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sparkles-and-trash · 3 years

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The Gaang are Roommates AU ~

note: this is a rewrite and repost of my old roommates au, there was some stuff I wanted to change, and I wanted to make the parts a little longer, so yeah, ta-dah!

- think modern setting in the canon universe, bending is still a thing

- the Gaang are all in going to Ba Sing Se University

- I’m gonna change the ages a bit to make it easier for myself, sorry

- Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Mai are 20, Katara, Ty Lee and Azula are 19, Aang, Toph and Yue are 18

- so, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph end up living together in a big loft type apartment

- Sokka and Aang are old best friends, they met Toph in Middle School, and Katara is a natural part of the group

- until now Sokka and Katara have both been living in the dorms, and they both hate it intensely

- but now that Aang and Toph are also in uni, they all decide to move in together!

- …but the only problem is that the only place they find that they like is just out of their price rage (Toph’s parents aren’t supportive of her major so they’re not helping out much)

- enter: ~ Zuko ~

- so, Zuko has been living with his uncle Iroh since his Father, who’s a high up in some big and important company the Fire Nation, disowned him for speaking up against the company’s shifty treatment of workers and ruining a lot of sacred land etc

- they’re still firebenders and the scar still happened, not in an Agni Kai, but it happened

- but after Zuko started uni, Iroh really tried to push him to meet some people his own age and make some friends

- the only people Zuko talks to on the regular besides Iroh is Azula, Ty Lee and Mai, and Mai is the only one who is like, his friend yanno?

- the last year the deal was that if Zuko didn’t branch out, Iroh would have him live one year with other students

- it’s his idea of tough love

- Zuko tried to do some random kid’s homework to have them pretend to be his new friend in front of Iroh so he wouldn’t have to, but Iroh can tell he’s lying so easily

- so, Zuko ends up hearing about the Gaang through Mai, who heard from Ty Lee, who plays field hockey, Suki, who’s best friends with Sokka

- so, he goes to meet them, and it’s so awkward mY GOD

- Katara is a B I G environmental activist and HATES Ozai and his company, with good reason

- she eases up a tad when Zuko admits to being turned away from as a teen, but she is still suspicious

- Aang loves him right away, ofc, and that makes Katara even more suspicious because she’s pretty protective of Aang

- she claims it’s because he’s so kind and believes everyone but she totally liikeees hiiiim

- Toph is just like, sure, as long as he pays his rent idgaf

- Sokka is weirdly quiet, because he’s had a huge crush on Zuko forever, and the only one who knows is Aang (and Toph but she ain’t no snitch)

- so, ya boy makes the cut, and before they know it, it’s move-in day!

- but, the idiots didn’t think through the facts that it’s only three bedrooms oops

- and Toph is NOT afraid to pull the “I’m blind and I need my space” card

- and nobody’s up to fight her on it, so

- let’s just say there is A LOT of back and forth, but with Katara refusing to room with her brother again, and Zuko being rightfully scared of Katara, it ends up with Zuko and Sokka sharing a bedroom, and Katara and Aang

- they have separate beds ofc

- but still, tension, man, so much tension

- it takes a while, but the dynamics starts working out really well

- Zuko is good at grocery shopping and likes to clean, and Aang is always happy to help him out

- Sokka loves cooking, so he does that a lot

- Katara is always on top of the others with schoolwork and making sure everyone is okay, and she usually does it in genius, sneaky ways so people doesn’t even notice that she does it

- Toph is clearing the air off bullshit

- like, she will call a bitch out

- but because she cares about said bitch

- so, Aang knows that Sokka has a crush on Zuko because Sokka told him in a weak moment, and Toph knows because she just knows

- Aang is a good friend tho, and he tries to like, ease them together

- but he is so awkward about it, the poor thing, and Zuko doesn’t understand AT ALL

- Toph is just sitting back and sighing a lot

- Katara doesn’t understand either but she just stays out of it (smart girl)

- but okay, we know how oblivious Zuko can be right?

- Sokka can give him googly eyes and blush and stutter around him so much and he still has no clue at all

- Zuko starts thinking Sokka just doesn’t like him at all

- but then one night Zuko has this really intense nightmare

- okay and quick addition, his scar is… handshaped? Like, you can clearly tell what happened to him

- but nobody talks about it, yet

- but then he’s having a terrible nightmare and is talking and begging and pleading in his sleep

- so much that Sokka wakes up

- and he catches on pretty fast, but had no idea what to do

- so he just shuffles over to Zuko’s side of the room and starts tapping his shoulder rapidly

- but nothing happens

- so he just… gently and awkwardly pats his head until Zuko wakes up

- and Zuko is like… wat u doin there bro

- and Sokka is like… just patting ur head to wake you from a nightmare bro

- and they awkwardly just mumble and go back to their beds

- but Zuko is smiling a lot because someone who’s not his family or a family friend really cares about him

- after that, Zuko slowly starts opening up to all of them, but Sokka especially

- he never really tells them about being cast out and burned tho

- until one day he kinda casually slings it into a convo all fast and awkwardly

- it’s just Toph, Aang and Sokka there

- Toph yells so WHAATTT so loudly and just metalbends the whole fridge into a clump in rage

- Aang cries lmao but he tries to hide to and be supportive and not awkward

- Sokka is kinda quiet, but he carefully asks about it that night when they’re in their beds, and they talk a little about it

- Aang tells Katara (with permission) and she awkwardly, but wholeheartedly tells him that he can always talk to her

- they do that «awkward sibling hug» from Gravity Falls after

- *hugs stiffly* «pat, pat»

- but okay, Toph and metalbending when angry, it happens quite a lot

- this was the first time it was the fridge, but the toaster, the microwave, and several other appliances have met the same fate

- everyone is kinda used to it now, and she always replaces it

- except Zuko, who’s still kinda new to them all

- but what are you supposed to say when your new friends is so outraged by the abuse you went through that they crush a whole ass fridge?

- it actually reminds him that he’s cared for here, by these people who owe him nothing, and is not related to him, and it makes him a little dizzy to have people care this way

- he casually mentions it to his Uncle Iroh the time he’s in at work, that his new friend is a metalbender and squashed their whole fridge when she was pissed on his behalf

- Iroh is thrilled

- to the point of offering Toph a job lmao

- Toph, desperate to cut of as much ties with her family and be as self-sufficient as possible, agrees

- and now Iroh have two formerly rich kids with no clue about any sort of customer service and basic stuff like that working for him

- Toph is a hard worker tho, and she and Zuko work surprisingly well together

- Katara is a little relived, because the more those two work, the less are the chances of either of them trying to cook or do too many chores around their apartment

- they mean well, or, Zuko does, but he does so much dumb shit when trying to help lmao

- Sokka starts spending a lot of time over at The Jasmine Drago too

- Aang is still trying to keep the fact that Sokka likes Zuko a secret, but he is having trouble

- Katara is his biggest weakness, and now they’re suddenly alone with her a lot

- someone else who could always read Sokka really well is Suki

. whom he used date in high school, but they parted as friends and everything s cool

- but Sokka is a little taken aback when she comes into The Jasmine Dragon one day, hand in hand with Sokka’s childhood crush obsession, Yue

- for the first time in man’s memory, Sokka is a little speechless

- and Suki’s like “lmao dude I haven’t seen you like this since the first time you saw Zu-”

- cue Zuko popping out behind them like “WELCOME TO THE JASMINE DRAGON FRIENDS OF SOKKA :D”

- Sokka is so fucking red, poor boy is just about having an aneurism at this point

- but luckily something happens and Zuko gets distracted

- Suki is having the time of her life tho, Sokka always used to tease her for her crushes before and after they dated, and suddenly, here they are

- at the apartment, Aang decides they need some apartment traditions

- they’ve been living there for almost three months, after all

- so he decides that weekly movie nights are mandatory

- so are pillowforts

- Katara is actually really excited for it, she loves all things cozy and fall-like

- also… she is weak for Aang, y’all, and she loves seeing him all excited

- Zuko barely knows what a pillowfort is, he didn’t think real people actually made it

- but imagine these dorks in a pillowfort with hot chocolate and lot’s of pillows

- Toph claims that she thinks it’s soo dumb, but she will always make sit in the middle of the group all wrapped in her blanket and laughing when the others jump and get spooked from the horror movies Sokka always wants to watch

- and she will make sure the fort is right and perfect lmao

- Zuko is a little awkward about it at first, but he likes it too

- Sokka always manages to plop in next to Zuko lmao

- they haven’t talked about the head patting incident yet, but Zuko is def starting to feel the butterflies

- one time after a movie night Sokka falls asleep on Zuko’s shoulder, after the others have left for the night

- Zuko can’t resist waking him up with awkward head pats similar to the one Sokka used on him

- Sokka thinks he died and went to heaven lmao

- but then he fully wakes and sees Zuko’s shit eating grin and can’t help but laugh at the whole thing

- and Zuko has his “oh no he’s hot beautiful and I really adore him” moment

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

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miche zacharias | beauty & the beast

this is for @izukine ‘s ‘fairy tale and mythical creatures’ collab! love you so much liyah <333

tagging: @yeagerslut @xenihime @fiaficsxo @mitsuluv @sukunas-lady @onyxoverride @rintarouss (cus ur a miche fucker. sorry for not warning u abt the tag)

edit: this is unedited, i’m so sorry for any typos.

warnings/tags: cursing, eventual smut, smut, nsfw, romantic sex, size kink(i guess if u squint?), fingering, oral sex/cunnilingus, missionary sex, vanilla

miche was always just a little bigger than anyone around him. he stood like a skyscraper at 6’5, towering over all of his peers. he was more broad one would be at the chest, a tailor once said his bust was around 150 centimeters.

miche was seen as an absolute beast because of this. and it didn’t help that miche’s hair was shaggy, stubble coating his upper lip and jaw, and he had a sniffing problem. he thinks the nose is really what sold everyone.

and in effect, miche was feared. feared by the people in his village, and sometimes even by his own friends. the dark and looming castle he lives in was where he forced to, along with his companions that stood up for the meek man that they called a beast.

the village often sent people who they’ve decided to shun to his estate, expecting for the beast to kill them in cold blood.

in reality, he just sent them to the next village over. he didn’t feel like being disturbed.

it was nothing different when he saw you running to him, tears falling from your pretty eyes while consistently looking over your shoulder. behind you, he noticed a crowd with pitchforks along with torches, screaming for you to get back here to burn you at the stake.

“help!” you cry, “help!”

you stumbled over your own feet, hands clamping down onto his clothed biceps and sobbing while looking at him.

“the next village over is—“

“no! sir, no matter where i go,” you shake your head rapidly, “i will be hunted. hunted for reading the books!”

you looked so desperate clinging onto him, eyes flashing when you cry once more, “you’re the only one who can help me!”

he looks back to the crowd that nears the gates of his home, silently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. the crowd skids to a stop, especially when miche steps forward and manages to yank a pitchfork from their hands.

“this girl is with me,” he announces, jabbing at the air to back them up, “leave now or die.”

the crowd gapes at the sight of you gathered to his chest, but backs off nonetheless. there was nothing they could do against the man that they call a beast.

miche leads you into his home, introducing you to friendly faces that were spread across the house.

“what happened?! did you get rid of the—whoa-ho-ho! who’s this beauty, michey,” someone with messy brown hair exclaims, eyepatch covering their left eye.

“hanji! quit being so disrespectful,” a man follows behind them, tugging them by their shoulders from behind.

“this young maiden was followed by a mob. she read the forbidden books, based off of her words she’s said to me. they planned on hunting her down even if she goes to the next village over,” he leads you past them to a bathroom.

“that’s saddening,” a baritone voice said, the frown evident in his voice, “she's staying with us i’m assuming?”

if his voice wasn’t enough to make you feel small, his looks definitely were. a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a prosthetic arm stood in front of you with something that you can say was a gentle smile. behind him lingered a shorter man, bags hanging from his eyes, one of which had a scar running through it and down to his lip.

“no shit, erwin. miche isn’t heartless,” the crude words make you crack a smile.

miche ignores their comments, “where’s nanaba? she needs a bath and i don’t fully trust her to be alone.”

“what am i needed for,” a feminine person waltzes into the room, a light look on her face.

“this young maiden needs to be bathed with a loose eye on them,” nanaba gently takes your hands into their own.

“what?! why couldn’t i do it?!”

“because you can barely bathe yourself, shitty glasses,” levi grunts and sits on a plush couch in front of the warm fire. you notice he has two prosthetic fingers.

nanaba leads you away before you can hear hanji’s response. you open your mouth to ask a question, but find yourself stuck on what to address nanaba as.

“you can address me as whatever makes you comfortable,” you find that she’s peering at you from over her shoulder.

“oh! i’m so sorry,” you sniffle.

“don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. now, what was on your mind?”

“that man… miche, i think the townspeople called him, he’s really kind. he saved me from being burned,” you murmur loud enough for her to hear, “why?”

nanaba took you into a bathroom room and shut the door behind her, “i can’t say i know. the last person he took in was levi, and it wasn’t exactly his choice, more of erwin’s. i think he smells something in you.”

“that’s right, the townspeople wrote that he had the nose of a dog.”

“he does. he’s usually able to tell if someone is good or not just by their scent,” she turns on the bath, “i think he likes you.”

you deny her statement with a laugh, fanning your hand just before you get undressed. you doubt that a beast such as himself could like someone like you.

————

months passed, and as the days went on you found yourself falling in love with miche. the same man who used ‘beauty’ as a nickname for you would bathe in how you’d give a bashful and swat his arm.

truly, he was more like a bear. big and scary, but also cuddly—as much as a bear could really be—and soft. miche had a heart of gold, that much was obvious when he started to wear it on his sleeve.

he cherished his time with you, even if others were around and he wanted you to himself. he loves the wandering gazes you give when you sit under the wisteria tree in his garden. the look of curiosity that brightens your face, eyes wide and staring at the world he used to think was cruel.

miche tried not to be a sap. he hadn’t ever since he was born, and he didn’t want to start now. but he couldn’t help it.

if the world that shamed him and hurt him was able to create such a kind yet sarcastic beauty, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

but he was scared of hurting you. in more ways than one. mentally, miche was a quiet and seemingly unaffectionate person, even with someone he loved. miche also had a tendency to be blunt at times, and it has made you upset on multiple occasions.

physically, however, miche’s terrified of being with you just because of it. as you’ve observed, miche isn’t exactly small..

but you practically make him feel as such.

especially right now as you crack jokes with him and teaching him how to waltz. it doesn’t help that you’re leading the dance and that he was stumbling over your feet.

“miche, step this way with me,” you’re incredibly patient.

“i’m scared i’ll step on your foot,” you give him a stare.

“you already have,” you laugh, “it’s okay if you step on my foot, you’ll get the hang of it.”

eventually, he’s able to synchronize his steps with your’s. you trade off the leadership to him, hands on his shoulders. he fumbles a lot more than before, leading to you fumbling over him as well. your shoe presses into his own, and you wince for him while muttering an apology. he’s about to tell you it’s fine, but before he can, he’s stepped on your dress. you yelp and instinctively cling onto miche as you fall onto miche’s bed, dragging him with you.

his arm is immediately at the small of your back and his other hand manages to hold himself up. you flop back onto the mattress when he takes his arm away, cheeks flushed red as he stared down at you.

you look so pretty under him, hair spread beneath you and hands laying next to your head palms up. your pretty lips are parted and your eyes are wide and fluttering.

when he realizes he’s staring, he starts to get ready to get off of you.

