#so NOW it's dealing with the bullshit of the body. which is certainly not fun to deal with either lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ac3id · 3 years

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“watch and learn,” | 18+

pairings: incel sakusa x fem!reader x ushijima

summary: sakusa gets tired of watching you take advantage of his friend, so he takes matters into his own hands to teach you a lesson. fortunately for him, ushijima feels the same

warnings: noncon, humiliation, voyeurism, anal, hate fucking.

a/n: this was high-key inspired by @vermiliren ‘s sakusa and ushijima concepts,,, love you <3

wordcount.: 4k+

tagging: @minitaureland, @oikawoahh, @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @sunshine-fangs

dm to be added/ removed!

Sakusa has a problem.

Well, Sakusa has many problems, but this one in particular manages to drive him crazy.

It makes his blood boil and his cock hard, it’s an irritating itch he just can’t scratch which makes him absolutely mad.

One could say such a problem must be nerve-wracking; something which keeps you up all night wondering how you can overcome it. Maybe it’s family, maybe it’s financial. It must be a big deal, right? But luckily for Sakusa, it’s just you.

His problem is you, his teammate’s girlfriend.

It’s weird. Technically, there should be no reason for him to think of his teammate’s girlfriend as anything but just as another girl but his heart tells him another story.

Whenever he thinks of you, he either imagines punching your beautiful face until it’s stained with wine red blood or shoving his cock down all of your holes which he hears you cry in agony. He imagines filling you up with his cum, clearing you of all your filth. There’s really no in-between, but sometimes he imagines doing it both...in the same order.

But hey! Sakusa is a good guy, he would never do such a thing! He respects women and most certainly he respects you. He obviously doesn’t think you’re a whore or anything for talking to a guy who isn’t your boyfriend, Ushijima. But gosh, even you notch it up a lot.

He rarely ever sees you, only when you arrive at bars uninvited with Ushijima or when you come down to the volleyball tournaments for Ushijima or when you wait for Ushijima while he practices in the stadium or….. When you go down to the grocery store where he just happens to be….multiple times.

Maybe you’re getting food for Ushijima, but he’s sure his teammate’s not going to eat half the junk you buy. Ushijima has a body to maintain, his health is very important to him. All of that fast food is not going to work him any favors.

Don’t you cook for him? You know, like a woman should?

You see, Sakusa is a little old fashioned. He likes tradition and sincerely pesters everyone to follow it. So it’s not a big surprise when he expects the same from you or any female in general. In the past, he’s been called an incel; a man who hates women was it? But that’s definitely not him. He loves them. Especially when they are naked on his computer screen, getting pinned down by a man two sizes bigger than themselves.

Sometimes he imagines you and Ushijma in their place and way more often, he imagines him with you over there instead.

So, see? He doesn’t women. He loves them! But… some women get on his nerves.

Some women like you.

He would never admit this, but Sakusa follows you around only because he does not trust you for Ushijima. Even when Ushi’s around, you flirt with other men while he’s sitting right next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. It gets worse when he is away.

He can always hear you make suggestive comments to the cute cashier in the store while he lurks away. He’s disgusted. He can’t understand why Ushijima still chooses to stay with you.

He’s dating a whore, you don’t care about him- you’re just having your fun. You’ll leave him once it gets over, you don’t like him. But you still have him entranced, so madly in love with you. Sukasa think-no, he knows it’s only because you’re good in bed. There’s no other reason for him to keep you around for so long, being a slut you probably know how to make a man feel good.

Sakusa understands that but it still bothers him. Like a good friend he is, he decides to tell Ushijima about you. It starts in the locker room after practice. Both of them stand together changing out of their sports gear, it was a tiring day, and the two men were tired. He’s surprised when Ushijima starts the conversation, midday through changing his shirt, he starts.

“So, what do you think of her?” Sakusa knows who he is talking about, you had come into the stadium that day to watch Ushijima practice, and he had spent the better half of his time glaring daggers and staring at you. Sakusa says your name cluelessly, “Yes, her.” Ushijima replies.

Sakusa clicks his tongue, “I think-” “Cut the bullshit, you’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Ushijima turns to him, his eyes dark and fatal. A frown rests on his face with his fists balled as if to throw a punch. Sakusa panics, not understanding why such an accusation could fall over his head.

“No- I- that’s not true!” he clarifies but Ushijima looks unmoved, “Then why the fuck do you keep looking at her?” the murderous glint in his eyes doesn’t disappear as he just gets angrier. A newfound fear forms within Sakusa, he had always respected Ushijima as a player and a man, he sure as hell didn’t want to start a fight with the green-haired man. He spills everything he knows, everything he’s seen.

The night when he spotted you kissing Atsumu, the relentless flirting, everything. It’s brutal, it breaks Ushijima’s heart but a necessary evil. He watches Ushijima’s spirit break when his eyes turn blank. He stares motionlessly on the floor, thinking. Sakusa feels the rage return, he’s so mad at you- how could you do this to anyone? All of you are the same, all women are the same but….but you are the worst!

Sakusa waits for a moment before speaking, “You can’t let her get away with this,” he starts. Ushijima looks up at him, listening diligently to his plan. “You should take revenge, don’t let her get away with this.” Revenge?

Ushijima’s eyes lit up at the word, many thoughts came into his mind when Sakusa said it. Revenge? Should he also kiss any of your friends behind your back? Should he be cold towards you? The idea of making you realize just how much you hurt him by lettering you experience the pain excited him. He loved you, he did but sometimes drastic measures have to be taken. “What should I do?” he asked impatiently, he wanted to find a way to fix his deteriorating relationship.

Sakusa pauses, his mind racing back to the many porn clips he has fapped to before and settling on which the big boyfriend destroys his little girlfriend’s pussy for cheating on him. “I’ll send a video.”

Later that night Ushijima receives a link from Sakusa, titled ‘boyfriend punishes girlfriend for cheating.’

“Wakatoshi?” you bask in confusion at the man standing next to your boyfriend at the front door. It was late at night and you were almost going to bed. Ushijima had texted you telling he’d be home late that night but you had managed to catch him just in time. You were not expecting his teammate to come along with him, though.

It was awkward, dressed only in some sleep shorts and Ushijima welcoming Sakusa in the house was weird. He never seemed to take his eyes off of you, you were genuinely creeped out. You let the two men talk in the living room while you headed to the kitchen to prepare them a little snack. They said they had already eaten but umm...hospitality? It was fine to both of them, they liked you better in the kitchen anyway.

“Have you tried a threesome before?” Sakusa asked, taking a seat. It was finally the day Ushijima was going to man up and teach you a lesson which you’d never forget. “No, I don’t like to share,” he replied. Sakusa nodded, “understandable.” they stood quiet for a second only for your humming to fill the room. Even though you were in the kitchen, your sweet melody still ringed till the other room. Ushijima threw Sakusa a knowing glance before he made his way to the kitchen to see you. Heading over next to you, he sized down your form.

Ushijima took a step forward, trapping you between the kitchen counter and his huge body. You bring your hands to his chest, keeping him at a distance from you and just feeling his warmth under your palms. You did this often, it wasn’t anything sexual. You just enjoyed feeling him under your fingertips.

“So, what’s his deal?” you ask, your voice low not to alert Sakusa sitting in the living room. It was late, very late. There was no reason for Ushijima to bring a friend over now, but if Sakusa needed a place to spend the night- that was a different story.

