baby…”

The anger within you began to rise like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was being back in this bed under Hoseok’s house, or perhaps you were finally understanding the lengths Hoseok would go to in order to claim you. The throbbing in your ankle aligned with a new throbbing in your head. Hoseok lay with you on the bed you woke up chained to all those months ago when he first took you. It took three strokes to the top of our head for you to snap.

“You did this to me,” you whispered, turning your face away from him.

Hoseok stopped stroking your hair as if he had just been doused with cold water.

“Huh? Say that again for me, baby, I didn’t quite hear you.” Hoseok tangled his fingers in your hair. You braced yourself for a harsh tug.

“This is your trap. I didn’t even want to go outside. I wasn’t even being bad.”

You didn’t force yourself to look at him as you spoke. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had stood up to him...was it recent? Wasn’t it during those first three days in his basement? It felt like a dream.

“I’ve been perfect these last few months. You kidnapped me yet I have been perfect for you! I didn’t deserve this!” You were steadily becoming hysterical. It felt good to let yourself become unraveled after weeks of living complacently in his clutch. Hoseok still hadn’t said anything, still keeping his hand gently against your scalp.

“How could you do this to me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me and you put me in a bear trap for what? Not eating my dinner? I didn’t eat because you make me sick!”

At this point, Hoseok began calmly rising from the bed and making his way over to your trapped foot. You barely noticed, too wound up in your angry rant. You didn’t care anymore. There was just no right way to be Hoseok’s victim, and there was no hope for escape either. You were surrounded by miles of forest and the only communication with other humans was Hoseok’s equally repulsive friends and two of them were moving across the country soon. You envied them and their stupid red van and happy little life. You had only met Jungkook and his fiancèe once, but they seemed to love each other deeply. You once wished for something like that, at least before Hoseok came into your life.

“You stupid motherfucker! Piece of shit! Fix my fucking leg, you asshole!” Hoseok watched you yell with blank eyes before cracking a slight smile. He chuckled, adoring the way your tongue was so sharp.

“Are you done, sweetie?” He massaged your calves. The pain in your foot almost felt as hot as the rage bubbling through your veins at the moment.

“You’re going to burn in hell for what you’ve done to me. Son of the devil,” you hissed.

Hoseok grinned wordlessly again before placing his hands on both sides of the bear trap and releasing its jaws with a manly grunt. A scream ripped through you, dying into dry sobs after a moment. You supposed it was good that he did it when you were furious and the adrenaline was pushing you off the edge.

Hoseok was panting heavily. “Baby, did you know that some animals gnaw their own limbs off to free themselves from bear traps?” You watched with a glare as he fiddled with the contraption. You prayed that he would be offended enough to just kill you already. “I haven’t seen it happen myself. Some hunters find bear traps inhumane for that very reason. I understand. The animal has done no wrong, correct?” The shoddy lighting of his basement cast a shadow over his face.

“I can’t imagine how it would feel to be so helpless like that...so scared and alone...you must have felt that way back in that forest, huh? Baby?” You refused to entertain him any longer. Hoseok was being oddly soft-spoken and gentle with his tone. It wasn’t often that he brought out this voice.

“You must be so upset, huh? Scared, maybe even suicidal. You might even feel like a lost cause.” The trap snapped back into its original open position with a clang. “I’ve never viewed you that way. All I’ve ever seen you as was my perfect girl, even when you weren’t being so good. I never lost hope in you. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to snap out of it and love me too and fucking mean it.” His tone turned angry for a second, but he quickly shut it down. You stared at how he held the open trap with such expertise.

“You might think you were being so careful and good, but I see right through you. I just know you so well, baby. I knew deep down, there was still a part of you that defied me, even though I just wanted you to be your best self. I knew there was still some part of you left for me to crack apart and mold to include me with it.”

You were much more dizzy now.

“I’m doing this for your own good. So we can be happy together.”

You caught on with a start, sitting up quickly. You couldn’t even get one word out before Hoseok swiftly grabbed your good foot with a heavy hand and positioned it on the plate of the open trap. He jumped back, successfully evading the teeth of the trap which were now clamped around your other foot.

You let out a gut-wrenching scream. Not only did you scream from the pain of the bear trap, but also from the pain of the cold basement, the pain of the thick woods that surrounded the house. Hoseok watched you thrash on the bed as if you were possessed. Both of your ankles poured out blood and soiled the white bed sheets you lay on.