“wait!” you gently hold his biceps, stopping his once abrupt movement.

your arms reluctantly and slowly wrap around his neck, eyes darting continuously to his face and to your arms. miche’s breath gets caught in his chest when you pull his face closer to your’s.

“miche… can i kiss you,” you whisper, breath tickling his skin.

miche’s too afraid to speak, so he nods.

your lips start to tingling whenever they’re connected to miche’s heat embarrassingly shooting through your body and to your tummy.

when he pulls away, you accidentally let out a whimper and rub your thighs together. miche’s face lights up again at how needy you look underneath him.

he kisses you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaning his weight onto them. he subtly shimmies your body up the mattress, tongue poking at the inside of your mouth. it elicits a soft moan from you, the noise shooting sparks straight to miche’s cock.

“love you,” he sighs with his lips trailing down your neck, large hands shyly starting to grope at your chest.

“love you too,” you bite your lip, watching him undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“is this all okay,” his lips tickle your skin as he drags them across the skin of your collarbones.

“yes… yes,” you mumble, slipping out of the shirt and your bra and throwing it somewhere across miche’s room.

miche nibbles at the skin on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. you sigh dreamily, hips wiggling from where they lay on the bed. he kisses down your tummy and slips the skirt you’re wearing off of your body.

you’re wearing plain white panties, embarrassment hitting you like a truck. miche doesn’t seem to care at all though, just slips them down your leg and throws them somewhere in his room.

you put a hand on your chest when he spreads your legs, trying to regulate your almost erratic breathing. you couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

soft pecks tickle your calf, slowly trailing up to your thigh and to the trimmed hair of your labia. breaths grow heavy when his tongue hesitantly prods at clit, fingers digging themselves into the wild sheets of his bed.

after seeing your small flinches, miche closes his lips around the bud. you immediately throw your head back as he starts to suck and lick at it, electricity shooting down to your toes that are curled over his shoulders.

he slips a large finger into you, bending it with caution. you buck your hips with a throaty moan, sealing your eyes closed when miche picked up the velocity of his pace.

unlike with waltzing, miche was getting the hang of it fast. so fast that he’s already slipping a second finger into you, thrusting it at a teasing pace that wouldn’t be able to get you off.

you cry out, the scent of pleasure coating your entire body. it has miche groaning against your clit, a loud and desperate moan being let out in response.

miche’s slipping in a third finger, continuously thrusting in and out whilst curling them.

“miche! miche!” you let a hand get tangled in his hair, gently tugging as if you were trying to rut against his face.

“gonna cum—oh my god! i’m gonna cum,” you whine breathlessly and miche continues at his pace.

you cum seconds later, legs trembling from where they lay over his shoulders. he pulls away and immediately wipes away your juices off of his face with the back of his hand, immediately rewarding you with a sweet and passionate kiss on your lips. you whimper against his rough lips, fingers tugging at the shirt he still had on.

he chuckles when he pulls away, hastily taking off his seemingly elegant clothing and throwing the sheets over your bodies.

miche knew it was going to make you both hot. and miche knew he was paranoid of anyone walking in, even though he knew that everyone wouldn’t bother him. but still, the sheets acted as a shield from the world.

this time was only for the two of you, no one else.

his hand pumps his cock whenever he starts to guide it to your stretched out slit. you don’t exactly realize just how big miche actually is until the head of his cock is pushing into you.

the sting that shoots through your body is immediate, and you immediately cling onto his back. you bite your lip whenever he keeps slipping himself in, pausing when you’ve managed to get a quarter of his cock inside of you.

you pant as tears prick the corner of your eyes, trying to relax your obviously tense body as miche tries to distract you with soft and gentle kisses. he whispers how good you're doing, even rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb to help loosen the tension.

when you calm down and tell him that you're ready, he continues to slip into you with slowed movements. the stretch is more painful than before and as he slides deeper and deeper into you, you feel like his cock gets bigger with each inch. you stop him again, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that you can do it. you only had a few more inches left, then you would feel good.

when he finally bottoms out, your breath leaves your chest. it feels like he’s in your throat and the intense feeling makes you cry again.

“so full, ‘m so full miche,” you whimper while he wipes away the tears from your face.

“i know, love, it’ll feel good soon,” his voice soothes you.

when you calm down again, the realization at how every part of miche’s cock reaches you comes down upon you.

“m-move, please, move,” carefully wrapping your legs around his waist, you whisper in his ear.

his thrusts start off slowly and deep, moans falling from your lips each time he bottoms out and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. when he realizes that you’re alright, he speeds up his pace.

the way he ruts into you makes you produce a broken scream, scratching at his back and throwing your head back. you’re already starting to feel that certain knot in your tummy again, and you wanted to try to hold it back but the orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.

you sound so broken underneath him, digging your nails into his skin and squeezing him close to you.

“fuck! thank you, thank you,” you sob, “love you, love your cock.”

he grunts in response, ignoring how your walls suffocate him. he doesn’t help you ride out the orgasm, only speeding up his pace to chase after his own orgasm.

you whine at the sound of his skin slapping against your’s, heat spreading down to your chest. you’re going to come again with the way miche jackhammers into you desperately.

“miche, miche! fuck—please!” your vision whites out as your body thrashes under miche’s hold.

miche can’t ignore how hard your walls grip onto his cock, groans spilling out of his mouth as his orgasm creeps over him.

he orgasms with a breathy grunt, grinding his hips into yours and pumping his cum into you.

when he comes down from the euphoric high, he kisses your lips. your eyelids are heavy after miche pulls his softening cock out of you.

“love you,” he mumbles against your skin after he’s fetched a wet rag and cleaned you up.

you hum in response, too tired and weak to even reciprocate with words. luckily, he knows what you were trying to say. he pulls you into his warm chest, a soft and satisfied hum falling from your lips.

you drift off with his hand rubbing your back. the last thing you remember thinking was that miche was definitely a beast in some aspects.

#izukine’s 500 event <3 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #sorrels.moots🌷#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #miche x reader #miche aot #miche zacharias #mike x reader #mike aot #mike zacharias

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sunaswife · 3 years

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𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒

Shigaraki X f! Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, brainwashed/ programmed reader, implied kidnapping, Dom/sub, use of the word ‘pet’ and ‘master’, first time sex, uh..does this count as yandere..? Idk lol

🔪: this is like my second time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad 🙇‍♀️ plz don��t spank me. N E Wayz I dedicate this fic to @aoi-turtle 🖤 and Any other shiggy whores out there

Edit: I FORGOT TO TAG @dinablossom and @toworuu IM SO SORRY BSVAKAGSJA

Summary: Imagine being programmed to be the leagues healer but also Shigaraki’s little cum bucket

♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎

“Master what is the meaning of this.” Shigaraki looked at the television screen as he scratched his neck. “I took her quirk and made it a thousand times better.” He said simply. “Tomura shigaraki where should I place her?” Kurogiri asked. “Anywhere. I don’t care. I just don’t understand why you brought a stupid hero here.” He said annoyed.

“Now now—“ “Shut up and put her somewhere out of my sight!” Tomura demanded and Kurogiri sighed and carried your body to the spare room by shigaraki’s private quarters. You looked dead, you were exhausted, traumatized, in shock.

You were frozen. Your eyes stayed open, unblinking as you stared at the ceiling. It looked as if you were dead. But your body is warm and you were breathing, you’re alive and you’ll recover quick. Thanks to the quirk All for One fixed for you.

Dabi smirked at your ruined form. Spinner hid his rosy cheeks, you were a cute one. Toga was excited to have another girl in the league she talked with Twice about all the fun things you two could do together. Whether it be painting your nails, doing your hair, torturing someone, or making them bleed. She was excited.

“What’s so good about her quirk that you needed it.” Shigaraki asked. “It’s come to my attention that the league has been missing an important puzzle piece.” He started off. “Yeah? What’s that?” The light blue haired man asked. He was beyond ticked off to have a hero here. “She’s not a hero. She was training under UA’s school nurse. But she fell into the hero course for recovery and first aid training.” He said and everyone stayed silent and patiently listened to the brain behind the league.

“Her quirk is pyrokinetic regeneration. She manipulates fire with the energy of the person who needs healing and together she heals with so called fire. Her quirk was small, only a few cuts a bruises here and there could she heal. But I added cell regeneration so she can even fix up deep wounds that could need surgery in a matter of days instead of months.”

“Sounds amazing! No she could use her fire against us!” Twice said and Toga nodded. “She won’t. Her fire doesn’t burn unless you’re hurt.” Kurogiri returned. “But she’s still a hero brat so wouldn’t she try to resist?” Dabi asked. “I don’t know but let me try and see!” Toga giggled and pulled out a knife she easily slit her wrist and skipped her way to your new room.

Out of curiosity the other members followed suit. Shigaraki first, he wanted to see if you were truly useful if not then he’d disintegrate you right here and now. “Hi hi new friend! My name is Toga!” The psychotic girl giggle as her blood dripped all over the floor. You looked up slowly from your spot on the bed. “H-hi...T-toga..” your voice was low. “Kurogiri Can you bring her some water?” Toga asked and he left and came back in the blink of an eye.

Your hands were shaking for the cup of water but Toga held it back, away from you. “If you want the water then heal my wrist first.” She said sweetly with a giggle. “Heal your wrist?” You whispered and she nodded. “O-okay..” you stuttered and you slowly removed the blanket from your lap. You stood up with wobbly legs to go to the girl but you fell. The chain on your ankle pulled you back. You winced and looked at her, pleading for her to come to you. She asked if you were okay and when you responded she shoved her bloody arm to your face. “Take a deep breath. This may sting...” you started and a small green flame came upon your hand. You rubbed the flame over both of your hands like you were putting on lotion, finally when the flames covered both hands you pressed hard on her wrist. She winced, “ow ow ow.” She whimpered, you removed your hands and everyone stared at the flame around her whole wrist. “Give it thirty seconds....or not...” you said as you stared wide eyed at her already healed cut. It was barley a touch and it’s gone now. “Wow. No scar!” She giggled and turned to show the guys. “Wow stab me next, please don’t or else I’ll bite ya!” Twice said and you reached for the water. “Interesting.” Shigaraki mumbled with a small squint. Kurogiri looked over and hoped he wouldn’t do anything bad to you.

“Shows over. She needs her rest.” Kurogiri said and everyone left one by one. Toga gave her a hug and wished for you both to be the best of friends and she skipped away. “Tomura Shigaraki. What are you thinking?” Kurogiri asked as Shigaraki began to walk into your room. “Nothing that concerns you.” He spat and slammed the door. Kurogiri sighed but returned to the bar nonetheless.

“Do you know who I am?” Shigaraki asked, “Yes you’re the leader of the league of villains, You’re name is Tomura Shigaraki and your quirk is decay—“ “that’s enough!” He raised his voice and looked at you with wide eyes.

You looked so sad and you glanced down at your cup. “Mr. shigaraki I know I don’t usually talk this much. I’ve always been the quiet type. I think whoever kidnapped me gave me a huge sense of knowledge. I know the league is bad but I don’t care about the heroes anymore and I don’t know why. I know everything about you guys, your true identity, your quirks, your past. And when I see you I—“ you quickly stopped yourself.

Shigaraki raised a brow. “You what?” He asked curiously. “N-nothing. Just forget it.” You answered and he growled. “Answer me now before I kill you.” He said and your legs subconsciously clenched together. You stayed quiet and your chest rose and fell a little more quickly. Why was this feeling in your chest when this killer, this man child looked at you? What exactly did the man he calls master do to you?

Before you knew it he gripped your chin and lifted it harshly so you could look at his wrinkly red eyes. Even though he looks like a bum he smelled nice and clean. A hand was covering his face and you slowly lifted your hand to touch it and his other hand grabbed your wrist. “What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a death wish you fucking idiot?” He growled and you gulped. “C-can i see your face?” You asked and he tilted his head confused.

“No. Answer my question-“ before you both knew it, as if your body had a mind of its own you tackled shigaraki down and you snatched the hand off his face. His hand quickly wrapped around your neck and arm and you pressed your lips against his. He halted his finger from pressing against your neck. He was beyond confused.

“If only tomura finished listening to what i had to say.” All for one chuckled loudly. You both were able to faintly hear the television from down the hall. “He would know that I managed to change y/N’s desires and whole way of thinking. She’s now with the league of Villains and she’s in love with its leader, Tomura Shigaraki. Consider it a present and motivation for the future of the league.” You both heard and you pulled away from him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.” You said lowly. He stood there stunned and silent.

He slowly sat up and looked at your figure. “So you were brainwashed like my Nomu.” He hummed and took a few steps back. He noticed how you crawled closer to him but the chain was keeping you away.

“Who do you love?”

“You.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who’s your master?”

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

You said and he smirked. He was gonna have fun with you. “At least master was kind enough to give me a beauty.” He said as he held on to the chains. “Don’t freak out.” He warned and you nodded. He disintegrated the chain around your ankle and he pulled you by the arm. You were wearing an ugly hospital gown and you were barefoot. You couldn’t help but shiver. He went next door to his room and he shoved you in and slammed the door. You nearly tripped over the mess and you turned to look at shiggy. “Why are you just standing there?” He asked, “You haven’t given me orders.” You deadpanned. “You can’t think for yourself?” He questioned. “No i can but I Don’t want to upset you.” You replied.

“Fine then clean this shit up.” He referred to his very very messy room. You nodded and began to lift up a piece of trash but he pulled you away. “Change first.” He said and handed you a black hoodie. “Do you have a bathroom?” You asked. “No change here.” He said and you nodded. You turned so your back was facing him and carefully began to take off the gown, leaving you completely bare and Shigaraki couldn’t help but look.

Your skin was so beautiful and looked so soft. He saw as you carefully put on his hoodie and it completely engulfed you. It reached to your mid thigh. You slowly turned to look at him with rosy cheeks. The hoodie smelled just like him. “Tomura—“ “It’s master to you.” He Interrupted and you nodded, subconsciously squeezing your thighs together once more. “Sorry...m-master.” You said and played with the hem of his hoodie.

“Master..can I have some underwear too...? I feel weird, when I’m bare underneath..” you asked. “No, continue cleaning my room.” He answered coldly and sat on his gaming chair. He turned on his console and began playing whatever game he had.

You sighed and you couldn’t help but admire his gorgeous yet scarred face and his beautiful long fingers. In an instant he can kill you, but if you’re good..then he might even reward you. If you were to die, I’d rather be in the hands of your master than anyone else.

You quickly began you pick up the instant ramen bowls and bags of chips. You separated recycling and trash. You even managed to pick up all his dirty clothes and put it in the hamper in less than an hour. Tomura was stunned, one minute he can barley walk in, the next It’s almost spotless. He saw you from the corner of his eye, you were folding his clothes that practically had the same color scheme.

“Can i go through your drawers to put your clothes away..?” You finally spoke up. “Yeah it’s whatever. I don’t care.” He mumbled and returned to the screen. “Ugh stupid game!” He huffed and began pressing the controller more furiously. You chuckled and thought that it was so cute and adorable when he was frustrated.

You went to his California king sized bed and began to fix the sheets and make his bed. Since it was so huge, you had to climb on to properly fix it. You were completely in your own world when Shigaraki turned and saw your wet cunt on display in all it’s glory. Ever since he saw you he couldn’t help but feel that urge to take you. His resistance was getting to him and now he wanted to give in to his urges even more. He was too distracted that he lost the fucking game and he growled and disintegrated the controller. That was his own form of rage quitting.