“He will go in sometime,” Ushijima answered back, his huge, warm palms caressing your cheeks. You lean into the touch as he looks down at you affectionately with pure innocent eyes until he can’t. The spell you have him under breaks and he remembers why Sakusa is here.

His thumb trails down to your lips, pushing against the soft and pillow-like features. You look at him in confusion, Surprised by his bold actions. Ushijima was a private person, seeing him act so suggestively while another man sat right in the next room shocked you...but you liked it.

You obediently open your mouth letting his digits enter your hot carven. A tingle of a dull, throbbing pull settles on your tongue as you frown. Looking up at Ushijima through your lashes, you watch him glare at you while he pinches your tongue between his two fingers.

You whine out, there was no lie that you like it rough but the unsettling expression on Ushijima's face frightened you.

“Do you remember the last time we went out for drinks with the team?” your eyes widened and your blood ran cold, you knew exactly what he was getting at. “Nod your fucking head, bitch.” his pinch grew tighter making you squeal harder and you hastily nodded. You heard footsteps ring as Sakusa appeared into the room. Turning your eyes to his immediately, asking him for assistance. You hope to see a reaction out of Sakusa, disgust at most- he’d tell you both to cut it out but Sakusa stood still with an unreadable expression. Was he not going to say anything?

Ushijima caught your attention back by pinching your tongue hard, once again. drool pooled in your mouth, slowly leaking past your lips. It was disgusting.

“That night, did you kiss Atsumu?”

He knew. This is why he was doing this, you could understand that, but why was Sakusa just watching?

Your gaze lowered to the floor and Ushijima let his fingers leave you, letting you talk. You kept your head down as you spoke. it was too heartbreaking, you knew you should have told Ushijima but for some reason you never did. you were sacred Ushijima would leave you.

“That night, Atsumu came onto me…. when you left me with him that day, he kissed me- I didn’t want him to..he just…” shaky breaths leave your lips as you recall the dreadful incident. Atsumu was drunk that night, he wasn’t thinking straight. He apologized to you sincerely the next day but the damage was done. you could still feel his uninvited touches roaming all over your body when he tried to grope you.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Ushijima turned to sakusa, the glare which was burning you now directed at him. Ushijima was furious at sakusa for accusing you but sakusa knew what he saw. he frowned at you, he remembers seeing you kissing the blonde back- you’re just lying now, trying to get out of this mess.

“She’s lying, I knew what I saw. don’t trust her,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?”

You scream at him with angry, glassy eyes immediately turning to Ushijima and begging him to not believe the dark-haired man. Sakusa watches you with calculating eyes, revising his next move. He knows he’s not going to let you go so easily, there’s only one reason he’s here tonight. And that’s to put a whore in her place, he’s not leaving until he gets a taste of you.

He starts again, “don’t listen to her, Ushijima. listen to me, I have no reason to lie to you I’m your friend.” He chooses his words carefully to manipulate Ushijima into siding with him.

Ushijima stares at you for a second before grabbing your wrist harshly, “it’ll be okay,” he whispers your name, pulling you along with him. you scream at him, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp as he thrusts your forward.

“Toshi’ stop. seriously, no. stop,” you cry and beg but he shows no mercy. He pulls you into your shared bedroom, throwing you on your shared bed. Sakusa quietly follows, locking the door behind him as he enters. “What should I do now?” Ushijima turns to sakusa who stands next to the door, his eyes run towards you and he watches you cowering on the bed. You curl yourself up, pushing your knees to your chest and burying your head in between. You sit at the edge of the bed, far away from the two men quiring in fear and dread. Sakusa had thought you’d be putting up more of a fight but seems like you knew your place. Besides there was no way you’d manage to win against the two giants, they’d crush you even before you can try.

“Do you not remember the video?” Sakusa asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a porn site. He clicks on the video he had forwarded to Ushijima, the video starts normally; a man talking to his supposed girlfriend but he skips the clip forward to the part he wants to see.

“You seriously want me to do that to her?” Ushijima asks, frowning at the screen. The porn actress is bent over the actor’s lap as he showers her bottom with powerful slaps. Blistering her ass and making her cry.

Sakusa nods. Ushijima looks bad at your quivering form before whispering, “like a child?”

Truth to be told, Sakusa knew Ushijima was a softie and that he cared about your feelings. That was the difference between him and the ace. He loved you and he loved you a little too much, you were the first thing swimming in his mind and it may be defined by some as romantic, Sakusa thought differently.

The thought disgusted him, caring so much about a mere woman; the man has to be crazy. Don’t get it wrong, Sakusa loves women so much he’s cornering you like this but he also firmly believes that women have duties. And by what he can see between you and Ushijima, you’re not fulfilling them at all and Ushijima is too much of a pussy to make you fix your mistakes.

He’s just helping his bro out. xx

Sakusa doesn’t answer him, instead, he looks at him with a fixed glare. Ushijima clicks his tongue, he didn’t want to hit his girlfriend like a child but he didn’t want to disrespect his friend either. He thinks for a moment before turning to you, making up his mind he chooses to spank you. A small smile of satisfaction crosses on Sakusa’s face as he watched Ushijima approach you.

His knee dips down on the bed as he moves forward to get you, “Toshi’ please, I will never, never talk to any guy ever again. You don’t need to do this.” you beg. Your eyes are glassy and your face is flushed from crying. You look up at your boyfriend with pleading eyes, hoping he’d listen to you. Ushijima stops in his tracks, hesitating to get you. He thinks about, maybe he should let you-

“Ushijima.”

Sakusa’s stern voice pulls him back to reality, he clicks his tongue and grabs you by your arm pulling you with him to the opposite edge of the bed. You keep crying and begging but Ushijima doesn’t bat an eye as he pulls you over his lap. He presses his hand against your back to keep you from running away while the other paws at your sleeping shorts.

“Stop screaming,” Sakusa commands, but you never listen to him. “Is this okay?” Ushijima flashes Sakusa a perfect view of your naked ass, your panties, and discarded on the floor. Sakusa walks over, standing in front of Ushijima, he leans in to grab a handful of your ass but Ushijima pushes his hand away. “No touching,” he commands.

As if they put salt on the wound, Ushijima moves along to fondle your ass. Playing with the soft flesh, squeezing them, spreading them all to his liking. A small smile grazes his face and for the first time, he realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. It makes him feel mighty, he loves the power he holds over you right now. The thoughts about what he can do to you flow straight to his cock. You feel his ever-growing bulge poke at your stomach under his pants.

Sakusa picks up your panties from the floor and right over in front of you, he grabs your face with his hands, squishing cheeks before shoving the panties into your mouth shutting you up once and for all. Ushijima throws him a glare but decides to ignore it eventually. His hands roam over your back one last time before he brings it up into the air and slams it down onto your round ass swiftly.

You cry out in pain, your bare ass stinging and burning. You hope for your boyfriend to calm down but he doesn’t give you a break, repeatedly hitting your ass with no sign of mercy. You cry and wither around, mumbling words that get muffled behind the gag making it impossible for any of them to understand.

Sakusa patiently watches the scene in front of him, you’re crying in pain while Ushijima spanks you. It’s kind of like the scenes he always fantasized about, the only difference being it’s him who’s raining down slaps on your naked ass instead of Ushijima.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“What?”