“Honey, be careful! Look at what happened to the sheets,” he tsked. “Ah, look at what you’ve done. How did my silly girl manage to get caught into two traps in one day? What am I gonna do with you?”

You began bawling again as Hoseok remained standing over you. His voice remained sickly sweet and you found yourself yearning for him to taunt you with his usual nasty tone.

“I want to die,” you weep. Hoseok seemed affected by this for a second before reverting back to his calm stance.

He silently came back around the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead once more before making his way up the concrete stairs. You thought about calling out to him for a moment, but ultimately decided not to. Hoseok shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. You wouldn’t be able to walk anyway. He made his way to the kitchen, stretching as he did so, and opened a cabinet in search of some tea. Your cries were barely audible over the hum of the microwave heating his water.

#yandere hoseok #yandere!hoseok #yandere!bts #yandere bts

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Better Late Than Never?

I had a few other ideas in the creative queue that I planned to do first but after watching TLC and Smackdown, this one just pushed its way to the front. Kevin is one of my long time favorites and not just because he’s from the place where I live. I seriously think that despite having been Universal Champion, US  Champion, and a major player for years, he’s still undervalued by WWE. Aside from his skills in ring, he is one of the Top 10 and possibly Top 5 promos in the world, whether as a heel or babyface. I hope 2021 is the year that he finally gets fully acknowledged. 

SO... Here’s a story featuring Kevin that’s about someone seeing just how wonderful he is. 

Pairing: Kevin Owens x reader

Word count: 3,627

Content advisory: swearing, references to sexual activity

You definitely need to be more diligent about moisturizing your legs. There’s a fine, powdery finish that lays over your dark skin like a kind of mildew or fungus and you can see a delicate web of white lines where your body cries out for hydration. You run your fingers along your tibia, wiping away the offending dust. It’ll be back in a few minutes but you like the feeling that it’s something that you can get rid of when you choose to. However, unless you plan on rubbing your fingers over your legs constantly, you need to be more diligent about moisturizing. 

It’s one of those details that’s become kind of fascinating during the hours you’ve been sitting here, getting a headache from the endless background noise and recycled air of the hospital, consciously stopping yourself from turning into one of those strident Karens who get up in the nurses faces and yell because they want their loved one to take priority over everything else. 

‘Loved ones.’

Even thinking the term makes you feel nervous, makes your dry skin shiver. You’re here in this hospital sitting vigil next to the bed of a man who’s been your friend for years, a sometime sparring partner, a frequent travel buddy, and a recent one night stand. But now he is very much a loved one and you wish he’d wake up from his medicated slumber so you could tell him. 

“I love you, Kevin Owens.”

There are a lot of visible welts and bruises on his skin. There’s a contusion on his cheek that’s so swollen it looks like someone’s inserted a balloon under his skin, a bruise so dark you can see it through his beard, and various ugly yellow and purple marks all the way down his torso. You know because, after the nurse had left the two of you alone, you lifted up his chintzy medical gown to survey the damage. 

You were allowed to do that, you figured. That’s one of the things that couples who loved each other never had to be shy about: showing their ugly parts and imperfections. If he would just wake up, you’d be happy to show him how dry and dusty your skin had gotten. If he’d just wake up. 

More concerning than the bruises are the split on his wrist and the bandaged ankle that’s been elevated to reduce the swelling, and the two dislocated ribs. Those are things that can put a wrestler on the shelf for months. You know, because you’re just getting the chance to get back in the ring yourself after you somehow managed to break your ankle in two places at once jumping from the top rope to the floor, a move you’d done a hundred thousand times without incident. You don’t want that for Kevin, not when he’s been on such an upward trajectory lately, not while he’s been so able to remind the powers that be of what an incredible talent he is. That ankle is already held together with Mac-Tac and positive thinking. It would break both your hearts to see him sidelined now. 

That’s how a woman in love reacts under these circumstances, you think. When her man is threatened, she becomes dangerously protective. She’d do anything possible and probably a few things that aren’t in order to save the person she’s in love with. And if the bastard would just wake up for a few seconds, you’d say that. 

Tenderly, you run your fingernails through the wiry scruff of his beard, careful to avoid touching the bruised skin. You let one finger, your so-called ring finger (that’s never had a ring on it) over the corner of his lips. You consciously choose that finger because the human body exerts the least pressure on it. You want him to wake up but not because you’re poking at him. But you can’t resist touching him a little. 