You heard his sound of frustration so when you turned you expected him to be in the same chair uttering bullshit, but you were shocked when you felt your hips being pulled back. Your cunt was touching his pants, but you can feel his bulge. “Um..master..I—“

“Shut up.” He said and reached for your neck. He pulled you back to him and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hovering your aching clit. “This is whats gonna happen.” He started off and you nodded. “I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to like it. Okay?”

“I understand.” You said softly, you felt his hands slowly lift up the hoodie just a bit to get a better view of your ass. You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. “I know I’m probably not your dream girl but I promise to be a good girl, master..” your voice shook. He tilted his head, were you getting insecure?

“No pet, you’re perfect to me.” He assured and you could hear his belt jingle as he took it off. “You seem pretty wet already, pet. Since how long have you been like this?” He asked as he got out of his jeans. He slowly open your cheeks to reveal your little pussy clenching around nothing, how cute. “Since I saw you..” you mumbled. He smirked and leaned down. He immediately began to eat out your cunt causing you to gasp in shock and grip the sheets. Your chest layed roughly against the bed as your ass stood proud in the air for the leader of the league of villains to enjoy.

“Fuck—“ you moaned and you felt a slap on your ass. You slightly jumped released a small yelp. “Watch your language.” He growled from your pussy. “Yes master.” You whimpered and he slowly began to rub his thumb on your other hole. Your small moans filled the room and he easily slipped his middle finger in you. You squeezed around him so deliciously, he couldn’t help but wished his cock was inside.

This has never happened to him before, this feeling in his chest. Someone that loves him and will obey his every command. You’re so beautiful as well, and your sounds. Your moans and whimpers, in all honesty he jut wanted to get himself off. But after hearing you and seeing you. He wants to make sure you have pleasure as well.

He continued pumping his finger in and out of your slick walls and your voice started getting slightly higher. “Master...I—I’m gonna cum...”you panted and your toes began to curl. “It’s okay, cum for me, pet. You’ve been a good girl.” He said softly and he felt you clench around his finger. When you came he slowly removed his finger and examined it. You must be new to is if you could get off with just one of his long fingers.

You layed on the bed a bit tired, not paying attention to your master who had tasted your cum on his finger. It was delicious and he wanted another taste. When you felt a lick on your cunt again you immediately shivered and clenched your thighs. “Hold still I just wanna taste some cum.” Shigaraki huffed and he pulled your thighs apart. You were pretty sensitive but you obeyed nonetheless.

You moans began to fill the room once more and before you could finish and cum again he pulled away. You automatically whimpered and turned to give your master puppy dog eyes. “I would let you cum again, but my cock is so fucking hard I don’t think I can wait another minute.” he said and began to pull down his boxers.

Before you could get back in position, which freaking hurt, he flipped you over on your back and you made a small oof noise. You looked up to See shigaraki focused on his cock, he was rubbing himself up and down your slit to use your cum as lube. “Alright I’m going in.” He announced and slowly pushed his rather large member inside your tint cunt. You immediately yelped and held on to his biceps. “M-master wait—it hurts..” you pleaded and Tomura finally looked up at your face.

He loves inflicting pain, he loves watching people’s painful expressions when they’re hurt or when they’re gonna die. Chisaki’s face was so amusing. But when he saw yours, his heart shattered and he didn’t want to hurt you at all. You’ve been nothing but good to him, he doesn’t want to hurt his little toy. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, “it’s okay..” you sniffled. After a minute of him being patient you gave him a nod and he continued to slowly bottom out.

You both released a moan when he was all the way in. You both have never felt anything like this before. “Can I start moving?” Shigaraki asked you as he brushed way the hair from your face. You nodded and he pulled almost all the way out and he slammed back in. Your little gasps and moans came back which made shigaraki feel at ease. You can clearly hear your slick with every thrust and it was music to his ears.

“I’ve been neglecting these.” He grunted and lifted his hoodie over your chest. Finally he was able to see your beautiful soft breasts bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.” He moaned and immediately lowered his mouth to one of your nipples. You squealed and your back arched and he pushed you down. “Master...” you moaned softly. His tongue swirled around your hardened bud and your fingers tangled in his light blue hair. Two of his fingers pinched your other nipple and he lightly bit the nipple in his mouth.

“I think I-I’m close—“ you gasped and he removed his mouth. His thrusts decreased in speed but they became harder. He had a stupid smirk on his face and your eyes widened when he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Hold it until I say so.” He demanded and you muttered a weak yes. He felt how your gummy walls squeezed against his large dick, he was getting close too. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.” He groaned with his head tilted back and your mouth watered at the sight. Why is he so fucking handsome?

He could feel himself getting closer to his climax so he rubbed his thumb on you clit while increasing his pace once more, causing you to be even louder than before. Everyone in the bar could hear and a certain fire villian grumbled in annoyance. “Master I can’t hold it anymore!” You screamed. “Then cum my stupid little pet. Cum all over my cock like a good girl.” He grunted and bit his lip at the sight of your sweaty body. Your bouncing breasts, crazy hair, your adorable ahego face, your twitching legs and finally your grip on his biceps. You were so prefect and so good to him and only him.

When you came you felt his cum shoot inside you as well causing you to gasp at the delicious feeling. Tomura rested his head on your shoulder and tried catching his breath. You couldn’t help but smile and blush at the closeness. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and you gave his shoulder a kiss causing him to freeze. “I love you master, thank you for making me feel good.” You said softly. He chuckled and pulled you closer, “I love you too.”

I wanna write a part 2 of Shiggy finding out his little toy is being used by a certain fire boy 👀

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki smut #league of villains #my hero academia #yandere shigaraki #smut #[🏌️‍♀️🔪.yandere]

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 3 years

Text

Ooo...can i please request Fem reader who have just been heartbroken by a one sided crush and then one day she met The Joker and he makes her forgot about her crush? Can be nsfw if u want 👀

Hello, anon! Ok so this is longer than I'd originally planned but I was having fun 😆 it’s a little story in the realm of a crackfic that I had a lot of fun with! I hope you like it!!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, crackfic

Word count: 2,121

Warnings: light nsfw, mentions of mild violence

Summary: Sometimes people surprise you with what they'll do when their back is up against a wall, even the Joker.

Who?

It had to happen today, of all days. You went to grab a coffee this afternoon and what did you see? The man she knew you were obsessed with had his lips on hers. Right across the street from the café, your so-called friend was making out with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years.

He was back in Gotham on a business trip. His stay would have been shorter if it wasn’t for state of things in the city for the past couple of weeks. It seemed your friend decided it was an opportunity to swoop in before you’d gained the confidence to do it yourself. But the kicker is that he’d already agreed to meet you for dinner tomorrow night on top of it. Looks like he gets around. You all had gone to the same high school years ago and things apparently haven’t changed much. Aren’t you too old for games like this? You tried not to dwell on it, you had a job to do, but it’d been burning in your stomach like caustic acid for hours now.

You resisted the temptation to text her, tell her you saw them. No, if they want to play games, you could play your own. So far you hadn’t come up with anything but the old stand-by, the silent treatment. But this needed something bigger.

Your revenge plotting would have to wait, though. A minor injury out on patrol last month landed you a position in booking at MCU just in time for shit to hit the fan. Being a Gotham police officer was nothing like you’d expected it to be. You had your sights set on helping the disadvantaged, the people who couldn’t catch a break in this god forsaken city, who fell victim to loan sharks and got stuck in an endless cycle of debt to the inexplicably powerful Mob presence here. But the amount of red tape and corruption making that hopelessly impossible was enough to make you resent your decision in the first place. By now, you were one drug possession arrest away from never coming back.

Today, however, had taken an interesting turn. Your eyes were glued to the tv screen in the front office where live coverage of the SWAT team’s descent on the Pruitt building captured everyone’s attention. Some were optimistic about it, but most of the talk around MCU was skeptical. “If he’s gotten out of it before, he can do it again.”

But they got him. Back up teams raced out of the precinct and everyone scrambled with nervous excitement to carry out preparations for his arrival.

You weren’t here the last time the Joker had been brought in. You were off duty and you’d found yourself feeling a little jealous that you weren’t. He was all Gotham talked about, particularly around here. You weren’t sure how many times you’d seen his face by now. That face. There was something about the way he looked into the camera, it sent a tingle down your spine. It was a strange mixture of fear and fascination. It left you feeling conflicted, uneasy from the butterflies it stirred in your stomach, like you shouldn’t get this kind of excitement from it, a little spark of thrill you’d managed to keep suppressed.

But that spark was growing dangerously hotter now that you knew he’d be coming here, so soon, nonetheless. You had to keep your composure. The excitement was enough that you’d almost forgotten the betrayal you witnessed this afternoon… almost.

Your heart pounded as you approached the booking office, the sound of shouts and cheering echoing through the halls. What was he going to be like? Would he be angry? Was he going to take an officer hostage like last time? What if it ended up being you? You tried to take a deep breath, fighting the shaking of your hand as you reached for the door handle before carefully opening it.

You froze just past the doorway, letting it shut behind you. He was so… tall. He stood behind the intake desk, at least several inches taller than the SWAT officer removing the cuffs from his wrists behind his back. His expression was blank, casually watching the officers try to do their job while looking like their nerves were about to snap, avoiding touching him as much as they could.

“One move and I won’t hesitate to shoot you,” one officer said, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking.

The Joker didn’t say a word. He just flicked his tongue over his lip and lazily rolled his eyes. Butterflies fluttered into your throat and you fought to swallow them down. You had to try to relax, you can’t let him get to you. Of course, that’s easier said than done, his presence alone was enough to ignite an oddly alluring anxiety within you.

The awkward silence was broken when the on duty detective voiced his intolerance for that kind of behavior before noticing your arrival.

“Nice of you to join us, officer.”

All eyes landed on you, including his. You couldn’t breathe for a moment. That feeling that you got when you saw his picture was nothing compared to the intense wave of adrenaline that struck you like lightning, leaving you in a cold sweat as his eyes connected with yours.

You tried to maintain a professional demeanor, but you couldn’t hide the way color drained from your face as you slowly approached him. Just breathing took an immense amount of concentration. So much that you didn’t hear the detective giving you the case number to record before beginning the booking process.

“Officer! I’m speaking to you!”

You jumped and broke your gaze away from Joker’s dark rimmed eyes to quickly grab the form as the detective mumbled under his breath. Your hand was shaking again as you tried to breathe normally and recorded the number then in the next line, “Name, Unknown. Alias, The Joker.”

A shiver trickled its way down your back as you could feel eyes on you again and you looked up from the form to see him carefully watching you. Your breath hitched and you quickly tore your eyes away to stare at the form as heat bloomed in your cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. You’d been avoiding talking with anyone about him for weeks and no matter how much you denied it, now you knew why.

The other officers took his long purple coat and suit jacket off of his shoulders, removing a variety of knives from his clothing before turning him around to face you. You kept your eyes down, taking the cuffs from your belt to hold them in your hands, ready to place them on his wrists. A knot has tied itself around your insides and grew tighter the longer you stood there and stared at his hands, stained with traces of white, black, and red paint. Your face burned hotter, and your heart pounded relentlessly in your throat, but you had to try to remain calm. If you kept showing them how nervous you were, you’d be booted off of the case and another officer would take your place. This was pure torture, but you still didn’t want that to happen.

You were surprised by a need for more. He already had you trapped in this confusing push and pull to give in to the unusual attraction you had to him even though you knew it was wrong. It had taken you this long to realize that was it. A deep seated attraction had been sitting in the back of your mind and now it was rapidly taking over your body.

Goosebumps prickled your skin when your fingertips grazed his bare wrists, clicking the latch on the cuffs in place. This was like nothing you’d ever felt before, the rush in your veins, the heat in your stomach. You managed to keep the exhilaration spreading through your body from boiling over as you lead him to the line up wall for his intake photo.

He stood in front of the digital camera, holding the placard displaying his alias with the date and case number, his green hair swept hastily out of his face and infamous greasepaint smeared wildly. When you looked at the screen to capture the image, the knot in your belly unraveled. His gaze focused directly up into the camera lens and straight at yours, the corner of his scarred mouth tugging into a smirk. Your heart pounded in your ears and you could feel yourself shudder as rational thought slipped away, drowned out by a pervasive impulse. You knew he was dangerous, of course, and you couldn’t explain it but, you didn’t care. The fire he’d ignited within you was in control now.

A nervous buzz spread from your hands and down your arms before you looked up from the screen to meet his gaze, returning a subtle smile. Joker lifted his eyebrow and his grin stretched across his face until the other officers approached and he let it fall with a swipe of his tongue across his lip. That was all it took. You let those tempestuous flames engulf you and now you weren’t going to do anything to stop them.

Everything felt slowed down, like you were dreaming, feverish with this sudden and powerful desire when you kicked the door to the private search room open, pulling him inside with you and locking the door. You had precious few minutes before they’d find you. You quickly unlocked his handcuffs and spun around to put your back against the door, gripping the lapels of his vest when you stopped and stared up at his face as your stomach dropped. Why did you just do that?

But the feeling of regret didn’t last long. A low chuckle rumbled in Joker’s chest before he leaned on his hands, placed against the door on either side of you and brought his face inches from yours. Your breath huffed over his lips and the familiar feeling of arousal swelled between your legs as you felt his heat wash over you.

“Needed somewhere, uh, private to perform your search, officer?”

His lips hovered over yours as you smiled and answered softly, “I figured we’d start with the oral cavity search.”

His giggles were muffled when you crashed your lips into his, surrendering to the spontaneous and intense lust you found yourself swimming in. Your heart soared when he kissed you back, raising the intensity and allowing your tongue into his mouth as his hands moved to grip the sides of your face and your eyes fluttered closed.

He hummed when you wrapped your hands around his neck to lace your fingers in his hair and pressed your body against his. You could feel his size beneath the fabric of his pants and your breath hitched. This was one of those moments that didn’t feel like it was really happening, but it was. His hands slid down your sides to grip your waist and your mouths separated to catch your breath.

His eyes traveled up and down your body before another devious smile sent a shiver down your back.

“You. How about you come with me, hm?” he said, his eyes flickering to the gun in your belt.

Your stomach fluttered and you stared back at him, flinching when fists started pounding on the other side of the door and voices shouted. You shouldn’t trust him, you knew you shouldn’t. But trust hasn’t gotten you much in the past, has it? Besides, you didn’t have to trust him. Whatever happens is going to happen at this point so you might as well enjoy the ride. You’d already let it go this far. You swallowed your nerves and nodded, holding on tight to his shoulders.

Another chuckle made you bite your lip before he leaned in and purred in your ear, “Follow my lead, doll.”

You straddled his lap in the back of an unmarked van speeding down the street only moments later, his tongue in your mouth as your hands slid down his torso to the button on his pants. Was he always this lucky? Or did he know this would happen all along? Of course, this was a crazy thought but nothing that had happened today was sane. He held your own gun to your head and made his escape like it was planned that way. Either way, you’d easily forgotten all about the betrayal that felt so insignificant now.

In fact, tomorrow you’d receive a text from the traitor herself bragging to you about hooking up with your now former crush and your response, short and sweet, was “who?”

Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen

#anon request #heath ledger joker #tdk joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker fic #joker crackfic

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messwriting · 3 years

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap. Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life.

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up.

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that.

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning.

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did.

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft.

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?”

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over. “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old.

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave.

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one.

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look.

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are.

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement.

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time.

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back.

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged.

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested. Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough.

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street.

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere.

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee.

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully.

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips.

“I guess you could say that.”