Sakusa wants to touch you, he wants to feel you under him. He’s not going to let himself watch you both doing it all night while he stands at the side with a raging boner and besides, Ushijima wasn’t hitting you hard enough. He pauses, looking up at Sakusa and you sigh in relief.

“You’re hitting her hard enough, at this rate she’ll never fear you,” he taunts and you frown. Your ass was already painfully red and swollen, you couldn't imagine how much longer you’d last.

In a flash, Ushijima pulled you on your feet, holding you by your arm. “You do it. I’m not enjoying this,” Sakusa’s eyes light up and he holds his urge to smile, he does not want to out himself.

“Watch and learn,”

He quietly walks over and changes roles, you squirm in his grip shaking your head no. You did not want to left under Sakusa’s touch at all, you had a feeling he hated you- which he did. He pulled you over his thighs where you could feeling his raging boner hit your stomach and just like Ushijima he started slapping your ass swiftly faster and much harder than your boyfriend.

They come without any warnings one after the other. You feel yourself tapping out now and then but a swift, harsh pull to your hair did just fine in waking you back into the nightmare. After Sakusa was done with abusing your ass, he started rubbing and playing with you. He squeezed your cheeks making you wince, spreading it open staring at your pulsing hole. His fingers even slipped down lower, dangerously close to your cunt.

“Sakusa,” Ushijima’s heavy voice cut through and Sakusa immediately lifted his hands off you. He pushed you down on the bed and removed the panties he had stuffed into your mouth. You coughed, your throat hoarse and your body exhausted.

Your bottom was numb, you could not feel a thing and your body was on fire. Ushijima called out to you, caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?” Ushijima felt bad. In all honesty, he did not want to hurt you but hearing the things Sakusa had said to him about you and what you did when he was not around made him feel like a small man, a man with no pride. It bothered him so he listens to Sakusa. He seemed to know what he was doing but now he sat filled with regrets.

Sakusa slapped Ushijima’s hand away from your face, “She’s fine. We aren’t done yet.”

Sakusa pulled you closer to him and ripped your shirt off your body, squeezing your tits and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. Ushijima dragged you back to him, at this point both the men were using you like a rag doll, literally. “I’m fucking her pussy.” he declared. You whined as he made you sit down on the bed but quickly switched positions so that you were straddling his thigh. You could see the dent in his jeans propped up, begging to be released. “What? Am I supposed to take her ass? That’s gross.” “You can use her mouth too,”

That was even grosser, Sakusa wanted to fuck your pussy. No doubt he’d love to ruin your ass and your mouth but today he wanted your pussy. He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately speechless when he saw Ushijima making out with you. He kisses you so passionately, your lips molding together, his tongue going down your throat. For a moment it felt like he wasn’t going to rape you here and now. Hell, maybe you are even enjoying this.

He scoffs, unbuckling his belt he walks behind you, settling for your ass. He feels like a third wheel, watching Ushijima kiss you so lovingly; licking your neck and biting down your tits making you moan.

He lifts you, spreading your cheeks, presenting your gaping hole to Sakusa. “You can go first,” he offers. Your start squirming around once again trying to free yourself from him. “Please, Wakatoshi no it will hurt. Please don’t-” “Shut up, bitch” Sakusa comes behind you, his hands closing around your petit neck. He squeezes around the soft flesh, effectively shutting you up. Out of desperation, you look up at Ushijima with watery eyes only to see him glaring at Sakusa. He slaps away Sakusa’s hand away from your neck, “Careful, she’s not yours’ bro.” his voice is filled with sarcasm. Sakusa scoffs moving back, “is she yours though? Sucking up to every guy ever who gives her an ounce of attention? Hate break it to you but your girl’s a whore, dude.” Sakusa returns. Sitting in the room with a hard-on, they glare at each other. Co-operating with Ushijima was harder than Sakusa thought and Ushijima much more possessive than he seemed.

The longer he stared with Sakusa with murderous intentions, the more fragile his grip on you became. Once you spotted it was weak enough, you broke out of it made for a run.

‘Fuck!” Ushijima screamed and chased after you with Sakusa following. You don’t get far, they catch you in the corridor. Ushijima pushes you against the wall, his hand coming up to grab your jaw making you look at him. ‘One fucking thing [y/n]. I told you it’ll be over fucking soon, didn’t I?” he slaps your face once. “It’s all your fault anyway. If it weren’t for you whoring out there like a fucking slut you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he slaps you twice, ouch. You plead guilty, promising him you’d never do it again but after repeated denials, you change your request. You choke back sobs as you try to calm your uneven breathing, “You can do anything you want to me but...just not him, please.” you turn to Sakusa shaking like a leaf. You didn’t want that man to be near you, nevertheless, touch you.

Ushijima thinks for a moment, turning to Sakusa. He thinks long and hard before answering, “It will be okay.” he says before pushing you against Sakusa. He didn’t want to give you up but you know what they say...Bros before Hos. Sakusa catches you roughly and pins you against his chest. He wraps his arm around your waist, letting the other pulls his pants down and pull his throbbing cock out of his briefs. It stands tall, not as thick as Ushijima but he’s big. With the red tip leaking with pre, he gives it a pump.

“Hold her legs,” he commands. Ushijima walks up to the two of you with his huge cock out and leaking, he wastes no time in grabbing one of your legs and pushing it up.

He lines his tip with your dry hole, “that’s enough foreplay, now,” he slowly truths inside, breaching past your cute cunt, splitting you into two. A burning pain flashes through you, slowly getting replaced by pleasure. Your tight cunt sucks up around his cock, salivating as he hits deeper and deeper. Sakusa gets tired of watching as he pushes his tips past your rim making you scream out. The intrusion is weird and unfamiliar, the deeper he goes the more evident it becomes. Sakusa decides to show you some mercy when he flicks down your little clit, pulsing with need. All of a sudden you start withering with pleasure, completely forgetting about the compromising position you are in.

“Fuck.” Ushijima mutters, your moans a melody to his ears. “Fuckin whore likes this,” Sakusa wanted you to shut up, your moans were turning him off. Sakusa felt he was close. Your walls hugging him snuggly, trying to milk him for all he’s worth but he doesn’t want to give up yet. There's an unspoken competition between the two men; whoever can last longer and his pride won’t let him loose. He holds himself together for a little longer, hoping for Ushijima to come before him.

“Don’t cum inside,” the green-haired man commands. He is close, his thrusts hit sloppy and uneven. He bits down on your neck as he shoots his thick, white load into your womb cumming with a loud grunt. Sakusa follows soon after, his length twitching he pulls it out of you. He jerks his cock over and cums all over your back.

He lets go of you, and you fall onto Ushijima, your boyfriend's strong arms wrapping around you to steady you up. “You should leave,” he suggests. He pulls his dick back into his pants and walks to the door, throwing a glance behind his shoulder; he sees Ushi stripping out his shirt and dressing you with him. He scoffs and turns around, feeling disgusted he can’t wait to go back to his own home and take a fucking shower. Even though he finally gets what he had wanted, he can’t help but feel unsatisfied. It would have been much better if it was just him and you minus the possessive freak, maybe….he can come again when Ushijima is not around….What’s the worst which could possibly happen?

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thatonecoryosimp · 3 years

Text

The Devil's Mercenary pt.3 Technoblade X reader

Hey y'all, this is part 3. Probably not the last part tho, I have some ideas for this story, but I would love some help on ideas for 4. This was wanted by the beautiful 🐍 anon. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive.