Even when you and Jey had been together, you and Kevin had been affectionate. It was one of the many points of conflict that you’d had with Jey, along with the fact that you swore so much that he was worried about introducing you to his mother, that you were a shit cook, and that your parents’ marriage had made you extremely dubious about the whole concept. 

You might consider marrying Kevon Owens, though, because he thought it was funny that you swore, that you had a tendency to drool in your sleep, who thought you were beautiful when you woke up even though you had crusts in your eyes, who was fine with ordering takeout or trying to cook something together that occasionally worked out. 

And maybe he would have asked if you hadn’t been so weird about everything. That was on you. 

You wouldn’t have described Kevin as one of your closest friends but he was definitely a guy you got along with, dating back to before you’d both signed to WWE. You’d even fought each other a couple of times, the last one being a PWG event where you’d failed to tuck your head up properly taking his signature package piledriver and ended up with a concussion. 

He’d apologized every time he saw you for six months, even after you were both in NXT, until you’d finally figured out a way to assuage his guilt about the whole incident. 

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, big boy,” you’d cooed, “just because I couldn’t handle your package.”

Then that had become a huge joke between you, and everyone assumed it meant that something had happened, that the two of you had done the horizontal mambo and were trying to get over it. You’d almost felt offended because you knew Kevin wasn’t exactly thought of as a hot property. At the same time, there was something about his rough persona, the character of a guy who’d just take what he wanted that made you think of what it would feel like for him to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed and…

Well, the two of you were always just friends. You were both experts at banter and setting the other up for funny lines. And you even found it easy to travel together, which coworkers found pretty remarkable. 

Normally, Kevin traveled with Sami, and if Sami wasn’t available, he traveled alone. But he’d come to accept you because he’d realized that any kind of travel put you to sleep almost immediately, which meant that he could have the peace he wanted and you could sleep without the guilt that other travel partners gave you for not doing your share of the driving, or at least being good enough company to keep them awake and alert by being good company. 

An announcement sounds, exceptionally loud as they all seem to be, over the internal broadcast system. 

“Housekeeping to triage with a wet mop and a bucket!”

You don’t even want to think what that means, but Kevin stirs just the tiniest bit and you’re excited that he might actually be coming out of it. Without even thinking about it, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, close to his lips, like he’s Sleeping Beauty and you’re Prince Charming. 

His facial muscles twitch a little but he remains unconscious. You are not Prince Charming. 

About a year ago, you’d started dating Jey Uso. He was so incredibly hot to you that you could barely stand to look at him. He’d joked around with you all the time and rather than come up with your usual retorts, you’d been unable to do anything but giggle uncomfortably. Naomi, who was your closest friend at the time, had sworn up and down that the two of you were perfect for each other. 

“Everything that I think makes Jey a dick compared to Jimmy to me makes it like he was meant for you,” she’d gushed. 

And she was right. After half a dozen times she’d insisted you ride with them (which had forced you to stay awake), made you eat with them, gotten you to hang out with them, you were totally smitten and you had a pretty good notion the sentiment was mutual. One night, the four of you had gone bowling and you and Jey had just spontaneously started making out. Considering it was girls against boys, it had kind of ruined bowling night. No one had cared. 

After that, you’d seen Kevin a lot less. You were a couple and you were more or less connected at the hip to another couple. But after eight or nine months things had started to go sour. And then Naomi and Jimmy got sidelined and it became obvious that you and Jey had stayed cool more or less for their benefit. 

You’d been the one to end things. He’d been adamant that what you had was worth fighting for, whereas you knew that the two of you were just too different to mesh in the long term. Being funny and being wrestlers wasn’t enough. It had felt unreal that he’d fought so hard to stop you from leaving him when he hadn’t seemed that happy having you with him. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because the good times with him had been some of the happiest of your life. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because sex with him had been amazing. But you’d managed to stand your ground, even though your ground left you pretty lonely. 

It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t understand, but once you’d broken up with Jey, things with her became awkward. And you were suddenly on lousy terms with Jimmy, who’d been a pal to you. Other friends were hard to talk to because you’d basically dropped them when you’d hooked up with Jey. But Kevin was happy to welcome you back. The two of you fell into the easy, comic interaction you’d had before and it was the first time in months you’d felt like yourself. 