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.”

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place.

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut.

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested.

Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.”

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.” It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee.

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them.

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare.

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

“I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.”

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world.

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again.

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face.

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it.

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.”

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu.

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face.

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.”

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray.

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over.

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.”

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow.

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.”

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile.

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal.

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle.

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all. “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime.

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money. He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes.

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner.

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

[to be continued]

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu fanfic #iwaizumi haikyuu #mafia au #thesmutpilecollab

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baku-writes · 3 years

Note

Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

-----------------

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

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lovemxnot · 3 years

Text

Worth the burn | Hwang Hyunjin

Firebender! Hyunjin x Avatar! Reader

Letters burned the scroll in your hand, reassuring words etched on them, scorching their presences into it.

“The city is great, they greeted me with much fanfare, and I’ve been having fun with Hyunjin and the others, like old times.

I feel more like myself than ever. Don't worry about me, mom and dad, I'm fine. I feel like I'm truly, finally healing.”

A pang of guilt surged through you, but you shoved it away, ignoring its lingering presence. Sealing the envelope, you gave it to the man standing impatiently next to you.

“The fire nation, I’m assuming?” He sighed, Referring to all the past letters you have sent.

“Wouldn’t bet otherwise.”

You were healing, perhaps not the same way you had mentioned in all of your letters, filled with nothing but the pure lies, but you were searching for a way- a way to forget, forgive, and move past what was done to you.

Forgiveness never came easy to you. Everyone around you pestered you into accepting the situation that you may never be the same avatar you used to be. But they had no idea what you were going through; no one did- after all, you were the only avatar alive.

It was humiliating how every day, you got up to move only for your legs to fail you despite daily visits to the most skilled healers.

At one point, you had hope, you could feel your legs again, and day by day, you were getting better until eventually, you learned how to walk again, but it all crashed once you tried combating and could barely throw a punch without images flashing, looming shadows engulfing your vision, sending you straight back square one, flashbacks so strikingly vivid it made you quiver down in terror. You were so ashamed, felt so weak and... helpless. How the once-great avatar’s mind turned against her becoming her gravest nightmare.

But You’ve had enough of wallowing in self-pity. You left your parent’s home, leaving the fire nation to sail to republic city, the city where your nightmare was born, the city where your friends reside, in hopes of confronting your fears and healing. And that was truly your plan, but it went astray.

“The match starts in five minutes, move to the ring,” the announcer reminded you.

You pulled yourself out of your head, wrapping the bandages tighter on your hands. Getting ready for your next match. You can feel the ground shake. The roars of the people at the stands pump your blood.

Today’s opponent was a new one. Never heard of it before; fresh meat. New to the game, alas, putting you at a disadvantage as you knew nothing of them or their bending element. Hopefully, it's not another lava bender. Those injuries of that fight alone had another nightmare simmering in the process.

And although you've mastered all four elements, you choose to fight with the one you were naturally born with-fire.

You stood behind the metal door, secluding you from the ring, hands going up to position, feet grounded, breathing in, then out. It wasn’t your first match, but it always feels like it is, no matter how many times you tried to nerve up.

As soon as the bell sounded, the doors slid open you shot a belt of fire to where you knew your opponent stood. Hoping to catch them by surprise.

Your opponent, on the other hand, skillfully blocked your advances while remaining idle in his place, silky red hood up- the signature of the fire nation, hair covering his eyes, shadowes concealing most of his face.

“What's wrong pretty boy? Afraid to fight?” You baited. The crowd's yelling got louder. They loved it when opponents ridicule each other. You surged another blast of fire their way, but they, once again, blocked it as if they already knew your next move.

“Come on, you know you gotta use your hands to fight, right?”

Nothing.

“Here, let me help” you looped a hoop of fire around their hands - or at least tried to before they counterfeited the attack and sent you flying. Body slamming the jagged wall with a thack that pales compared to thunder. But you were used to it by now.

“Alright, now you want to play, pretty boy? "

Using the tiniest amount of airforce, you air bended your way to them faster than they could blink and attacked. But all you were met with was hands blocking your every move.

Their movements were so familiar to you, you obstructed all of their attacks just as well as they blocked yours. It was more of a dance than a fight at this point, every move mirroring the others.

There was only one person that knew you that well. and oh god, did you wish you were wrong about this.

The red streak you glimpsed on his cheek supported your thoughts even more. There was only one person you knew that had that scar. A harsh exhale - laced with a little bit of airbending- blew his hood off, revealing what you wished was not true.

The tiny breeze blew his dark locks out of his face. Giving you a glimpse of his face.

No.

No. No way.

You knew those dark locks. You've run your hands through them enough times to know how they feel even without touching them.

"Hello Y/N"

“Hyunjin...? what are u doing here?!” You knew someday you might run into one of the figures of your past. It was inevitable after all, but not this soon and definitely not him.

“Why, when I heard the avatars look-alike was fighting in underground battles of the lower rinks of basingse I just had to come and get a glimpse myself!” Mockery slid fluidly through his sly smile, “and would you look at that? You do look like her! If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought it was you.”

He was furious, you could tell, even though he masked it with amusement in his voice. To the average eyes, it looked like nothing other than two old friends reconciling. But to you, you knew his blood was boiling by the crinkles of his eyes, the air so thick between you that even airbending it wouldn't help,

Hyunjin was your childhood best friend, and your firebending mentor's son.... and boyfriend. Well, technically, your ex-boyfriend now, seeing as you disappeared on him after the incident, didn't write any letters back for the past year letting him knew you were still breathing.

“Get out of here, I'm not going to fight you” you let your arms rest, blood running cold, fire distinguishing from you. Back turned, you head back outside the arena. You can faintly hear the crowds gasp in shock over the thoughts running in your head. Speaking of your head, it almost got completely scorched with a blast of fire sent your way had you not sensed it early enough and twisted on your hands to get out of its reach.

“Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to run away. Not again ” He was heaving. He hadn’t moved a step, but he was seething. Another burst after burst was shot at you. “I waited a year y/n! " Oh, how you longed to hear him call your name for so long, but not when he was saying it out of resentment "a whole year just to hear something- anything from you! “

“Hyunjin- stop. I'm not going to fight yo-“

“I. spent. Two. Months. Searching. For .you” fire punctuating every word.

“ Hyunjin i-"

“I thought you were dead !” He punctuated with a blast. This one was charged with so much grievance that the fire was a searing blue. You were not as lucky as before at dodging it, mind catching on to the malice dripping from his voice. Had you not been burned, you would have noticed the tears welling up his eyes.

“Ah,” you hissed in pain.

“You never wrote me back!! But you wrote to Felix?!”

Felix was a mutual friend of yours. A non-bender that you’ve always been very fond of. A younger brother you never had.

“I didn’t know what to say!” You fired back this time, making it his turn to dodge, body ablaze with so much heat you felt it coming out of every limb.

“A simple ‘ hey I'm still alive, by the way, I want to break up with you’ would’ve done!”

“That's the avatar?” “ no way” “ they have a bounty for her head” the mob outside the arena started to murmur, but none of it registered with you.

“ i - I couldn't.....” your resolve faltered, arms dropping. Forgetting completely about the stupid match and the bystanders.

“But you could ghost me for A YEAR and three months?” He scoffed, “ not that I was counting or anything.” He added sneeringly.

“Ever thought I didn’t want to be found?” You snapped back. You had no right to at all. But it just... everything made you snap after the incident. Blame it on insomnia or the delusion or whatever, be it. It drove you crazy. Everything irked you, the sounds of footsteps, the numb feeling you would get in your legs sometimes, the breathing of the person standing next to you- everything aggravated you, you felt your resolve holding on to a thin thread.

Hyunjin, filled with so much fury, lashed on you once again. This time you blocked it, but it drove you roughly back into the unpolished wall. A rock that was jutted out of the wall struck you exactly where you were terribly injured in the attack that incapacitated you. A jolt of electricity crept through your body.

Pictures, more vivid than ever played before your eyes, legs feeling numb, horror swimming in your blood next to the burn of lighting that struck you. Body lying limp, you felt soft hands reach for your face.

“Y/N!” It was the same.

All the same.

You pushed Hyunjin out of shot, and it struck you midair.

The same face that found you after being utterly destroyed, peering over you, with terror and tears etched so deeply in his scarred face.

“ I'm sorry. I’m sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, hugging your figure closer, face resting in your neck.

“Please,” he sobbed, “ come back to me.”

Everything was foggy. Was it your eyes or the arena? You had no clue over the video looping in your head.

Lighting, as beautiful as it was, struck you so hard, slipping so gracefully out of your opponent’s fingers, dancing in your nerves, jolting your heart to a stop.

" I'm here." A soft voice pierced through the fog, glints of black and red becoming clearer the more the voice spoke. "I'm always here."

Hyunjin’s pained scream filled your ear” No, No, Chan- please do something! Heal her !”

“I can't lose you again, Y/N.”

Deep brown eyes broke through the fog, followed slowly by the rest of his figure. Hyunjin. That was hyunjin talking to you. The boy you were madly in love with. The boy that never gave up on you. Your eyes welled up seeing him so close- feeling him up so close again.

Fingers softly held your cheeks, your own clenching onto his silky red robe. He didn’t have to speak; his eyes spoke a thousand words. You hid from them in his neck.

"I didn't want you to see me like this," you mumbled into him, tears spilling.

His arms wrapped tighter around you, afraid you’d slip right through if he loosened an inch.

“Let’s go home.”

He didn't need to take you anywhere because right now, you felt more at home than ever.

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catboymingi · 4 years

Text

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn’t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?”

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

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nukyster-blog · 3 years

Text

Changing Course Chapter 28)Broken

.-.-.

Utstott grew rapidly. For the first few days, Ivar managed to hide the raven chick inside the pocket of his tunic. But now that the hatchling received proper food and care, the little thing grew in size and had a massive opinion; it no longer allowed Ivar to shove him into his pocket. It pecked and cawed every time Ivar’s fingers brushed over the hem of his tunic, puffing up his humble amount of feathers.

“Fine, be stomped to death, scrawny excuse for a chicken!”, Ivar badmouthed Utstott, who’d fiercely dug his beak into Ivar’s thumb. The little shit managed to draw blood and received an aggravated wave from Ivar. Utstott tumbled down onto his tiny arse and cawed disapprovingly.

Ivar threw a meaningful glance at Piglet, who failed miserably at keeping her snigger hidden.

The Giant had unchained Ivar shortly before, and Ivar had barely managed to hide the hatchling underneath a pile of hay, coughing excessively loud to mask the sound of Utstott’s caws of disapproval.

It had earned Ivar two iron fists smashing in between his shoulder blades, along with a shove towards the door; the Giant didn’t want him slacking.

“You take care of that pain in the ass”, Ivar half ordered, half asked Piglet. The slave maiden made a deep bow as an answer and used her broom to sweep Utstott to the furthest corner of the shed.

“Make sure the calves don’t crush him”, Ivar added before crawling out of the doorway.

His duty still remained the same, scrubbing the staircase. It was the most pointless and exhausting task possible; for every step he mopped, a hundred dirty feet and muddy boots defiled it before the end of the day.

But, like the bloody bear of Kattegat, Ivar would scrape his palms raw and routinely work his way up to the steps of the entrance.

Then again, he was out in the sun, catching a breath of fresh air, and he’d managed to collect a small log he could use for carving later. Life could be much worse; yet it bothered him how grateful he’d become for such basic aspects in life. He used to literally eat from a golden bowl and now his day was considered an excellent one if meat was on the menu. After winter, his heart truly beat faster every time the Giant would unshackle him and allowed him to slave his way through degrading and pointless tasks.

He’d evolved into a proper dog, Ivar dog with muzzle, as Piglet put it.

How much time had passed since his arrival in de Haar? Since his father promised him greatness and a meaningful death? Of course he’d known he’d never return from England, he’d settled with drowning at sea. At least he’d be right beside a Legend, a King, a father.

Oh, sweet bliss, if only he’d died during that storm. Then he’d never know how Ragnar Lothbrok’s suicide mission only included him for his unfailing and inescapable affliction; being born a cripple. He’d just been a tool, a simple pawn to deliver a message to his worthy brothers.

And he even failed at that. At night, that was one of the thoughts that kept gnawing holes into his mind; what if he escaped de Haar? Then what? Crawl his way to the closest dock and head home like a cowardly dog, muzzled, beaten, marked, and damaged?

With his luck, he had a better chance at swimming home, because how was he going to afford the crossing?

And what awaited him at home? Shame, mainly and mostly, shame. He’d served Christians, in order to survive. He’d slept between pigs, cattle, shit and Piglet. He’d done nothing memorable aside from enduring a bloody flogging.

What would his brother’s think of him, if he’d told him how he cleaned the enemies chamber pots? How he allowed the entire population of de Haar to take a piss at him?

The worst thing was, by now he’d been so conditioned into his new role, he numbly did what was expected of him. Without a fight, a curse; defiance had literally been beaten out of him. A shadow casted over him, expecting the Giant to ruffle him up, Ivar flinched back before glancing up.

Ivar couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“God zij met u,” were gentle words spoken by the fair-maiden. A breeze whispered past, teasing the blonde strands of her hair. Although her posture regained its grace, her beauty still one to match; the light had been robbed from her eyes.

Her sudden presence overwhelmed Ivar and it showed; a blush scorching his cheeks, setting his face on fire. Full of shame, he lowered his gaze and waited for her unblemished ankle boots to pass.

By the Gods, she must have turned into flawless marble, because she was not moving an inch. Now if it was up to Ivar, he’d remain ignoring her presence until the day he died. But she was standing on the spot he needed to clean and if the Giant caught him neglecting or pausing his task, the fair-maiden would witness him being beat.

Leaning into his embarrassment was inevitable. Ivar felt awkward and reticent, yet managed to glance up.

Her expression lacked security too, and there was that brokenness again. The longing, the burning expectation of a sign, of something good.

Did she honestly still believe that the rumours of his ‘Martyrdom’ were true? Months had passed since the forty lashes, if he’d been anything other than human he’d surely have allowed a miracle to happen. One that set flames to the highest towers of De Haar. A plague to strike anyone that ever dared to harm him; causing puss filled blisters to scar their faces, like the whippings that had scarred his back and shoulder blades.

But no, no miracle in the form of sickness or fire had occurred. His life still wasted away, while hers had worsened by marriage. He did not have anything to offer her, and he wished he had the words to tell her that.

There was no escape, from neither of their lives. He could not save her from Ludolf’s marital ties. He could not save her from being raped and abused, because Ludolf was her husband, the young ruler of de Haar.

The Giant must have smelled his cold sweat, like a bloodhound, the brute lumbered across the cobble-stoned centre in a direct line towards Ivar and the fair-maiden.

Both eyes of the youngsters locked in a shared understanding until Ivar broke it off. Well, was forced to break it off. A vicious yank on his hair forced him to hunch forward, causing him to tap over his bucket. The wooden tool tumbled down the stairs, splashing water all over the place. Ivar didn’t even register, pain scorched his scalp as the Giant picked him up by his hair.

Instinctively, he clung both his hands around the thick wrist of the Giant, as the brute pulled him up to eye-level.

Brandishing his fist in front of Ivar, the Giant diminished the space between them. Almost nose to nose, the bastard started roaring in his face; the stench of tooth rot and decay overwhelming.

Instead of ramming his fist into Ivar’s face, the Giant pushed him down the steps.