Series Masterlist

Pt. 4

Do I regret agreeing to the deal? Yes and no. I would have never said yes if this wasn't to save my ass, but at the same time, I'm glad that he gave me this opportunity.

Technoblade and I started off the next morning, giving Wilbur some bullshit excuse about going to get resources. I guess it wasn't a complete lie, but it most definitely wasn't a full truth.

The walk to the portal was relatively quiet, but oh gods was it boring. He had insisted on a portal somewhere only he knew, it was ridiculous. Not to mention the clothes I had on were not something to wear into the Nether.

We made it to the border of a glade. The sight was almost breathtaking, it had rolling hills and beautiful flowers. There were spots of ponds dotting the grassy fields. Bees buzzed overhead, and bunny's hopped along through the narrow tree patches.

A smile tugged at my lips as I followed the blood god through the greenery. I was in a daze as the ocean appeared in front of us. The coral-filled water was clear and unfiltered. The breeze was fresh, untouched by the people on the server.

The waves crashed as Dolphins rushed above the water, swimming in small packs. Fish danced in schools as they swam. If you looked close enough in the beautifully decorated area, you could see the colors of an axolotl or two.

The sight was enough to distract me from my evident demise, but only until it was rudely interrupted by the man it would be caused by.

"We're here," he huffed out. I turned to him. He was stalking off along the edge of the beach, there was a tiny shack where the woods began. I started to follow him soon after, my feet sloshing in the sand as I listened to the life around me.

The building would certainly be a blink and you'll miss it, that is if it didn't have the ghostly noises ringing out from inside it. That in itself was enough to catch anyone's attention.

The door thudded open as Tech pushed it. The hinges squeaked, and the floorboards cried out in despair as the hulking man stepped onto them. The eerie sounds only got louder as I followed him in, and it sealed my fate as purple particles came into view.

Technoblade didn't seem to care that I had frozen behind him, that or he didn't notice, which I doubt. He sat the bag he was carrying down on an old chair that looked like it would give way any second.

"We have food, water, and weapons," he stated as he turned to me. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you need armor?"

"Sweetheart, the day I need armor to go into the Nether is the day Tommy's voice stops cracking."

I slightly chuckled at that, it was nowhere near as close to the feeling of calm the water gave me, but it was something.

"Well, I guess we should just get it over with then." Tech nodded as he looked at me.

"You have a sword on you, right?" I patted my hip.

"Yup."

And that was that. He stepped in first, leaving me in the dark shack all on my own. I could run away now, leave everything behind, Wilbur, Tommy, Techno... this stupid bet... and... Dream. I sighed. I couldn't do that, I've already betrayed my friends, the least I could do is face karma as I should.

I made contact with the purple and a shiver shot down my spine. My feet rested on the obsidian below me as my body started to fade out of the world I knew. My eyes closed and a nauseous feeling fell over me.

I gasped, almost falling forward before catching myself. He stood before me as I leaned on the portal's edge. I will never get used to how that feels.

"There's a fortress right near here, it's only a little ways North."

I shook my head and stood up straight, my swords felt heavier than they ever had as I walked towards the brick building. My heart was hammering as my boots thumped. The Nether was cast in its usual red hue as we walked. The heat was close to unbearable, and my skin felt like it was melting.

The fortress was in a Soul Sand Valley. Of fucking course it was. He did say he needed a bunch of Wither skulls.

"We'll split up, that way we can get in and out, meet back here in an hour, if you're not here, I'll assume your dead and tell others as such, got it?"

I didn't really have the time to argue with him, nor did I feel like it. I just want to get this over with.

"Yeah, whatever."

Then he walked away. I started to make my way through the Nether Brick walls, there was a staircase leading downwards, that's probably my best bet. The clicks of my feet were very apparent as I walked downwards. My eyes caught onto the black bones of almost 6 skeletons. I unsheathed my swords from the belt and smirked. This was gonna be fun.

~~~~

It had been about forty-five minutes. I sighed heavily as I picked up the last skull I needed. I had a full stack, if that wasn't enough then I don't know how to please this man.

My body and clothes were covered in black dust, my hands hurt, and my swords needed to be cleaned. Thank the gods I knew which way was out, otherwise, I'd be completely screwed. The familiar stairs came into sight and I smiled. Finally.

I leaned against the wall where Technoblade told us to meet, my eyes shut and I finally had a chance to breathe. There was sweat dripping from my face, and my shirt was transparent as it hugged my skin.

My eyes shot open as I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards me. I unsheathed one sword and stood there. Eyes scanning along the area. Pink hair became visible and I relaxed.

Technoblade saw me and raised his eyebrows, "I really thought you'd be dead."

"Thanks for having faith in me," I grumbled with a roll of my eyes as I chucked the stack of skulls at him, "Let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Some mouth you have their sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I stated flatly.

"You sure didn't have a problem with Dream calling you that."

"Well you're not Dream, are you? You're most certainly not attractive enough to be. Looking like some knock-off barbie doll with that hair."

"Oh, alright high and mighty. You think you're some spectacular view?"

"Oh come on, I'm sure you'd just love to fuck me against the wall, huh Blade?"

His eyes turned to slits, "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, y'know, since you seem to be such a cock hungry whore, to the point where you'd betray the people that took you in, helped you, loved you."

I huffed. That sad thing is... he was right. Not about him, of course. But about me, everything he said about me was true in some aspect. My eyes trailed to the floor and I embraced defeat.

"Let's just go."

I stormed out, making my way back to the portal. Technoblade followed close behind me. Eyes glued on my back. I was gonna kill him. One day, I'm going to shove my sword through his heart and watch the Blood God crumbled to his knees.

But that day wouldn't be today...

And that day would never come. Because unbeknownst to me, fate had another idea. One that didn't involve hate, or plunging a sword through his heart.

I stepped into the glowing portal and fell through into the overworld.

~~~~

"There's a shower in the other room, but the water won't stay warm for both of us, the plumbing is shit."

"Well ain't that just lovely," I looked around the room, it was getting dark out, which didn't make much sense, but time is weird in the Nether, "I guess we're staying here tonight?"

Tech nodded, "It's the smartest idea, it's a long walk back, and there's two beds."

Well, ain't this just great? A night with the Blood God. Just what I needed.

"What about the shower situation?" He looked at the door, which I could only guess was the bathroom, "We could shower at the same time."

My eyes widened, "Do you expect me to shower with some pervert?"

He rolled his eyes, "Do you wanna shower in the cold?" I shook my head. "Didn't think so."

"Couldn't one of us just shower in the morning?"

"It'll still be cold, it takes almost two days for the water to warm up, it's never been much of a problem since I don't come here too often."

I sighed, "Fine, just don't be lookin at me." He nodded.