A couple of weeks ago, it had gotten weird. Well, not weird. It had gotten sexual. You and Kevin had been excited about the fact that you both had matches on TLC, the first time you'd been on the same PPV. You’d started with actual champagne, or at least whatever sparkling wine the restaurant had in your price range. Then you’d moved on to real wine for your celebratory dinner. Then there was this amazing cocktail bar that had materialized right across the street from your restaurant and it wasn’t like either of you was tired. 

You’d been the one to make the move. You’d had a hunch that at some point, Kevin had developed a crush on you, something that had been put on ice during the time you’d been with Jey, but that had started to thaw in the time the two of you had been back to your old ways. You were two drinks into sampling what the cocktail bar had to offer when you’d dove in, smashing your mouth against his and pressing your tongue into his astonished mouth. The two of you had actually ordered a third round but had barely touched the glasses because you were all over each other, making out like horny teenagers before it occurred to you that you could just go back to your hotel and fuck like you were both so eager to do. 

And fuck you had. Everything between the bar and being in the hotel room naked was a blur, aside from the fact that you’d been going at it so heavily in the back seat of the cab that the driver got irritated and threatened to throw you out. You’d had a jubilant time throwing each other from one position to another and it seemed like Kevin had made you cum in every single one of them. And yet nothing had been so satisfying as looking at his face when he finally orgasmed, like every part of him, body and soul, released at once. You’d pretty much passed out together, embracing. 

When you saw him the next day at the Performance Center, he’d wrapped his arms around you and tried to kiss you in full view of other NXT and WWE personnel. You’d twisted away from him, unsure of what you wanted to do, but knowing you weren’t comfortable just having some new relationship in your life announced to the world without so much as a conversation. 

“Sorry,” Kevin had said, head bowed, “was that not ok?”

“No it wasn’t ok,” you responded tartly. “I never said we were a couple or anything. We fucked. We’re friends and we fucked once. That’s it.”

Kevin nodded but it looked more like his head was bobbling after a hard kick. He’d slunk away and the two of you hadn’t seen much of each other in the days since. You’d wanted to talk to him but it seemed like every time you got close to him, he’d run away or rush to the safety of a group of male friends. 

At first, you’d told yourself that you just wanted to tell him that you wanted things to go back to normal, but as you thought about things going back to normal, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Then, on the Friday night before TLC, looking at him as he staggered to the ring and declared to Roman Reigns that he’d take the WWE Universal Title or die trying, you’d realized that you were in love with him. You’d rushed to find him afterward but somehow, he’d eluded your grasp. But the thought remained at the front of your mind: you were completely in love with Kevin Owens. 

It had pained you seeing the beating that he took at the hands of Roman and Jey. In theory, Jey was attacking Kevin to ensure that Roman, the head of his tribe, won. In reality, you knew that Jey was dishing out extra punishment because he believed that you’d broken up with him for Kevin. Ok, you had to admit that maybe he’d picked up on something you hadn’t. But it killed you seeing Kevin suffer because of it. 

After the match, Kevin had once again eluded you, but that Friday, when he was helped away from his match, bleeding and bitter, you’d been waiting at the top of the ramp. You’d tagged along as they’d laid him onto the stretcher and attached an oxygen mask because they weren’t sure he was breathing properly on his own. And when the EMTs had asked if you were his significant other, you’d immediately nodded and jumped into the ambulance. Kevin had just enough time to look confused about your presence before the IV full of painkillers did its work and he slipped into blissful oblivion. 

They’d kept him medicated while they did various scans and scopes to evaluate the extent of the damage he’d suffered. And so, hours later, you were still perched at his side, waiting for him to come around. The doctor had insisted that he was better off asleep since that allowed him to rest and heal. You nodded in understanding, even as you imagined yourself shutting the IV drop off so that you could wake him up and let him know what you were feeling. 

You’d memorized every crack in the institutional-standard paint, every scratch on the tile floor, every nuance of the voice that periodically crackled over the loudspeaker, but you were determined that you were going to stay in place. You were going to tell Kevin Owens that you loved him the second he woke up and if he recoiled the way that you had when he’d tried to hug you. 

After about a hundred and thirty-eight years, his eyelids flutter and his brown eyes open, still glazed with drugs. It takes a couple of minutes before he registers where he is and who you are and what’s happened. 