Every muscle in Ivar’s body knotted up as his arse hit the first step, spinning he tumbled down the rest of the steps, hitting the back of his head against the bucket and his teeth grazing mud.

The Giant took his time to walk down and kicked the bucket across the cobble-stoned centre. He didn’t need to shout his order, Ivar knew he was burdened to repeat his entire task again.

The cloth landed on the back of his head and the Giant walked off.

It made Ivar feel so small and insignificant, yet he picked himself up and started crawling towards the bucket. The fair-maiden luckily had disappeared, hopefully she now knew better and would stay far away.

.-.-.

“What did you do?” Piglet ranted the moment the Giant locked the door. Apparently, his little downfall had been the talk of the town.

“Nothing”, Ivar snapped back, wishing that would be the last word of it.

Of course it wasn’t, Piglet pressed both her palms into her waist and glared down at him.

“She’s trouble! Won’t last long! I’m not going to heal your back again!” She threatened.

This was fuel to Ivar’s simmering fire: “I bled for you, not for her”, he reminded her firmly as he rose up to his knees to at least have a shot of being at eye-level with her, “don’t tell me what I can do and can’t do, or you might wake up while I ram a nail in your eyeball!”. To give his threat more weight he thrust his fist forwards, aiming at her face. Their distance was too great by far to even touch the tip of her nose, but his gesture made Piglet sway on her feet.

She must have seen that thing in his eyes; what his mother called rage and she called the Djinn.

“Thick-head”, she announced, and fled up the attic, allowing Ivar to unload on his own. His knuckles grew white from clenching his fists too hard, his teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent. His face was red from suppressed rage, and he hunched forward. It was as if a wildfire burned his insides, slicing and scorching his consciousness away. He blacked out, saw red and when he came to, Piglet sat right in front of him.

His breathing was out of control, fists clenching and unclenching, he noticed stug material being stuck between his teeth. The potato bags from around his knees and legs lay torn and shredded across his box. He choked, inwardly he suffocated. The beatings, the ridicule, the overall indifference for his pain, the absolute monstrosities he’d been through all throughout his life sparked up from every corner of his mind. Memories, old and new, of being unworthy of being alive, unworthy of being a person, shattered in a frenzy.

At a loss for words, unable to express himself, Ivar broke down. He fought it with every fiber of his being, but he wept. Hating his physical reaction he buried his face into his hands and hated, absolutely hated himself for expressing such weakness, in such an unmasculine way, in front of another person.

If the Gods would have any mercy, they’d allow him to crawl down a dark hole and never come out. Screwing his eyes shut, Ivar furiously banged his fists into the ground, stirring up the last bit of his anger. It was his last resort to regain some dignity, unleashing one more time and destroying everything his hands and teeth could get a grip off.

Piglet’s touch was so gentle and hesitant, Ivar swore he’d made it up. But when he opened his eyes wide and still on the verge of madness, the slave maiden wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. She did not speak, only held him close. Her silence didn’t feel empty, rather, it enveloped him and allowed him to bear his grief and choke through his tears and pain. Despite the heaviness in his stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressing against his.

Although he wished to fight it, he sank into the warmth of her simple gesture. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, in return, Piglet carefully twined hers around his lower back.

Since he’d taken the path of no return, he allowed himself to find safety in the crook of her neck.

“They broke me, Piglet. I’m broken”, the grunt that escaped the back of his throat was soft and hoarse.

“No, not broken Ivar,” she whispered into his hair, “damaged. But damage heals”.

For some reason, her words planted back a seed of hope, at least to get through another night and another day.

.-.-.

A/N: So, did I have any kind of storyline for this chapter. No, this was a total freefall. Lightly inspired by episode ‘The Outsider’ (see Ivar rant on my tumblr). Halfway I thought ‘kay I’ve physically screwed him up a dozen times, why not break him down mentally. Oh and let's make him cry, yet try to keep him in character’. Tada… this happened. Loved writing it! First the total overload of frustrations and then the breakdown. Eager to read your thoughts/opinions,

Xoxoxox Nukyster The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane The tagged ones:@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys @shannygoatgruff@pieces-by-me@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa@readsalot73@lauraan182 @conaionaru@sarahh-jane@peachybonelessIf you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar the boneless fandom #ivar oc #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #ivar as a slave #ivar's heathen army #hurt/comfort fanfic #hurt and comfort

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vessel-of-immoderation · 4 years

Text

lfrp kasmir calili

ᛃ THE BASICS ––– –– –

Occupation: Herbalist Hobbies: Foraging, Getting absolutely wrecked by fauna she accidentally disturbs, Baths (baths is a hobby), Cooking, Tenderly patching people up while calling them idiots, Knitting, Gardening Race: Miqo'te//Keeper Sexuality: Moronsexual Relationship Status: Single Languages: Common, some huntspeak

ᛃ PERSONAL ––– –– –

Residence: A cottage in South Shroud, overlooking Urth’s Fount. Also has an apartment in the Lavender Beds. Place of Work: Wherever there are idiots who are magnetically attracted to the sharp end of everything. Birthplace: The Shroud Fears: Being insignificant, underwater caves, being badly burned

ᛃ APPEARANCE ––– –– –

Height: 5 ft Build: Curvy Age: 29 Gender: Female Skin tone: She black Eye color: Gold Hair color: Violet/teal Distinguishing Marks: Gold tattoos across ribs, hips, thighs; Gold sigils on palms, scarred palms. Common Accessories: Worn leather bag, Silver cigarette case, Lots of gold jewelry, more and more often a large carved walking stick.

ᛃ BODY LANGUAGE ––– –– –

Walk: Slow, tentative unless she's being guided or knows the area well. Voice: Low, slightly teasing, with a drawl. Tics or Mannerisms: Keeps her hands busy if she's nervous: playing with jewelry, picking at her clothes, clicking her claws together. Obviously very tactile, quick to initiate touch with people via leaning on, grabbing arms, pinching. Smell: P l a n t s, dirt, strongly herbal. Hints of jasmine from the oils she uses for her hair. Posture: Relaxed, tendency towards slouching. Disabilities: Blind, completely with no cheating. M O R O N S E X U A L. No magical abilities. Extremely prone to aether and sun sickness.

ᛃ RP HOOKS ––– –– –

Herbalist and Healer: She has a remedy for nearly everything and can patch up anything short of mortal wounds. Kasmir also just loves talking about plants and their various uses. Sealing Tattoos: If you manage to get a look at her palms, you'll notice that they're very specific designs: shining gold on top of thick scars. It may take a few drinks and a lot of time to get her to open up about them. "Didn't you used to...?": Recognize her as the consort of an unnamed government official? Catch her reading fortunes? Tucking vials of illicit substances into the palms of shady looking individuals?

What's goin' on in there?: Got the ability to see aether? Can you sense when something's fucky? You'll probably notice something very off about hers, or the lack thereof.

ᛃ LOOKING FOR ––– –– –

Foraging Chaperone: Sometimes she gets tired of having a treant knock her down a ravine. Be her eyes and her muscle, as much as she doesn't want to admit she needs either. Pain Relief: Kasmir is in constant, full-body pain. Various herbs and tinctures work until they don't, and some have terrible withdrawals. If you're peddling something to soothe the fire in her nerves, she'll be your best friend. Withdrawal Babysitter: When the drugs stop working, so does she. It's not uncommon for her to rip into and try to dig out her sigils, fight anyone and everyone she can get at, and try to throw herself from high places. This is the angst option, and generally requires some level of trust between Kas and the Adult™️. The One that Doesn't Listen: Look, she's a grump. She'll patch you up and tell you to fuck off. Or she'll fuck you and tell you to fuck off. It's not that she prefers to be alone, she just doesn't understand much else. Stick around sometimes, don't make a big deal about helping her with things (pushing something she's reaching for closer, taking some of the things she's carrying, washing her hair), compliment her plants-- she'll warm up. VILLAINS: Okay this is more player than character but just g o d give me the baddies. I want some darkness and violence and BAD STUFF.

ᛃ ABOUT THE PLAYER ––– –– –

Who I am: I am a Mess. That's it. Server: Balmung, Crystal Time Zone: EST Availability: Open forever. I make my own schedule. Writing Style: Variable. I try to match whatever my partner does. I can have a pretty prose-y writing voice so be warned. Platforms: Discord for now. My PC bit the dust so I am stuck for a bit. "Oh Mama#3488"

ᛃ OOC INFO ––– –– –

No underage players.

No underage characters. There's really no reason mine would be around children-- she barely likes being around adults.

No weird/possessive/stalkerish behavior OOC. Just be cool, man.

I'm absolutely fine with AU bubbles. We don't have to be canon in each other's lore-- that's a big step! Sometimes we all just wanna have some fun writing.

Slow to respond? Bich me too, tf. Who cares. Write when the mood strikes you! If I'm chatting with you between posts please don't take that as some passive sign that I want you to post! I'm just chatty.

I think that's everything. Honestly just hmu for whatever, y'all. I'm fairly easy to work with and usually down for anything~!

boosty bros, pls! @mooglemeet @balmungrp @crystalxivrp @balmungroleplayers-blog @ffxiv-crystal-rp

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxiv crystal rp #ffxiv lfrp #lfrp #lfrp balmung #lfrp crystal #I don't feel like finding my old lfrp post but luckily i had the formatting saved in drafts #have a new one

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parkeraul · 4 years

Note

Little Black Dress and Little White Lies with Shawn! (aka some of THE best 1d bops)

→ excruciating | s.m

ann’s note — thanks for requesting. i hope i kept it up to these two LEGENDS we call songs. if u have requests, hit the askbox.

pairing: shawn mendes x reader

masterlist┊add yourself to my taglists┊give me feedbacks.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, angst and teasing.

“Heads up!” Brian whispers, elbowing Shawn lightly and it makes him almost spill the drink out of his glass.

“Dude—”

“Here comes trouble.”

When Shawn tilts his head to see above the crowd, he wishes he had some camomile tea instead of vodka inside the glass. His instant reaction is to roll his honey eyes and look up to the ceiling right after, as if he asked God the reason why, he’d get an answer. But of course Shawn is quick to glance back at Y/N’s direction, because he wouldn’t wanna be the only person in that room to miss the sight of her crossing the door. And fuck, she’s never looked this fierce before.

Y/N proudly trails her way inside with a silk black dress that hugs her body in all the sinful ways, her neck being partly hidden by a black velvet collar. The straps of the dress are thin, so there’s more than just her cleavage showing up. Her shoulders are exposed too, and all her torso shines beautifully in every single angle. Her face and hair are done in that way she loves so much and Shawn swears that if the room was silent, people would hear his heart pounding.

“Fuckin’ shit.”

Shawn turns his back to the door and faces the window that draws all the way from the ceiling to the floor, walking towards the glass to drop his forehead onto it, wishing it would break above him and kill him before she did. He presses his lips against each other in a thin line, breathing deeper as he looks at Connor switching glances between Y/N and him. Without thinking twice, Connor laughs drunkenly and curls his left hand on a fist, tapping loudly his open right hand on top of it repeatedly — you’re screwed.

“I know, man,” Shawn mouths through gritted teeth. “I know.”

Brian approaches his friend with a grin on his lips, a stupid grin, Shawn would say. He can spot it through the glass’ reflection, and he squeezes his drink with a certain might.

“What are you waiting for?” The ginger boy speaks up close to his ear, crossing his arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

“Eh?”

“Talking to her, dumbass,” Brian finishes his beer with a last gulp, already smelling way too much like alcohol for Shawn’s nostrils. “C’mon, step up your dick.”

Huffing, Shawn frowns and smiles confusedly against his own will. As if he wasn’t explicitly clear, Brian taps his back twice with heavy, clumsly slaps.

“What makes you think I’d wanna talk to Y/N after that little stunt she pulled—”

“Man, that happened three months ago!”

“So what?”

“So what?” Brian screams, opening his arms in protest while Shawn crosses his own. “Bro, you weren’t even together. You told me that, you were just sleepin’ together for fun.”

Down goes another alcohol sip through Shawn’s throat, and he hisses to the burning sensation wandering on his system. He catches back a memory, nodding in denial as he runs his hand through his curls.

“I told her I wanted more,” He says shyly, inching his head to stare at the floor beneath his feet. “She scoffed. She just rambled, put on her clothes and left. I don’t wanna get there and make the same mistakes over and over again, I’m done.”

“Shawn—”

“No, man, I mean it,” Insisting, Shawn eyes the surroundings with bitterness taking over his features. Jaw locked, cheekbones highlighting and his face is flushed, frustrated. “That was the last time she played games with me.”

From afar, he hears the muffled sound of footsteps tapping against the stairs as the deafening song dies. Y/N’s climbing the degrees, purse on her hand as she holds the knot of her dress with her free hand on her back.

“Fine. Whatever you say.” Brian gives up. “And plus, there are plenty of people in this party, I’m sure y—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn stares her body until she reciprocates the look, disappearing to the second floor and leaving him no other choice. “I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, Shawn’s quickly out of Brian’s sight, seeking the way to the stairs as he tries to gently push people out of his way, leaving his drink somewhere far away from his wanting hands as he rubs them together. As he’s almost in front of the first degree, he rapidly undoes three buttons of his red shirt and uses the pads of his index finger and thumb to dry out the drink from the corners of his lips and pushing down the wooden under his feet to prompt himself closer to trouble.

“Long time no see.” Shawn says flatly, walking slowly to the open door in front of him.

Y/N jumps lightly, one strap of her dress sliding down her shoulder while she’s got both hands working on the stripes of the back part of her outfit. When she spots him, he’s leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed and chest partly exposed. She gulps, kind of speechless and looking behind his body to notice if there’s someone watching the scene. Shawn immediately walks past the bathroom’s door and closes it behind him, giving her more privacy but danger at the same time.

“Missed me?” Y/N asks turning back to the mirror in front of her.

“You think you’re so good, don’t you?” Shawn spits in return, laughing under his breath and she knows better not to look at him. He surely has a boyish smile adorning his face, little scar making its presence together with his unruly curls and deadly gaze. His cologne inebriates the smaller place, and he insists on being in her view by standing behind her frame, leaning against the cold tiles.

“That’s what you used to tell me.” Y/N answers, face serious and admiring her own reflection, struggling on the dress though.

It gives Shawn the room to step forward, his calloused fingers immediately holding her wrists and putting them in front of her body delicately. They wander up her arms, leaving trails of goosebumps behind and finishing the trip on her neck, massaging the sides with his thumbs while his other fingers trap her throat very softly.

“Tense?”

“Around you?” Y/N asks, feeling the knot of her silk dress only loosening more. Soon, both straps fall down to her arms and she feels the need to inhale a bigger amount of air before speaking up again. “Never.”

This time, Shawn chuckles out loud and runs his thumbs further up, massaging the sweet spot next to where her hair begins. To this, Y/N closes her eyes and leans against his touch, letting out the quietest whimper. And it isn’t enough for Shawn, because he starts to drift his hands back down to the extension of her bare back, mapping the smooth skin intensely. He drops his face down to sniff on the crook of her neck, licking his lips and planting a feather–like kiss on her shoulder, making her shiver. He envolves her hips with his tattooed arm while the other one comes back up to hold her chin lovingly, catching the view of her legs as he levels his face with hers, cheek to cheek.

“Not one bit?”

“M-Mm.”

Purposely, Shawn giggles once again making sure his breath fans against her warm flesh. His mouth kisses up her neck as she tilts her head to the side, enjoying his touch. In each kiss, he pressed his lips down harder and Y/N grabs onto his arm, holding it strongly.