I should have just died in that fortress.

~~~~

Not too sure how I feel about that, but it didn't end up too bad. As I said earlier, I would love some ideas for part 4. Love you babes <3

#🐍anon #dsmp #mcyt #technoblade #technoblade x reader #y/n #x reader #x y/n #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. ��I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

#spiderman virgil #deadpool remus #superhero au #spiderman au #spideypool #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #violence tw #sex jokes #remus being remus #blood tw #injury #sanders sides #fanfiction #writing

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

��No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 2*

Part 1

Part 3

Y'all IDK what it is about this story but I can just write and write and write. This one ended up being 11 pages [on a google doc] And I only stopped because it's 2:15 am.

I hope you guys like this, but I just want to clarify: This isn't a Barisi fic. I'm sorry, if you're looking for that, just...this isn't it. I mean they do interact and it'll be fun, but they will not be ending up together.

That being said, enjoy this new chapter! I'm debating on how pathetic enamored Sonny is, I don't think I'm gonna go that deep. No worries, people.

As always let me know if you want to be added/deleted off the tag list!! <3

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

-------

"Y/N, I'm so happy for you and Barba. You make the cutest couple," Sonny beamed at you while you were wrapped in Rafael's arms, huge smiles on all of your faces.

"Thank you Sonny, that means so much." You gave him a warm hug.

"Yeah….and you'll make the cutest couple in HELL!" All of a sudden Sonny pushed both you and Rafael off a cliff.

You were falling to your death when you woke up to your professor glaring at you.

"Have a nice nap, Miss Y/N?" He scowled at you.

"Um," You cleared your throat and straightened up at your desk. "Yes sir,"

"Good," he huffed as he headed to the front of the classroom once more. "Maybe now we can continue without your snoring,"

You heard the students around you snicker at his comments as You sunk lower into your desk and waited for class to end. It had been a long train ride home and then a drive to your apartment last night, you hadn't gotten home until around 2 am and had this 8 am class. As soon as the professor dismissed your class you booked it out of the class and out into the parking lot of your community college.

"Ugh, could this day get any--" before you could even finish your thought you got your answer. Your phone beeped with a text from Rafael:

RAFA: Hey killer, how's the bullshit county? 😉

That was the nice thing, then just as you were about to text him back your phone lit up.

SONNY BOI CALLING

"Shit!" You hissed to no one. "How does he know?!"

"Ahem….Heyyy, cuz," You answered it with your best nonchalant voice. That of course sounded totally chalant.

"Hey sunshine," His voice sounded relaxed, thank God.

"What's up?" You tried keeping your tone light as you neared your car.

"Well y'know I was just thinkin, I feel real bad about standing you up last night,"

"Oh, Son it's no big deal really," the fact that he felt guilty about anything made you feel even more guilty.

"No, I know you have a busy schedule and it takes a lot to get into the City and I just blew you off," He kept on with the guilt train.

"You didn't blow me off Son you had work. I get that--" You unlocked your car and got in, starting it so your windows would thaw. And your whole body.

"Well I wanna make it up to you," He cut you off.

"Oh?" your voice fell short. This couldn't be good.

"Yeah, my boss-- well he's not really My boss but Mr. Barba--"

Oh shit. Barba? Was Barba having a party? Why wouldn't He tell you that? Wait why WOULD he tell you that? Stupid. Wait, what was Sonny saying?

".... birthday, so you could be like my date," you caught the tail end of his invite.

"Birthday?" You repeated like a parrot. It was Barba's birthday? Oh god. You were really trying not to focus on how old he was. Don't ask. For the love of god don't say it Sonny.

"Yeah don't worry you don't need to get him anything, I got it covered," Sonny assured you.

Well, that was one way you could figure out just how much your cousin cared about his "idol". The more expensive the gift, the stronger the feelings were. You wondered whether you should ask him now or wait for the surprise. Maybe you should ask now, then his answer should tell you what you'd be getting into.

*So what did you get this 'non boss' of yours?" You asked slyly.

"Oh," now Sonny's voice dropped. "Well I, I don't wanna say,"

Fuck.

Don't panic. Do not panic.

"Oh come on Sonny," you did your best to keep a joking tone. "What am I gonna do, tell him?"

Should you joke about it? Hidden in plain sight, right?

"No I guess not, it's not like you know him,"

Whew.

"It's just kinda embarrassing…."

Oh god.

"O-Oh?" You tried to stay calm. "Why's that? Is it a gag gift?"

Please be a gag gift.

"Actually it's a new briefcase," He replied.

"Oh why is that embarrassing you goof?” You gave him a hard time. What was that in the emotional baggage department? Pun intended.

"I mean, it's more expensive than the one I own," You could hear the shrug in his voice.

Fuck. Don't ask why. Don't ask. But if you don't ask, that will be even more suspicious wouldn't it?

"Oh Son," You asked softly. "Why would you do that?"

"Well the one he has is as old as dirt, I think it's probably the first one he ever bought. I wanted him to look snazzy in court." He replied with a super eager tone.

"That's sweet," you were pounding your steering wheel in frustration. Say it.

"Seems like a lot of work for a mentor though," You closed your eyes mentally killing yourself.

"Yeah well," he laughed uncomfortably.

Say it.

"Sonny…” You didn’t want to do this.

“Yeah?” He was oblivious.

“You know you can always talk to me,”

“Yeah of course,” He assured you.

“About anything,” You scrunched your nose.

“Yeah I know, sunshine,” He half laughed.

“ANYTHING,” You reiterated

There was a long awkward pause.

“...Sonny?” You made sure he hadn’t hung up on you.

“Yeah, I'm here,” He replied softly.

“So?” You waited for the bomb to drop.

So…. He sighed. "I just want him to like me,"

Dammit.

"....Yeah," You nodded, cursing yourself.

"Yeah, its stupid. I'm stupid." He laughed again.

“You're not stupid,” you laid your head on the steering wheel in shame.” I mean the heart wants what it wants right?”

“What?! Oh my god, Y/N,” He scoffed. “I'm not gay,”

“….Sonny it's 2021,” you shook your head. “Sexuality is a spectrum,”

Right well. He laughed defensively. "I'm on the p in the v scale,"

“Ugh, Sonny,” you made a face.

“Sorry sunshine,” He apologized. “I just...why would you even think that?!”

“Uh…” You paused.

Maybe he wasn't fully aware that he had romantic feelings for Rafael. If you started pointing out the signs, he might realize it. But then you'd have a cousin going through gay panic AND then finding out it doesn't matter anyway.

"No reason," You lied.

"I just want him to like him so he'll give me a good recommendation once I graduate Fordham Law,"

"Oh" you smacked your head. "Duh. Right. Of course,"

That was completely legitimate. Maybe you had been misreading this whole thing. Now you just had the whole overprotective Gotti side of Sonny to worry about.

"Well I guess I could spend the weekend in the city," You shrugged as you pulled out of the parking lot.

“Absolutely!” He exclaimed. “My couch is always open,”

Not exactly where you were thinking of sleeping, but you weren't blowing your cover over the phone. Wait, maybe you should. Then he couldn't kill you over the phone. Wait, he's presumably at work right now. You didn't know how closely he worked with Barba, but you figured it would be a hell of a lot easier for Sonny to get to him before you could stop him from killing Rafael.

"Sure sounds good. I'll see you then cuz,” You smiled and hung up the phone.

------

Friday arrived, and you once again found yourself standing outside Forlini's. You debated heavily whether to go in or not, but you told yourself you were going to wait for Sonny outside this time, no more risking a sexy bar rendezvous.

You hadn’t really responded to Rafael’s texts the last few days, and you certainly didn’t tell him you were coming. Maybe you should have told him. You grabbed your phone to text him when you heard a familiar voice behind you:

“Y/N?”

You spun around to see Rafael dressed to the 9’s, smiling at you. He smelled delicious, mixed with the food aroma wafting out of the restaurant and the smell of freshly fallen snow in New York City.