“How bad is it?” he croaks, his throat crackling from dryness.

You pick up the plastic cup of water on the tray next to the bed and push the attached straw to his lips. He obediently sips, his eyes focusing on you as he recovers himself. 

“You took a lot of hits. You weren’t really up to the cage match. So it’s not great,” you inform him. 

He twists away from the straw and stares at the ceiling. 

“I’ll be fine,” he groans, his neck muscles tensing. “I always am.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to be fine for a while. So just drink water and relax.”

“I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t need to feel guilty because your boyfriend fucked me up and fucked me over. You can go home.”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. And I’m not here because of him. I’m here because of you.” You gulp, realizing that your moment has come. “Because I love you.”

Kevin grimaces and his eyes flit towards you but he angles his head away. 

He thinks you mean it like a friend, you guess. He doesn’t understand what you’ve just said. You grab his hand and pull yourself closer to him, so that you’re leaning halfway onto the narrow bed with him. 

“I love you, Kevin. And I’m sorry I was stupid when you tried to hug me and I’m sorry that I’ve been stupid and haven’t realized it before. But I really love you.”

He doesn’t say anything but he looks at you with an expression of innocence and surprise and he pulls on you a little so that you’re forced to crawl onto the bed with him.

“I’ve been sitting here for about eight hours trying to figure out some wonderful way to say this to you,” you whine. “But now my ass is asleep and my eyes are burning and I can’t think of any other thing to say. I love you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way and I don’t know why I never acted on it. I just need you to understand-”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” he says with a sigh. “You love me. That’s great. I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m the one who thought it meant something when we had sex, remember?”

“Hey,” you retort, placing your hand against his jaw and turning him to face you, “I did too. I just didn’t understand what it meant at first.”

Your lips come together softly and then urgently, until he twists away. 

“Ow,” he says, rubbing at his jaw. 

“Yeah, you definitely took a hit there.”

“You know, every time I hit Jey, I was thinking of you.”

“You know, everyone thinks you deserve to be the champion, but me most of all.”

Giving him a coquettish smile, you allow your hand to trail down to his thigh, curving towards the inner part. You can immediately feel a twitch from the one part of him that is definitely not injured. 

Sliding your hand under the thin fabric of his robe, you take hold of his member, already semi-erect, and begin stroking it, swirling your hand over the head and trailing your finger down the sensitive seam, reveling in the grunts and hums of pleasure this elicits from him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

the sharp cry startles both of you enough that you sit up a little. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with wispy grey-brown hair pulled back from her care-worn face, stares furiously at both of you. 

“You can’t be doing anything like that,” she says sharply. “And you can’t just go climbing on the bed.”

Face burning, you slide back into your chair. 

“Now sir,” she says, haughtily turning her attention solely to Kevin and averting her gaze from the visible bulge under the thin bed sheet, “how would you describe your pain?”

“Painful,” Kevin quips, making you giggle a little. 

“On a scale of one to ten,” she snaps. 

“I’m a professional wrestler, so I’d say five was a normal day. Let’s call this a seven and a half.”

“So would you like the doctor to increase your dose of painkillers?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I’d like the doctor to say it’s ok for my girlfriend to curl up in bed with me and take care of me.”

You smile broadly the second you hear him call you his girlfriend. 

The nurse rolls her eyes and walks away but as she does, both of you notice her covering her mouth to conceal how hard she’s laughing. Without even thinking, you clasp hands and as you watch her leave the room, you turn to look at each other. 

“You mean it?” you ask him. 

“Mean what?”

“That I’m your girlfriend.”

“Is there something else you wanna be?”

“I just want to be the woman you’re in love with and the one who you want to come home to.”

“Well that’s a given.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I hit a bruise.”

You let your lips trail over to his eyebrow and press a kiss there. 

“Ow.”

“I didn’t notice the cut,” you gush apologetically. 

He squeezes your hand and smiles at you, full of his incredible warmth, even though it’s tempered by the drugs he’s receiving. 

“Well I love you,” he sighs. “And don’t you worry. I’m about a half a CC of this juice from dragging you onto this bed and having my way with you.” 

You wind your hand and arm around his, so that you can pull him close enough for a kiss. 

“I hope they up your medication,” you murmur, “just so that I can make you relax while I show you everything I want to do to you.”

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