When Shawn finishes his way up, he stops on the shell of her ear, “Then tell me why do your legs clench everytime I touch you, hm?”

It’s not like he needed an answer, he came upstairs with a plan. As Y/N opens her eyes and catches his fiery glance through the mirror, Shawn knows it’ll be another night of making his name roll out of her tongue as his work on her whole body like he’d been wanting to do for so long — ‘cause nothing else tastes better than Y/N unraveling her true feelings under his control, eating her lies up.

Taglist: @tastebaldwin – @outlandishnerd – @shawnsheaven – @littlebrownngirl – @snowflakeparker – @mcuspidey

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #mine #ficsofmine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs

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breathings-of-the-heart · 5 years

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To Love Another

Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: Hey guys!! Back after a long hiatus, sorry hehe. I know y’all must hear this a lot and be sick of it, but there was a lot going on in my personal life that I needed to deal with. (I.E. an parent custody issues and succession of court cases) But everything has been settled in my favor so I’m back and excited!!

Anyway, this is a part two I promised like years ago which can stand by itself kinda so u don’t have to go back and read part one lol. I wrote so much that I’m dividing it in two; part three will be out most likely by tomorrow. If you want to read part one, link for it is here: Imagine Relating to Mikasa about Loving someone in the Military

(requested by @a-single-uwo @dracq and @little-diva-gurl and to you three specifically, so sorry for the wait! But I didn’t forget :3)

“He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anyone. Surely you know that,” Hange tried to plead, taking (Y/N)’s small hands into her own.

With an inability to overlook the throbbing in her chest, the girl simply met her gaze with a sorrowful smile. Her friend’s expression was sympathetic, conveying her sentiment with a sense of urgency and conviction; such a gesture was appreciated, but considering the events of today leading the broken girl thus far, easy to brush off. Levi’s own harsh words and hard-set countenance were forever etched into (Y/N)’s memory-- speaking louder than any other subconscious that told her he didn’t mean the things he’d spoken. All she could see now was the Captain’s anger trumping all the blinding endearment she thought the two of them to shared. There was no room in her brain for two such vastly different images… the young woman viewed herself an idiot.

(Y/N) was barely able to speak, a thousand words at once caught in behind her pursed lips as she shook her head, wishing Hange’s statement was true.

“With all do respect, Section Commander…” weak voice trailing off, the petite beauty cleared her throat and willed herself not to cry. “I don’t believe you. I was a fool to think of myself as more than my true worth to Levi.”

Said man of the conversation stood on the other side of the door, a whole world away, fist lifted mid-knock. He stilled, gray orbs downcast as he heard the girl’s reply echoing in his ears.

The documents in his hand fell from his fingertips as his body slacked, the pages fluttering in the air and settling with the ambiance. He hadn’t realized he dropped them, and when he did, Levi could not bring himself to care. His eyelids squeezed shut painfully and the stoic male turned heel, footsteps rhythmically sounding off the lacquer floor as he shuffled away in defeat and heartache.

And only when the stoic man reached the privacy of his room did he realize his fingernails were dug so tightly into his palms that crescent moon scars would indent the skin for life.

A cruel, constant reminder. A testimony to his greatest pain--- your heartbreak.

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

Commander Erwin sat at the head of the office table of one of the many meeting rooms littered along the castle, a serious expression cast on his defined face. There was a tired yet determined look fixed on his shadowed face; deceptively aged with worry lines creased across his forehead: a tell to the stress and conflicting passion his position required. Untold horrors must have crossed the man’s mind on the daily, yet, the disciplined, solemn facade did well to suggest otherwise.

Even in another dim scenario such as this one, he remained the epitome of strength.

As Erwin studied a long paper in front of him, there was a flicker of deep thought that passed just as quickly as it came. The thought grew smaller in his eyes, and the put-together authority figure stroked his freshly kempt chin.

Having not seen the Scouts since their rescue mission to save Eren, you were shocked at the change in the head of the regiment. With an arm lost and the deceptively young-looking appearance faded, it was only then when you realized his hair told stories as well-- speckled with select gray strands, the stress-revealers hid amongst a thicket of slicked away blondes.

Things seem to have shifted. From what I’ve read in the reports… Eren controlled the Titans with his scream without knowing how. It feels like we’re moving forwards and backwards at the same time.

You touched the bandaging around your torso, wincing a tad as you pressed too hard.

If I’d been more careful last mission I would’ve seen it all for myself.

A map was spread out across the wooden surface of the ancient worktable, the parchment’s top ends brushing against your fingertips. It gave off a beige hue with ink blended in a thoughtful, delicately beautiful layout of Wall Maria’s charted territory. Sunlight filtered through the window shades and illuminated the figurines representing another formation of the Commander’s. Clusters creating an almost horseshoe shape laid out in front of the spectators in the room, squads labeled accordingly. The symbols representing the Special Operations Squad were located on the innermost circle, standing out in bright yellow.

You took a moment to gaze up and break away from the lull of the deafening silence.

You were painfully aware of Captain Levi’s presence next to you. Eren sat on your other side, with another squad leader directly across. Hange was at Erwin’s left side, and Moblit peered past Mikasa’s shoulder in order to see properly as the head of the Survey Corps spoke, finally leaving the separate worlds of his own mind. Armin and stood behind the blonde man, absorbing each of his words carefully.

“There’s many obstacles to be dealt with, naturally” Erwin intoned, officially beginning the meeting. “For starters, we cannot risk any casualties on the journey to Shiganshina. Knowing the enemy, they will be prepared for our arrival and not a single soldier can be spared until we get to the battle field.”

Erwin brought up a lingering, troubling issue that already started to make your head hurt. As a key strategist and extension of the Brain Trust, however, your mind was your strongest weapon. There had to be a way to work around it all.

“Traveling at night is yet another risk,” you relayed, resting your weight on your forearms. “Considering the events experienced the night of the Beast Titan’s appearance.”

The light of the full moon must have been bright enough to give the titans energy.

“How are we supposed to work our way around that?” Eren groaned in exasperation.

You wracked your brain, biting your lip in frustration as all came up blank. All motion came to a halt, though, as you felt a hand grip your knee firmly. Electricity shot through your body as you met the penetrating gaze.

Levi.

“Calm down, brat. Tapping incessantly will only piss me off.”

You hadn’t even known you’d been doing it, but the second the Captain touched you, you were frozen.

Your eyes met his, fully, for the first time in months. And from that instant on, they were trapped in the blue-gray you had drowned in so many times before. You couldn’t help but absorb the sight and engrave it to memory, the art of Levi himself a blessing you had nearly forgotten. But he was different from last time. Maybe it was the illusion fading, or your distant memory. Of him, never.

He looked tired, like you, the fire in those orbs dulled into dying embers. Was that the mission’s doing? The loss of nearly half the regiment?

Or was it something else entirely?

Then your focus shifted to his hand, which dared to travel the smallest bit upwards. Levi kept it there, as if stuck in his own trance. A minute, hour, day could have passed and still, in that moment, you wouldn’t have noticed.

Until reality hit and you remembered everything anew.

As if he had been burned, Levi retracted his hand as quickly as you looked away. The illusion faded once more, just as tragic as last time.

Breath, (Y/N). This is bigger than you.

“I suspect,” you sighed, regaining yourself, “the indirect source of sunlight the moon reflects, is enough to generate energy for these new titans. The solution is simple.”

“We can initiate the expedition next new moon!” Armin exclaimed, pointing at you excitedly.

“Mhmm, that is our most promising option. But I doubt it will be safe doing it on horseback. We need to be quiet, stealthy, and aware of our surroundings considering the dangers of the dark. Our vision will be limited,” Hange pointed out. “We’ll need to walk them and our supplies, and find a better source of light.”

Erwin nodded, looking slightly impressed.

And as your nonchalant front solidified, you realized it was becoming easier to smile than to remember the hurt. It seemed that way for Levi too, who took an elegant sip of tea as if nothing fazed him at all.

There are more important things, clearly.

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evolsinner · 3 years

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⊱┊24

days go by, another one comes across. however, today is that day, and by ‘that day’ i mean, can we all please have a drumroll, it’s fucking parent~teacher interviews! aka an interrogation under the guise of pleasantries. i thought if i didn’t think about it, it’d just fucking disappear, but hey no, it’s still here.

but that’s okay, you see my parents don’t know a thing about it. i shredded all the notices they’ve sent us and made sure to cut the line every time my sneaky ass school called home. so when it came to my last class for the day, which is english lit obviously, i was quite happy that i didn’t have to stay behind like some students.

the class is empty, it’s almost 4 sharp.

“it’s only interviews,” i try to ease mr killian’s nerves. “just tell them what they wanna hear ~ easy peasy.”

“i wish, but it doesn’t work like that, luv. you know,” he looks up from his paper and removes his reading glasses to rub his weary eyes, “believe it or not, but we hate this day just as much as you kids do.”

“really?” i’m shooked. “thought you teachers just loved taking your sweet as revenge on students on this devilish day. it’s practically reverse halloween where the educators aren’t in costume for the first time, huh.”

mr killian places his pen behind his ear, entertained. “‘reverse halloween’, aye?” he leans back on his chair, arms folded and an ankle~on~knee. “you’re too funny.”

“‘funny’?” i walk over to him, admiring the tantalising dark circles underneath his scintillating eyes. “yeah? and what else?”

he possessively pulls me in between his legs, squeezing my booty in fistfuls. “and sexy and fierce and delicious.”

“do you want a bj?”

“oh, and very fucking naughty too!”

“what you gonna do about it?”

“gee, you’re tempting me.”

“mhm,” i bite my lip.

“you are in serious need of punishment, little girl,” he flicks an eyebrow up. “slide down your panties and lean over my desk.”

my eyes open wide, “no.”

“pardon?”

“i mean, there’s no space on y~y~your desk,” i glance at it. “there’s those booklets, essays, midterms, finals, your laptop...”

“i’ll make space.”

“uh, umm,” i step back.

“nuh~uh,” he pulls me in again so that i’m standing with my thighs directly opposite his thingy. “slide ‘em down right in front of me.”

“that’s too close,” i squeak, going red.

“what difference does it make? you a step back or not, i’ll still see it. c’mon,” he feathers a finger down my bare thigh, “you can’t still be shy? i’ve seen every part of you, every inch of you. the hills, the slopes, the blemishes... want me to go on?”

ok, imma prove him wrong. i undo the button and zipper on my shorts, exposing the bright red lacy panties i got just for him.

“you were hiding those from me?” he points to them, sounding offended.

slowly, i rub my hand over the skimpy fabric, sticking a finger behind the elastic.

“such a tease,” sir leans back. “congratulations, darling, you’ve earned yourself 5 more spanks.”

the thought of him spanking me…

“want me to go easy on you?” he asks, and i see rare mercy dancing around in his eyes.

i nod, prolly a goner if i were dumb enough to take my chances with this guy.

“then touch yourself, sweetheart,” the mercy evaporates from his eyes completely. he just went from a saint to a sinner in a millisecond. “mhm,” he nods to my hesitant expression, “slide your hand through your panties and touch yourself for me. if you don’t moan my name whilst finger~fucking your cunt, i’ll give you the belt.”

heck no, i don’t want to get spanked with a belt! that’ll hurt so much more!! i’ve seen it on 50sog!

“y~you w~want me to m~masturbate for you?”

“did i stutter?”

no, but i did.

shocked at how strangely turned on i’m feeling, i slide my fingertips under the double thin lines of the red covered elastic bands. tell me, why did i wear this again? i inch my fingers down further, my breath hitching up and pelvic muscles contracting.

sir slides his hand into his pants and gently strokes his cock, scarring me with imaginary ciggy burns from the way he’s staring at me doing me. “hurry it up, little one, time is of the essence.”

3 knocks on the door and it swings open with a, “hello?”

mr killian speedily sits up.

and i step back right away, pulling my hand out and tugging my shirt over the open zipper. “mum?”

“roséah,” she squints, “what on earth... dear lord, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

i refuse to blink. i think i’m having something like a heart attack. “w~what do you mean?”

“well, for starters,” she struts up to me, “you didn’t tell me that today was parent~teacher interview night.”

i exhale deeply, relief has never felt this good.

“mr killian, i presume?” mum says, holding her hand out.

i quickly fix myself up behind her.

“please,” he smiles, shaking her hand, “call me isaac.”

why the fuck would mum come here without informing me about it?!?

“apologies for not booking in a time slot and barging in like this. had i known,” mum gives me an irritated look, “i would have been more prepared.”

“it’s no worries, mrs blackburn,” sir tries to downplay it. “i reckon i can squeeze you in before my first interview. so please,” he motions to the two seats preplaced in front of the desk, “have a seat.”

“christella will do just fine,” and she takes no time in making herself comfortable.

i roll my eyes, so fucking annoyed and anxious at the same time.

“if you don’t mind my saying so,” sir gracefully says, “but now i know where your beautiful daughter gets her beautiful looks from.”

mum titters, tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear and straightening out her pencil skirt.

tf.

sir glances at me and it’s so provocative in nature that i can’t look away, hence he does it for me. “do we have a common friend that can get both of us acquainted with one another?” he causally asks my mother with a chuckle.

aren’t they supposed to be talking about me?

“i don’t suppose so, isn’t that a shame?” mum smiles.

“‘shame’ would be an understatement, stella…can i call you stella?”

“you can call me whatever you want, isaac.”

“ahem!!” eww. ew. “mum,” i shake my head at her like ‘did you forget you have a husband?’, “you might wanna..”

“oh, yes, of course! silly me. so do tell, isaac? how has my daughter been doing?”

“well, to be candour, i’m rather impressed at how dedicated rosé is on learning.”

“hm, is that so?” she gives me a suspicious glance.

“indeed,” mr killian sends me a secret wink.

“does she slack off? because you’d tell me if she did, right?” mum asks.

“mum,” i grumble, she’s so embarrassing sometimes.

mr killian chuckles, “you’d be the first to know, stella. fortunately, that isn’t the case. rosé has quite the eye for accomplishing her goals.”

i’m getting lost in him again...

“gets all her work done on time, doesn’t send inappropriate text messages in class,” he proceeds professionally, kinda cocky, “nor does she ever has to stay back late.”

all of which i do the opposite of, i give him a guilty grin.

mum looks rather very taken aback, considering how i am at home. “seems like she’s quite the student?”

“you’d be surprised by what goes on in these walls.”

that not so hidden half~smile sir gives me pauses my mum in her tracks with her next question. i look at her sudden stiffness and notice how she’s surveying mr killian intently, her eyes narrowed into slits. oh crap.