“...Happy Birthday, Counselor,” You bit your lip nervously.

“W-What are you doing here?” He stared at you as if he thought he was dreaming.

“Sonny invited me,” You nervously smiled.

“Seriously?” He laughed.

“Seriously,” You nodded with a laugh as well.

“Did-- did you say anything to him?” He asked you worriedly.

“Are you insane?!” You hit him. “No!”

“So why did he invite you here?” He asked.

“He said it was to make up for ditching me the other night,” You shrugged.

“...The irony,” He smirked.

“Mmm,” You nodded with an amused smile.

“Well this is a very happy birthday indeed,” He smiled, pulling you closer into his coat similar to the night you had met.

“....Just don’t ask which one it is,” He warned you while staring at your lips deviously.

“Deal,” You nodded in agreement before he pulled you into a hungry kiss.

“DUDE!!” You snapped back before his lips were on yours for more than a millisecond. “Are you nuts?! Sonny’s gonna be here any second!”

“It’s my birthday, carino,” He made a pouty face. “Don’t yell at me,”

“Oh lord,” You rolled your eyes. “Alright, man child,”

He was about to go for another sneaky kiss when you both heard a voice from behind you.

“....Sunshine?”

“Oh!” You jumped ten feet away from Rafael when you turned to see Sonny standing there with a huge gift bag, staring slack jawed at the two of you. “Sonny! I um, we--”

“I was teaching your cousin a lesson in New York safety,” Rafael talked over you, his face completely stone. God he was a good liar.

“Excuse me, counselor?” Sonny raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. You just stared in speechlessness.

“She was standing on this curb holding her bag out for any miscreant on these streets to just wrestle away from her, I was just demonstrating how,” He gestured to your open purse.

“Barba I really think this ain’t that kinda neighborhood,” Sonny half laughed.

“...You never know,” Rafael shrugged. “Now let’s all get inside, I’m sure everyone is anxious to start celebrating me,”

You and Sonny both rolled your eyes with smiles; too similar of smiles, you noticed. Thankfully, he did not. You both followed Rafael back to a private room where a bunch of fancy dressed people were mingling with drinks in their hands while two long empty tables stood in the middle of the room. They all stopped and clapped when Rafael walked in.

“Oh, for me?” He feigned surprise and humility.

“Yeah right Barba,” A woman laughed sarcastically. “You’re the one who invited us here,”

“Touche, Rita,” Rafael smirked as he began making the rounds around the table greeting everyone.

“So are we allowed to eat now, I’m starving,” An older man asked.

“And I’ve got a son waiting,” A red headed woman chimed in.

“Right, right,” Rafael nodded as people began to take seats. “Sorry everyone, you know I love to make a dramatic entrance,”

“Oh trust me we know, Barba,” Another man called. “Your catwalks into the courtroom prove that. I think we have a montage of them,”

“Ha Ha,” Rafael rolled his eyes, then turned to you and Sonny.

“Sonny,” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit next to me?”

“R-Really, counselor?” You saw Sonny’s eyes light up like Christmas tree lights.

Fuck. You knew he was only asking him so that you would sit next to him as well. And while you loved the idea, you knew how much this was toying with Sonny’s feelings.

“A-Are you sure, about that Mr. Barba?” You gave him a look.

“Absolutely, Miss-- I didn’t catch your name?” He played it so cool.

“Y/N,” You held out your hand as you re-introduced yourself.

“Right, well--” He shook your hand then turned his attention to Sonny who was still beaming like a kid on Christmas. “I don’t know how much Carisi has told you, but he is quite the promising mentee of mine,”

“....R-Really, Rafael?” Sonny blinked in disbelief, causing Rafael’s smile to falter for a moment. Sonny had never called him “Rafael” before, it was always “Barba”. Shit, maybe he had given him too much praise.

“I mean, you know, for a lap dog,” He quickly added with a snarky tone and a smirk.

“Mr. Barba!” You tried not to raise your voice at the birthday boy. “That is my cousin you’re talking ab---”

“No, no it’s fine Y/N-- th-that’s how we work isn’t it, counselor? He just gives me jabs, I know he doesn’t mean it,” Sonny laughed nervously, staring at the floor. He knew not to get too comfortable with Barba, why did he even try it?

“Indeed,” Rafael nodded in agreement. “But, I still request you sit by me-- at least I know you don't poison my food. Which is more than I can say for many of my esteemed ‘guests’,” He eyed the tables of people before him.

“Then why invite them to your party?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“I get that Jersey doesn’t have the social classes of Manhattan, Miss Y/N,” He smirked. “But here, you’ve got to do things to keep up appearances,”

“Oh do you?” You practically growled.

“Yes,” He nodded while a waiter brought him a glass of scotch. “Even if you don’t like someone, if they serve a purpose for you than you do what you must to keep in their good graces,”

“Oh is that so? So you’re only kind to people who can ‘serve’ you?” You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him.

What kind of Danny Zuko bullshit was this?! This was an entirely different Rafael Barba you had met the other night. He was kind, flirty, endearing. This new Barba was snarky and condescending, and you were not amused at all.

“Y/N, chill,” Sonny hissed at you. “This is just how Barba is, he’s harmless,”

“Yeah well you might not mind being his doormat Sonny, but I sure as hell won’t be,” You angrily stomped off.

“Oh my god,” Sonny muttered, wondering if he should run after you or not. “Barba, I am so so sorry about her,”

“It’s fine, Carisi,” He watched you stomping away, trying to hide the guilt in his voice. He was just trying his best to throw Sonny off the trail. He may have overcompensated just a tad.

“I-I should go check on her, She’s just a kid--”

“No, allow me,” Rafael put a hand to Sonny’s chest. “It was my faux paux, I should apologize to her myself. I was being a bit of an ass,”

“Yeah but that’s just you, Barba,” Sonny chuckled, trying not to blush at Rafael’s hand on his chest.

“True, but I forget not everyone knows me as well as you do, Carisi,” And now he was trying to be extra nice to Sonny to get on his good side, while cluelessly egging on his feelings.

“That is very true,” Sonny laughed even more nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll take a seat and get our drinks ordered,”

“Excellent,” Rafael smiled at him, probably one of five times in the entire time they’d known each other. He gave Sonny one more pat on the back before walking after where you had stomped off to.

He found you right before you hit the front door, his hand catching yours before it could grab the handle. You turned and scoffed at him, your scowl still present after stomping off.

“Oh, come to appease me, counselor? How can I be of service to you?” You snapped.

“Please, Y/N,” He gave you apologetic eyes as he pulled you closer to him. “I’m sorry, I just-- I didn’t want Carisi to think anything was off. He already caught us being handsy, I had to make it look like we disliked each other,” He explained.

“Oh I think you’ve done that above and beyond, jackass,” You huffed. “First I’m too stupid to not get robbed in the city, and then I’m too uncultured to understand ‘high society’ manipulative bullshit?”

“I’m sorry, I may have gone a little over--” He started.

“But that wasn’t even an act, was it?” You interjected angrily.

“What do you mean?” He asked you curiously.

“Your line of you having ‘use’ of a person? I assume that is why you have a room full of powerful people you dislike as opposed to a room full of sycophants?” Yeah, you might just go to community college but you knew big words too.

“I mean, that is how it works--”

“Jesus Christ,” You shook your head with a laugh. “You know I understood for about half a second why my cousin is so infatuated by you, but I am losing that belief real quick,” You turned and started to walk away again.

“Y/N come on,” He grabbed both of your arms this time and pulled you close into him, your noses almost touching.

“Look I’m-- I’m sorry, that I’m---this,” He gestured to himself.

“But that’s just how I have to be in their world,” He gestured back towards the room. “I’m telling you, it’s a room full of sharks. If I show weakness or misstep in decorum, I’m nothing but chum to those people,”

“The guy you met the other night, that’s the real me,” He put a hand to your cheek. “I never get to be that guy, not in public. That’s why I was so attracted to you,” He put his other hand on your waist.

“I don’t have to be ‘Rafael Barba, the snarky ADA with a silver tongue,’ I can just be…’Rafa’,” He gave you an earnestly sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” You blinked in confusion. “I know I’m not helping myself but what exactly is the ‘ADA’?”

Your question brought that familiar amused grin and a laugh. “See, this is what I’m talking about,”

“Oh yeah I know, the ignorant girl you can placate--”

“No,” He put a finger on your lips. “The earnest, normal, gorgeous girl,” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sure if we took a poll in here right now the majority of the room would be with you, not knowing what an ADA is,”

“Which still doesn’t answer the question,” You pointed out.

“I…” He tried to think of a way to explain his role in the Manhattan judicial system. “Well, the DA of the county is like-- the King of Lawyers in that section. Or queen, as my boss is Rita,” He shook his head with a laugh. Oh Rita Calhoun, the stories he could tell about her.

“So, you’re her king?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, I’d say Prince but she’d probably say Jester if she heard this metaphor to be honest with you,”

“Mmm I like that,” You finally let yourself smile at him.

“A Prince?” He grinned.

“The Jester,” You gave him a tongued smile, settling against his chest.

“Well, I’ll gladly take that title if it makes you happy,” He kissed your forehead. “I’d do anything to make you happy right now,”

You looked into his green eyes, they were now their usual sparkling green hue, and you remembered very quickly how you had gotten yourself in this mess in the first place. He really was a sweet, charming, gorgeous guy. And then you remembered those were probably all the reasons Sonny fell for him too.

“Ahem.” You straightened up and stepped out of his grasp. “Well, what would make me happy right now is getting back to my cousin,”

“Oh,” Rafael’s eyes softened into a sad gaze.

“Rafael, I think he really likes you,” You bit your lip with guilt. “And you toying with him just now isn’t helping!”

“Toying with him?” Rafael’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion? “I wasn’t toying with--”

“Sit by me, Carisi? You’re important to me, Carisi?” You imitated his questions in a mocking tone.

“I had to ask him that so you would--” He started to explain, but you already knew.

“I know!” You stopped him. “I know, that’s why it’s so fucked!” You put your hands over your face.

“Carino…” Rafael walked over and pulled your hands from your face and held them.

“I’m hurting him every second that I stand here with you, and I--” You bit your lip trying not to cry. “I’m still doing it! I can’t walk away!”

“So don’t,” He squeezed your hands with an even sadder look.

“This is just--” You broke free from his grasp once again and wiped your eyelids. “We need to get back before Sonny comes after you,”

“....So where does this conversation leave us, then?” He asked you cautiously.

“I don’t…” You gazed into his puppy dog emerald eyes. “I don’t know, I don’t want to think about it right now, okay?”

“Fair enough,” He put his hands down in concession. “...But we really need to--”

“Yeah, I know,” You nodded softly as you walked back to the private room, Rafael trailing behind you.

All you could think on the way back was how in God’s name were you going to make it through the rest of the night.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba imagine'#sonny carisi #law and order svu #weird secret friends

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ssahotchhner · 3 years

Text

hunter, hunted

i should not be so excited about this but i just discovered that when you copy and paste text into a new post tumblr FINALLY allows italics and bolded fonts to be transferred over so I don't have to remember to go through it and do it myself again i could literally CRY rn. ANYWAY I thought it would be fun to write a oneshot like the Profiler, Profiled where Morgan is accused of murder. i created an oc for this one and I hope you love April I've spent a lot of time with her the last couple of weeks (:

words: 13.4k

pairing: hotch x oc

warnings: detailed descriptions of murder and torture and sexual assault

questions comments concerns

“Where’s the weapon, April?”

It was almost laughable. A federal agent handcuffed in an interrogation room being questioned for murder in her small town while visiting a childhood friend. She shakes her head at the detective, laughing. “I carry a gun on me at all times because, as I said, I’m a federal agent. You have it in your possession already. If you want to test it to see if I’ve fired it recently, be my guest. You won’t find anything.”

“You’re right, we won’t find anything because Brandon Perry died from blunt force trauma to the head. So I’ll ask you again, where is the weapon?”

This time, April does laugh. Of course he wasn’t shot. That would be too easy. “You know what, Detective Barnes, if you hadn’t kicked my hotel door down in the middle of the night, handcuffed me and dragged me in here, I may have cooperated with the investigation, but here we are. So I’ll tell you again: my Unit Chief is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I won’t be answering any more questions until I can speak with him.”

The middle aged man glares at her until finally getting up and leaving her alone in the interrogation room. She rested her head on the table and hoped that maybe that stupid motherfucker would listen to her this time.

***

“Hunter has been detained in Bar Harbor, Maine.” Hotch tells the team in the conference room.

JJ frowns, “Isn’t that her hometown? Why has she been arrested?”

“For murder.” Hotch says. Before the team can react, he pulls up a picture of Brandon Perry’s body, “Brandon Perry was found yesterday by a fisherman just off the docks a week after he was released from prison on parole. He had been bludgeoned to death with some sort of blunt object, the M.E. suggests a baseball bat.”

“And why do they think April did this?” Spencer asks.

Hotch clicks a button and a picture of a couple brutally murdered in their bed, a little boy who’s throat had been slashed, and a little girl with brown hair and bright green eyes, alive and well filled the screen, “Because he was serving time for the murders of Addison, Jacob, and Timothy Hunter. April’s family.”

Everyone stares at the monitor in shock, “Her whole family was murdered when she was a kid… and she never mentioned it to us?” Penelope asks, her lower lip trembling.

“April was left relatively unharmed, but she had been sexually assaulted by the assailant. She said he was tall, but he had on a ski mask so she was never able to give solid identification.” Hotch finishes.

“So how’d they connect these murders to Brandon Perry?” Rossi asks.

“He was connected to a couple other home invasions and assaults nearby so he entered a plea deal. The local police were under a lot of pressure to close the case.”

“Breaking into homes to murdering almost an entire family is a big escalation.” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “I thought so too.”

“April was just a kid,” Prentiss says, “And to go through a trauma like that, I’m sure she believed whatever the police fed her. And to see him be released from prison like that… I hate to say it, but it could have been the trigger.”

Penelope’s shaking her head, “No, no, you guys don’t really think April did this, do you?”

Everyone’s silent for a moment and then Morgan speaks, “Baby girl, if she’s innocent, we’ll prove it. But we can’t rule out the possibility that she did this just yet.”

“I know April hasn’t been here that long,” Garcia says, “But she is still a part of this family. You can all treat her like an unsub, but I won’t.” She finishes and marches out of the conference room.

Aaron sighs, “Wheels up in thirty.” He says resolutely before leaving the room.

***

Hotch walked into the police station, the team at his back and was greeted by a man about April’s age who introduced himself as Detective Fielder. “Detective, I’d like to speak to my agent.” Hotch demanded after shaking the man’s hand.

The man shrugged, “Sorry, sir. My partner’s in there with her. She’s stubborn as hell. I went to school with her, you know it’s a shame the way her family died but… must’ve knocked a screw loose or somethin’. She ain’t ever been the same.”