“ahem!” i shift in my seat quickly.

sir coughs and swiftly brings in another topic.

mum gradually returns to her usual manner.

that was close.

when they finally say their farewells, i feel relieved as a fucking kite flying high up in a blue cloudless sky. mum did a few more interviews before she finally decided to go home. mr killian had given her false hope and high expectations, so it was funny when my other teachers informed her that my grades were declining from b’s and c’s to d’s and e’s.

oops, my bad.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

it’s late, a major thunderstorm has hit and maxi being the scaredy~cat he is has crept into my room for the night. incoming call from isaac. i decline it. so he calls me again. and i decline it again. busy tryna shoot him a text which he keeps interrupting with phone calls.

daddy🔐 is my furry baby avoiding my calls?

tf he just called me??????

me im not avoiding ur calls jus ctrn cuz baby bro is sleeping in my bed thunder isnt his strong suit :/

daddy🔐 why am i jealous?

lol, seriously? i smile, rolling over to the edge of my bed.

daddy🔐 can’t stop thinking about you...

me jus stop its not dat hard

god, i suck at this.

daddy🔐 i really need to be fucking inside you right now!

uh, what the fuck do i text back?!

daddy🔐 would it be inappropriate of me to ask you what you are wearing since you’re with your kid brother?

haha.

me wow, ur quite the gentleman, arent ya ?

daddy🔐 i try my best.

feeling kinky, i silently remove my oversized graphic tee and take two pictures of myself. then i quickly pop my tee back on before curling up on the bed and hitting ‘send’.

daddy🔐 mmmm leopard panties and no bra, sexy. though i do wish you could move your arm out of the way so i could see my two girls?

no, my boobies are too small and i’m shy!

daddy🔐 such unspeakable things i could to your body right about now. would you like to know, baby?

i’m so tempted to text back ‘yes’, but that’d just get me too hot and bothered which is not a good idea when your lil brother is lying right next to you.

me behave (;

daddy🔐 how about we finish off what we started back in the classroom?

me we hv company rmbr ?

daddy🔐 right.

there’s a while with those 3 flashing dots before he texts back.

daddy🔐 considering we have an audience tonight, i’m willing to keep it pg. on the contrary, was nice talking to your mother today.

me were u flirting w her ?

daddy🔐 i don’t know. was i?

me u so were ! nd evry subtextual sentence u uttered !! she cud hv caught on yanno ?!

daddy🔐 that, i couldn’t help. the look on your face was hilarious. hers too.

i almost lol by just picturing my mum’s face, but i suppress it.

me jus bc u made me laugh dnt mean im not still mad !

daddy🔐 allow me to make it up to you?

me go on...

daddy🔐 there’s this soirée i’m holding with my crew for the long weekend. lakehouse, few beers, great view - thank kinda thing. i want you there.

me y do u want me der ? (;

daddy🔐 ‘cause i wanna fuck you hard on my mate’s couch whilst everyone else is out by the lake.

oh?

daddy🔐 and also because i want you to get to know my people more. (:

he used a smiley face! he never uses smiley faces!

me hmm, guess ill hv 2 think bout it

because i have to ask my mum first!!

daddy🔐 hope this helps?

he sends me a photo or two back, like it was a trade or something. but jesus christ, isaac killian! he was definitely not kidding about having me on his mind!

daddy🔐 don’t ponder too much. goodnight, love.

“rosé..?” maxi murmurs behind me, rolling around.

shit. i drop my phone in an instant and cringe for my luck. “yeah?”

“you’re taking all the blanket and i’m cold..”

“oh, right...” i exhale with relief, placing my phone on the bedside table. i turn around, shifting the blanket over him and putting my arms around him. phew.

i rest my eyes for a second when maxi is like, “what was that?”

“hm?” i smile as he snuggles between my arms.

“that big cucumber looking thing on your phone.”

i almost choke on my saliva. “t~t~that was...you’re dreaming, maxi. this is all nothing but a dream...” i add some whooo noise effect to make it more believable.

“no i am not!” he asserts.

“yes you are! now shut up or go back to your own room.”

thunder cracks intensely and he doesn’t say anything further. thank you, sweet jesus.

#daddy #story #teacher #student #teacher x student #words #quotes #thoughts #poetry #poems #love #relationship

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one-spidey-boii · 4 years

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BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch nine

read ch eight here

masterlist

an; i’ve really struggled with juggling all my responsibilities lately so please forgive me. i just ate questionable fried rice and i’m feeling mediocre at best. have a great day you guys.

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 3.1k+

edie's pov

i take in a deep breath and click the call button on my phone after hovering over it with my thumb for a few long and painful seconds. i slowly bring it up to my ear. on the third ring, a small click sounds on the other end.

"ah! you're still alive. yippee!" tony's voice chirps jokingly at me from wherever he and the rest of the avengers were staying. i sit up in my bed and play with the end seam of my shorts.

"i am..." i trail off awkwardly, not entirely sure what to say to the man. he's making me call him everyday, and i don't know how long it's going to last, but i'm already running out of things to tell him at this point. i'm healing, my bruises are fading, the pain is subsiding.

"is peter treating you right?" he asks. i gulp at his question, remembering the moments peter and i shared only a day ago.

"u-uh yeah, wait- um what do you mean?" i stutter out, mentally kicking myself.

"i mean, is he taking care of you? yanno, making you chicken noodle soup or hot chocolate and giving you back massages- actually scratch that last one, i don't wanna think about that." he rambles on, my face flushes and i pull loose pieces of fabric off of my shorts completely in panic. no way can mr. stark find out about peter and i...whatever we are.

"hey! it's not like that." i mumble, doing my best to cover my nerves.

"yeah, sure it's not." tony retorts back with a snort, his voice just above a whisper. i'm at a loss for words, "uh, pfft, yeah, it's not."

"i don't care either way- well, that's a lie, i care a little bit. just keep healing and make sure peter stays sharp out there." i squirm in my spot and continue to update mr. stark on my condition, eager to get off of the phone.

with a final 'goodbye' and 'don't do anything stupid'- he ends the call and i flop back down on my bed. my side only slightly aches when i move now, becoming less of an annoyance and more of a numbing feeling.

i glance around my room at my fresh yellow walls. the color brightens the space and brings a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach. but my bed is still in the middle of the room, making me feel open and vulnerable on all sides. with one big huff i roll out of bed and plant my feet at the end of the frame. i give one push with both hands and the bed goes skidding back to the wall. in the process, my side cramps up and a burning sensation pushes its way through my body, making me wince.

"you okay there?" a soft, yet teasing voice speaks up from behind me. i dip my head down between my arms still placed on the bed and peek at the intruder through my legs from upside down. peter stands there, a lazy smirk spread across his lips. i roll my eyes and flip my head back up to turn around and face the boy.

"absolutely. i don't always need your help, parker." i reply and lean against the end of my bed. after the alarm went off last night, peter and i spent our time making food until he had to go out on patrol, more hesitant that ever to leave. none of us said a word about the disturbance, despite my suspicions. he returned late in the morning, later than his usual schedule. and when he did get back, he went straight to sleep, not even making it to his room. he stayed fast asleep on the couch until late afternoon. i guess he came straight to me after he woke up.

it's only been two days since i've been out, but my body is growing restless at the lack of adventure. jealousy poked at heart knowing that he would be the one seeing and protecting the city until mr. stark deemed me ready to get back out there.

i push the feeling away, not wanting to focus on things i have no control over.

peter takes a few steps closer to me, speaking playfully, "so, mr. stark gave me a call today. he wanted to know if i was taking care of you." once his body reaches mine, his fingertips immediately move to trail along my hips, "what do you think, wolfie? am i taking good care of you?" his voice lowers the closer he leans in.

i gulp audibly at his question, thinking back to my own conversation with mr. stark. my eyes meet his and i can’t t form any words under his gaze. so i just nod sheepishly at him, it seems to be the only thing i can do lately. peter's mouth curls into a satisfied smirk and it makes my stomach drop into my feet. an overwhelming surge of heat passes through my body and i have to lean back farther into the mattress for support.

peter and i didn't really talk about what had happened yesterday. at the time, it didn't seem weird or out of the ordinary. it felt natural, good. now that we've—i've—had time to think about it, well, i don't know what to think. i don't even know what to say to him. it's embarrassing how much control he seems to have over me, after so many years of being able to joke around as friends.

now his closeness makes my heart squeeze both in adoration and frustration. i'm angry at how fast he's able to make me melt into his hands. i used to tease and make him blush, now he somehow turned the tables. just add that to the list of things i can't control.

peter leans in, close enough to pepper a soft kiss to the corner of my lips, "i gotta head out, but i'll be around." he pulls away and points to his ear, where his comm rests.

"see you around." i say with a level voice, now too focused on gaining a hold of myself to be sweet with him. he drops his remaining hand from my hip, choosing to ignore my change in demeanor. with a small wave that reminds me of the nervous boy he used to be, he turns the corner and i'm alone again.

my skin is buzzing. the feeling is mostly concentrated on where peter's fingers had been, but it's spreading quick. needing a distraction from the feeling, i change out of my comfy clothes into something a little more suited for action. i rumble through my luggage and pull out a black sports bra with leggings to match. before i leave, i shove my own comm in my ear.

after making my way to the training room, i set up a few different targets. the first one is a simple circle with three red rings spaced around a red center, i place it firmly on the ground. the next one is the same, except this time i suspend it into the air, letting it sway back and forth. the last one is a little different. it's human shaped. as a fighter who refrains from hurting people as much as possible, i'm hesitant to set this one up. but after what i went through, i need the practice on a human target.

i flip through my phone and search for some music to get my energy up, i connect to the speakers that run throughout the house and crank up the volume. the bass of the music cancels out the continuous buzzing through my body, allowing me to shake the tension away. i stretch in front of the mirror before pulling a table to the far side of the room, opposite the targets.

on the table i set out an array of throwing knives, each one reflecting the fluorescent light from the high ceilings. i run my hand over the edge of one knife in particular before grabbing the handle and nailing the middle of the hanging target in one fluent motion. the knife sticks out from the center as the momentum violently swings the target in the air.

i take in a deep breath and pick up two more, one in each hand. i throw both at the same time, hitting the grounded target side by side with barely an inch between them. i continue to practice on the two targets, using up all the knives on the table in the process. i'm sweating and panting as i go to collect them and start again. i let my eyes pass over the human shaped target, but i quickly look away and focus on the other two once again.

after ignoring the last target for what seems like forever, i stop myself mid throw as i notice how shredded the others have become. i drop my arm to my side and use my other hand to turn off the music.

the silence of the room makes the pounding in my ears almost unbearable as i scope out my last challenge of the night. the lifeless figure has no face. it's only the silhouette of a head and torso, a simple shape. despite the fact, i can still see the features of one person in particular.

i raise my hand and ready myself to throw the potentially deadly weapon held in my grasp. i can feel my heart rate pick up and i stare down the figure before me.

a female, seemingly innocent.

my breathing grows heavier as i fall back on the memories of that night, only a few days ago.

she looked scared, all i wanted to do was help.

my stance falters at the thought. my eyes clouding over as i grit my teeth and shake my head to snap myself out of it.

"see what happens when you try and help people?"

with a grunt, i charge at the inanimate target before me. my legs cross the floor in three simple strides as i jump up to plunge the knife into the head of the target. i slide down and i hold the knife tighter in my grasp, letting it slice all the way down the figure, nearly severing it in two. i drop the weapon.

with heavy breaths, i turn to grab another human shaped target. i kick the other one out of the way, replacing it with the new one.

i try different attacks, needing to set up a new target every time i 'kill' the last one. i do it again, and again, and again- picturing the same face every time.

peter's pov

i can't just come out and tell edie i'm searching for the people that attacked her. but i can't come up with any explanation as to why i'm staying out so late—err, early? i don't know. i do know that every second i'm not out here looking, it's becoming more and more dangerous for her. it scares me.

the sun is peaking out from behind the tall buildings of the city. i spent the entire night staking out two people specifically, but no such luck. now i'm sat atop a building, hesitant to call it a day and go back to edie. but, oh boy, i want to see her. thinking about her makes my heart swell, and now that i'm finally able to show her how i feel, it seems like the whole world let out of sigh of relief for me.

i like the way she reacts to me. it being a huge contrast to the playful, witty banter that we used to share exclusively. now, when we get close- i'm the one who takes control. it's a weird change of pace between the both of us, but i don't mind it one bit. it’s almost like i crave it.

once making the decision to go back to the compound, i swing myself across the city, eager to see edie. i get to the door and press a suit covered thumb over the touch screen. the glass door slides open and i slip into the cold air of the compound, making sure the glass shuts and locks behind me before i go any further.

i pull the mask off my head and stumble into the living room, hoping edie is somewhere close. when i don't see her, my face drops and i turn to jog down the hall towards her bedroom. not finding her again, i raise my hand to the comm in my ear and speak.

"e, you there? where've you run off to?" i turn on my heel again to step into my room down the hall. as i do so, her voice floods through my head.

"training room." she utters, her usual soft voice sounding hardened and cold. i quirk an eyebrow up as i change into more comfortable clothes, confused by the girls tone. nevertheless, i finish up and trot over to her.

as i round the corner, my eyes settle on her standing in the middle of the room, rolling her shoulders back with a knife in her hand. i stand quietly and watch her movements, hesitant to step in and become an accidental target. edie raises her arm to throw and adjusts her feet into a low stance. so quickly, i almost miss it, the knife flies through the air towards a human shaped figure. to my surprise- it clatters against the target and falls to the floor.

she lets out a groan and pulls at her hair, muttering profanities under her breath as she turns to see me staring. her body stiffens under my gaze and slowly she lowers her arms to her side, a doe-eyed expression on her face.

"you're back." she mutters. i take a few steps into the room and gulp at what i see. targets similar to the one she just attacked are shredded and thrown across the room in piles. there must have been fifty of them, each one damaged in a different way.

looking back at her, i force a smile on my face, "you've been busy, yeah?"

her eyes follow the path mine took and she shrugs, indifferent, "mhm. training." i nod hesitantly.

"have you slept at all?" i pipe up, curious at how long she has been here.

"not really, no."

another nod, and i shuffle over to the table that holds her collection of weapons. i'm impressed with her skills, seeing as she has no 'super powers'. but damn, she could take anyone down in seconds. i admire the girl in front of me, hoping she knows just how much i do. not long after, a bug of curiosity wiggles around my stomach.

"do...you think you could teach me?" the words slip out of my mouth before i can think of the consequences. edie looks at me with a stoney expression that makes my heart jump. i regret my words immediately, afraid that i offended her or something.

i try to take it back, "i mean- only if you want! i know it's stupid so you don't..."

the devilish smile that creeps along her face shuts me up, "i'll teach you."

i let out a small breath, "o-okay. i should probably go change." i say as i look down at my baggy clothes and compare them to her tight fitted ones. edie shakes her head and waltzes up to me, the smug smile still gracing her lips. i grow nervous, realizing i'm in her territory now. this is her thing, so i force myself to hand over the reigns.

she gestures to the rows of knives on the table, "take you pick, parker." her cool and confident voice sends a small shiver down my spine. i look closer at the table and gingerly run my fingers along each sharp edge. i stop at a knife with a shiny black blade and red handle and i pick it up to feel the weight of it in my hand. the blade isn't metal or steel and it has small ridges on the surface. i bring it closer to examine it even further.

"that's obsidian, black volcanic glass. it was used a lot in the stone ages," edie takes the knife from my hands and twirls the point on the tip of her finger, "it's sharper than steel, and nowadays surgeons use it in their scalpels...good choice, peter." she smiles up at me. i can feel my cheeks flush. she places it back in my palm and struts to the center of the mat, "we'll start close, hopefully you can hit the target. how's your aim?"

i roll my eyes at her taunting words and walk over to her place on the mat. edie strolls around me in circles, observing my body language- which is less confident than i'd like to admit. she stands in front of me and plants her hands firmly on my hips, twisting them into a desired position. next, she does the same with my shoulders, all the while sticking her tongue out in concentration.

then she comes to the knife in my hand and pulls it away, only to place it back and wrap my fingers around it one by one. it immediately feels more comfortable in my hand. she circles me one more time and hums in satisfaction at her work.

"now, obsidian is brittle, so it's really important to make your shot count or else you risk breaking the blade," edie comes back around my front and leans in close, her finger resting under my chin, "don't break my blade." she threatens with a smug smile curling at the edge of her lips. i can't stop my eyes from dropping down to look at them, and she notices.

edie traces her finger along my jaw line, making me shiver once again. i groan at the lack of control over my body and my eyes widen at the sound. she just smiles and lets her hand fall down my chest to finally rest at her side before taking a step back. she points behind her to a circular target a few yards away.

"give it a go." her voice grows softer, encouraging me to make a move. i tighten my grip around the knife and raise my arm to chuck it at the target. i stop short.

"could you...maybe show me first?"

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit @kitykatnumber @franksholland @goddamnit5sos @thehugslut

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

“On the Run” || YEAR 3 – Ch.3 (HP au)

Chapter List

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Day posted: 7/17/2020

Word count: 3,119

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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They had walked for a good thirty minutes before collapsing onto a bench under a light. They were sleepy, tired, exhausted, and starving now. The small meal they were allowed to have had now been burned and their bodies were begging for more sustenance. The night was cold and the wind cut like paper despite how hot it had been earlier that day. The moon was hiding behind clouds and the air was unusually silent for what they were used to.

Privet Drive was normally quiet, not silent, out at night. They could always hear the Dursleys and sometimes even the neighbors as they talked about their new fancy cars or how delicious their wife’s meals had been that night.

Now the street was empty, most lights were out, and things barely looked recognizable. Harry had run off in such a hurry she was sure they had taken a turn down a new area they hadn’t ever been to and the eeriness of the night was setting in.

She remembered the escaped prisoner and knew she needed to get them back, even if it was very unlikely that he’d be walking around Little Whinging – if that was still where they even were. She caught her breath and calmed her heart.

“Harry, we have to go back.”

“We can’t,” he no longer sounded mad and determined, but scared.

Heather put a hand on his shoulder, “Yes we can. We just need to get a hold of a wizard, make her better, and accept whatever punishment they give us.”

“Murder. The Dursleys will kill us,” Harry hung his head and pressed his hands to his face.

“They’re too boring for murder. If anything, they’ll give us up and we might end up with a new, much nicer family,” Heather leaned down and smiled, trying to catch his attention.

“Or we’ll be separated.”

She sat back and sighed, “I won’t let that happen. We’ll talk to people and – ”

“YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING. You’re not going talk your way out of getting us separated – you think you can fix things and you can’t!”

She stood suddenly, towering over him, “You’re right. My job is KEEPING THINGS FROM HAPPENING. And YOUR job is BREAKING EVERYTHING AND HAVING IT ALL GO YOUR WAY.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he stood and pushed her back.

“You know exactly what,” she pushed harder.

Harry fell back, tripping over his trunk and winced in pain.

“Sorry! I – ”

He held up his hand, cutting her off, “What if… what if we fly to London? We could get our money and live somewhere else with it!”

She put her hands on her hips, “How would we fly there? Our trunks are heavy, we can’t use magic, and Muggles will see us.”

“Well for starters, we’re probably expelled so we can use magic just fine now – ”

Heather winced, not realizing how horrible the situation really was.

“Which means we can make our trunks light as feathers and mount them on the brooms. And last, well its night and dark and everyone’s asleep,” he dusted himself off and opened his trunk, searching for something.

“We can’t just – ”

Harry turned around, scanning the area behind them and she followed his lead, feeling like something was watching them. They both fixed their eyes on the rustling bushes on the other side of the street. They took out their wands and Harry cast Lumos, shining bright light ahead of them.

Heather’s hand went for Harry’s arm and squeezed tight as two large gleaming eyes came forward out of the bush. A large dark lump stepped out onto the curb, keeping its fierce eyes steady, and bared its large teeth. She pulled Harry back and they stepped slowly away from whatever black creature was inching towards them.

BANG

They jumped even farther back and both of them fell onto their trunks as a large purple object appeared in front of them before their eyes. She looked up at the glass doors of a giant triple decker bus as it swooshed open and a conductor in a matching purple uniform hopped down the stairs and looked down at them.

“’Choo two call for The Knight Bus?”

Harry stood quickly and walked around the side to where the beast was and came back shaking his head. The conductor looked at them funny and repeated his question slower.

Heather looked around and shrugged, and then nodded, “…Yes.”

“Then welcome! The Knight Bus will take u anywhere you wish, just say the place and you’ll be on your way! I’m Stan Shunpike, your conductor this night and that,” he jabbed his thumb back at the driver, “Is Ernie Prang.”

Heather turned to Harry and whispered, “We can go back now and – ”

“How much to get to London?” Harry picked up his trunk and walked towards Stan.

“’Leven Sickles,” he squinted at Harry’s forehead.

Heather coughed and directed Stan’s attention away while Harry fixed his hair to cover his scar, “No, sorry, we’re going to Privet Drive.”

“Well I’M going to the Leaky Cauldron in London,” Harry reached into his trunk and took out eleven sickles and handed them to Stan. “You can take her wherever she wants,” he boarded the bus.

Heather scoffed and kicked open her trunk, dug out eleven sickles and dropped it into Stan’s open hand. She kicked her trunk closed and dragged it up the steps. She stood next to Harry, looking at five beds on the floor of the bus, all empty but one, containing a snoring old man with a bright orange night cap.

“You can ‘ave that one, and you this one,” Stan pointed at the two closest beds. “Right, now it’s all settled – Do your thing, Ern!”

BANG

They fell back onto the bed behind the driver as the bus shot forward at incredible speeds. Harry and Heather pressed their faces against the window and watched the lights and cars zoom passed like lightning, street after street.

“H-how fast are we going? It l-looks really fast,” Harry gripped the metal rail tight as they turned a corner on only the left side wheels.

Heather gripped the bed frame to keep from rolling off the bed.

“Don’ know… fast. That’s for sure,” Stan leaned on the armrest of Ernie’s reclining chair. “Five seconds an’ we’re in Wales.”

They watched Stan walk to the wooden staircase and call out to a “Madam Marsh” before turning back to them. “So woss your names.”

“Er,” Harry looked at Heather.

She shook her head and shrugged at him.

“I’m… N…eville… Neville Longbottom.”

“Right… and I’m Heather… Longbottom,” she pressed her lips together and waited for a reaction from Stan.

“Wuh, siblings or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Harry grinned, “Twins actually.”

Stan grinned back and scratched at the few pimples on his chin, “Never met twins before, that’s coo’.”

They nodded and huddled closer on the bed as they narrowly avoided two red double-deckers on the street. Stan either had no regard for his life or had complete and utter confidence in the old man with thick round glasses squinting behind the giant wheel.

BANG

The bus stopped and the bed slid forward. They barely had enough time to bring their legs up onto the bed when the side crashed behind the small driver’s wall. Stan kicked them back and helped an older woman get off the bus.

BANG

They were sent back like a set of marbles trapped in a pinball machine. How the other wizard was still asleep was beyond Heather, but it was incredible seeing a whole new part to the wizarding world besides shoppers, teachers, and students.

“How old are you?” Heather call out to Stan.

He cupped his hands, “Nineteen.”

BANG

They were sent forward and bounced back, and two more wizards boarded and headed to the third floor. As Heather’s eyes followed them up she noticed a fancy chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the bus. It swung ominously over them.

BANG

They bumped the back bed and rolled forward.

“When are we getting there,” Harry held his stomach.

Stan took out a large pocket watch, “In a minute.” He sat on the armrest again and unfolded the Daily Prophet.

Heather gasped as the same escaped convict on the muggle news stared back at them from the front page.

“That’s… Who is that? He was on the Muggle news!” Harry pointed.

“Neville, where you been? That’s Sirius Black, that is. Only wizard to have EVER escaped from Azkaban,” Stan tisked them and turned back to the page he was on, “Woz a big You-Know-‘Oo supporter. An’ only murdered thirteen people…” he looked at them from over the paper, “You two know of ‘Arry Potter, don’t you?”

They nodded quickly and Harry flattened his hair again.

“Good, at least. Well when he defeated You-Know-‘Oo, Sirius Black thought he’d take over, well it took a whole team of Aurors to bring ‘im in and all he did was laugh… Mad fellow, innee, Ern?”

BANG

The bed shot forward and bounced back, knocking Harry and Heather against each other.

“Well, ‘ere it is, the Leaky Cauldron,” Stan dragged Harry’s trunk from under his bed and rolled it down the stairs.

“Harry, look, you can wait here and I’ll go back and sort things out. You have enough for a few nights stay right?”

Harry frowned at her, “Sure. Whatever. If you’d rather live with the Dursleys – ”

She sighed, starting to get frustrated, “We need to stay somewhere permanent. We don’t have jobs. And if we’ve been expelled, we’ll have our wands snapped like Hagrid which means no magic.”

Harry’s frown disappeared and his expression turned worried again, “F-fine… Get in touch with me… somehow. I have enough for a week without your help so, either come back tomorrow if you can’t fix things or send Hedwig to me when she gets back.”

She nodded.

“At least the Weasleys will be back in two weeks,” Harry walked off the bus and rolled his trunk through the barely noticeable doors on the street.

Stan jumped back on and turned to her, “You’re the last one. So where to then?”

“4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey…” Heather sat back down on the front bed and held on tight as they shot forward again.

If it took thirty minutes to get to the Leaky Cauldron in London from the street they had stopped at, then it took around ten to make it back to Privet Drive. The bus halted in front of the Dursley’s house, whose lights were all still on.

She could see figures through the closed curtains, moving about and a strange pink car parked on the driveway. She picked up her trunk and headed out, waving goodbye to Stan and Ernie. The gravel crunched under her shoes and the night air howled through the tree leaves. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Within seconds the door flew open and an extremely tall and slightly chubby woman with a flashy eyeshadow smiled down at her.

“Ah, Miss Potter, dear, come in!”

Heather stepped through and looked at her awkwardly as the woman looked around outside before closing the door.

“Where is that wonderful brother of yours, dear?”

“He… uh… who are you?” Heather reached for her wand and held it firmly behind her, just in case.

“I’m from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad – the Minister of Magic sent us, Cornelius Fudge,” she smiled and pushed her through to the living room.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were seated on the couch across from a much smaller – older than even Dumbledore – man with a blue-feathered hat, who sat patiently sipping tea while Marge deflated in the backyard. The Tall woman took out a measuring tape and walked through the kitchen and out the glass doors to Marge and measured her arms, legs, head, neck, and waist.

She walked back in with a big grin, “Just a few more inches.”

“What will she say after all this!” Uncle Vernon grumbled and looked over at her, “So you’re back now, are you? Couldn’t handle the real world out there, could you?”

“Now, now, a deal’s a deal,” the tiny old man sung, “We put everything back to normal and the wee Potters can stay as they were, right here in their home.”

“MY home,” Uncle Vernon grumbled again.

“Where is your brother, dear?” the tall woman looked around again and down at Heather’s trunk.

“Not here… At the Leaky Cauldron – ”

“Ah, well then he’ll see the Minister of Magic there – he thought that was where he’d go – only a shame we couldn’t meet him.”

“Shame,” the tiny man repeated and took a sip of tea.

“Is… he in trouble? Are we expelled?”

“Oh dear, of course not! For blowing up your Aunt?” she laughed.

Uncle Vernon made a disgruntled noise.

“So…” Heather was trying to wrap her head around everything, “But last year a house elf’s magic got us in trouble – ”

“We should leave the past in the past, unless you’ve got yourself the right permits” the tiny man laughed, “Your brother will be staying there for the remainder of your vacation and there should be a room there for you too, paid for by the Ministry of course.”

Heather blinked multiple times, trying to understand how it was possible for Harry to have blown up Marge only to get them free rooms at Diagon Alley. She excused herself and walked out of the room and made her way up the stairs. Dudley was sitting on his bed watching his tv when she walked by and saw him jump off the bed and hide under it.

She walked into the bathroom and locked the door. She took a deep breath and crumpled onto the soft lime green mat, mentally and emotionally exhausted. She rolled onto her back and winced, digging out from under her a sharp green letter.

“I forgot!”

She unfurled it and ripped it open, pulling out a nice thick green card from inside.

‘Potter. If you don’t want to lose your spot on the team then I suggest you practice. You can either do a mediocre job with those Weasleys or you can come over to actually train with an experienced player.

– Draco Malfoy.’

It had slanted writing but overall, it was pretty neat, neater than Harry’s at least. She ran her hands through her hair and sat there thinking. He was right about them possibly losing their places if they didn’t train like Marcus wanted, with specific drills and everything. She loved Quidditch, almost as much as potions and herbology, and way more than art… but not as much as Harry and not more than she liked her friends who would likely see her going over as betrayal.

She laid back down and thrashed about angrily before sitting up and accepting how things where. She opened the door, walked out – ignoring Dudley’s squeal – and passed their open bedroom door when she saw Hedwig standing on the windowsill.

She ran over and took the letter from her beak.

‘Heather! Everything’s ok we aren’t going to Azkaban and we aren’t expelled! The Dursleys have to take us back and we get our own rooms here! For three weeks! For free! Food too! No punishments! Can you believe it? Hurry back!’

She frowned and took out a pen from their desk drawer, flipping the parchment over to respond.

‘I didn’t know YOU could have gone to Azkaban. And good we aren’t expelled.’

She paused and thought some more about Draco’s letter. She hated how happy he was everything worked out. He should have at least gotten a stern talking to… Well maybe she could make him see that not everything turns out well. She continued writing:

‘But the Dursleys are still extremely upset. I told them it was me since I’m the one back, and they say if I clean up around the house and do all the chores for the rest of vacation, then they won’t make us sleep outside next summer.’

“There.”

She would be killing four birds with one stone now. He would see she was right to come back, that there WERE repercussions to his actions, he would feel guilty, and she’d be able to go train with Draco without Harry knowing. She looked at the letter for a bit longer, knowing how guilty she’d feel lying like this. Not to mention the fact that last year Draco was saying awful stuff about Hermione and all the other muggle-borns…

“But Quidditch…” she groaned.

It wasn’t fair lots of Slytherins had such bad attitudes and opinions. She hadn’t even made any friends in her house yet for fear they’d be bad people and Harry, Ron, and Hermione would disapprove. And it was even worse that the only person her age on the team was a Malfoy. But she didn’t want to lose her place. And for the moment, he was the only one who was willing to go through all of Marcus’ drills with her and knew what they were.

“It’s not like we can play Quidditch in Diagon Alley,” she smiled and tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, “See you, Hedwig. Make sure Harry is keeping me updated, alright?”

Hedwig hooted happily and flew away into the night. She went back downstairs and watched as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got Marge into the house and up the stairs.

“Memory wiped and no harm done,” the tall woman smiled, “Shall we give you a lift?”

Heather smiled back, “That would be great, thank you… Do you know where Malfoy Manor is?”

The woman frowned, “My dear, are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with Harry Potter? The Malfoys – ”

“I’m sure, thanks,” Heather cut her off as politely as possible.

She knew everything she’d say. How could a POTTER go to the house or even be friends with a MALFOY, former Voldemort Supporters? Mortal enemies of famous HARRY POTTER? Well, multiple people have also asked how she, a Potter, could be a Slytherin and so it didn’t matter to her. All she wanted, was to be just as good at Quidditch as Harry – so long as it was still fun – and prove BOTH Potters were skilled and powerful. Not just Harry.

“I’ll put your trunk in the back then,” the tall woman exited the house.

Heather followed the other wizard to the car and got settled in the back. The woman closed the trunk and got in the diver’s side and started the car, pulled out and headed away from Privet Drive and to what Heather hoped was Malfoy Manor and not the Leaky Cauldron.

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