Aaron thought it over, killers had made their way into the bureau before. Not like this, though. Not under the nose of his whole team. April kept to herself, but she had joined this team less than a year ago, it would be overwhelming for anyone. “You misunderstand, detective. It wasn’t a request. Bring me to my agent.”

Reluctantly, the younger detective brought Hotch to the back of the station where he could already hear another man, older by the sounds of it, screaming at April.

She was staring back at him, her posture relaxed, looking more annoyed than anything. Hotch walked in and she relaxed further, only then letting on that she had been putting on a show of being unbothered for the detective, “Thank God.” April sighs, “I thought maybe they didn’t call you.”

“Are you alright?” He asks her first, unable to explain why hearing another man scream at you had made his blood boil.

“I’m fine,” She says and directs her attention back to the older detective, “Detective Barnes won’t even get me a water, though.”

“Detective Fielder, get April some water.” Hotch demands. He can feel the two men exchange a look behind him before the younger detective leaves the room. “Detective Barnes, uncuff my agent.”

“You can’t let her go, you don’t have jurisdiction here.” He growls.

“I’m not suggesting you let her go, but even if you’re right she committed a one off crime of revenge. She’s not a threat to anyone here. Uncuff her.” The detective glared at April who only smirked at him. “Now, detective.” Aaron said, firmer this time.

With a look of disgust on his face, the detective uncuffed a smiling April as detective Fielder came back in the room with a cup of water. “Thank you, Billy.” April said as the detective placed the cup in front of her. He ignored her completely.

“I’d like to speak to her alone.”

“Like Hell.” Detective Barnes spat.

“With all due respect, detective, it doesn’t appear that you’ve gotten much out of her. You’re welcome to watch through the window, but I will be questioning her. Clear the room.” They stared at each other for another few moments before the detectives both left the room. Hotch turned back to April whose entire demeanor changed. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and slouching over the table as she rubbed at her wrists where the cuffs had been. The antagonizing behavior Hotch had just witnessed her exhibit completely vanished.

“You don’t help when you antagonize them like that.” Hotch says.

She shrugs, “The men in this town don’t like a woman who thinks she’s his equal. They never liked my attitude. They like it even less now that I outrank them. Either I act like the superior I am, even in cuffs, or they force me into submission.”

He sits down at the table across from her, “Why didn’t you tell me about your family? It wasn’t in your file.”

“Strauss knew.” April says, immediately defensive. She hadn’t lied, the bureau knew.

“But you didn’t want me or the team knowing, why?” She doesn’t answer him, just stares at her hands. “April, I can’t help you if I don’t know.” He says gently.

Finally she looks up and sighs, “When I was twelve my entire family was brutalized and murdered in front of me, but not before the unsub raped me in front of my parents. And I didn’t react the way the people of this town wanted me to. I was twelve and I was covered in semen when he left. So I showered before calling 911. I didn’t cry even once in front of anyone and I never spoke about what happened to anyone, not even the police. Only enough to tell them that I had no idea what he looked like, but I thought he was white.” Her eyes water just slightly and she doesn’t meet his eyes, “For the six years after the murders that I stayed in this town, I know a lot of people thought I did it. That I was some kind of psychopath. So no, I didn’t want it in my file.”

“You thought maybe we’d arrive at the same decision the town did.” Hotch opens the case file, “But you were never tried or even considered a real suspect. There was no physical evidence.”

She smiles sadly, “No physical evidence means nothing to a small town who’s rarely ever seen a scandal, and certainly nothing like this.”

He stares at her for a moment, “And so when Brandon Perry was released from jail, you thought he hadn’t suffered nearly enough so you came back up here and killed him.” April laughs and Hotch can see he’s made her feel antagonistic again, “This isn’t funny, April, you’re a suspect in a homicide.”

“No, Hotch, you don’t understand. It’s funny because I don’t even believe Brandon Perry killed my family and I haven’t believed that for a long long time. Which is why it would make no goddamn sense for me to kill him.”

“That’s bullshit!” The door bursts open and detective Barnes walks in.

“Detective--” Hotch stands as if to shield her and April nearly frowns at how protective he seems to be of her right now. She had seen him this way around the rest of the team, but never her.

“You told Detective Fielder when you were fifteen that you would kill that son of bitch yourself if he ever got out of jail.”

Hotch looks at April with a bit of annoyance, he hated when others had more information than him and from the second he walked in here she kept hiding things from him, not telling him the whole truth.

She lazily rolls her eyes and stares at Billy, “I was fifteen. I was angry. He cooperated with the police so he had the opportunity to get parole after fifteen years? Get his life back after I thought he had ruined mine? Yeah, I said some stupid shit, I think any kid would have.”

“When did you start to doubt that Brandon Perry had killed your family?” Hotch asks, but she’s still shooting daggers at the other detectives, “Agent, eyes here.” He says roughly, growing impatient with her.

Her eyes snap to his, “I used to lurk on support pages for people whose loved ones had been murdered and I remember seeing that this girl described… Almost exactly what had happened to my family, but she said it happened while Brandon was on trial here. She lived a couple towns over.”

“So what did you do?”

She shrugs, “Nothing, I was seventeen, I didn’t have any resources there was nothing I could do.”

Hotch sits down across from her again, leaning over the table so he’s closer to her, “You really expect me to believe, with the conviction you just said Brandon is innocent, that you didn’t look into this further?” She stays quiet and won’t meet his eyes, “I can have Garcia search your desk and computer if you’d rather do this that way.”

She leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not a fucking criminal.”

“Then tell me what you know.” Hotch says, voice raised.

“Fine! I started volunteering at the police station so I could get access to files. I was good with the digital databases, but no one else was so they basically gave me free reign. I was able to find three similar cases, all within a couple years of each other but in different cities. One of them, he crossed into New Hampshire. All of the local police departments either arrested someone like Brandon or dismissed it as a one off crime and let it go cold. The files are in my desk drawer at the BAU.”

“You carried them with you all this time?”

She picks at the cuticles around her thumb, something Hotch noticed weeks ago she does when she’s nervous. “I thought… I thought about asking you guys to just look at the case a million times. See if you saw what I saw. And if you didn’t then maybe I could finally move on.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

Her eyes dart around the room, to the detectives, the one way window, and then back to Hotch, “You guys, the team, you all have… This unbreakable bond and I… I barely just got here and I thought if I’d asked…” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, “I just… I didn’t think you’d care.”

“The whole team flew out here at the drop of hat for you and you think we wouldn’t care?”

She frowns, “The whole team is here?”

“Yes.”

April sits back in her chair, looking dazed.

“Detectives, you’ll be releasing Agent Hunter from your custody now and since we have reason to believe there’s a serial killer loose and across state lines, we’ll be staying on the case.”

“You don’t really believe anything she’s saying, do you? She’s a psychopath!” Detective Barnes fumed.

Hotch stands and steps to the detective who immediately takes a step back after noticing Hotch’s menacing stance, “She is a federal agent and is no longer a suspect, you have no physical evidence and you just lost motive. You will speak to her with respect and if you don’t think you can handle that I’ll contact your superintendent and have you removed from the case. Is that clear?”

The detective stood back and out of their way, April looking at the ground so Hotch wouldn’t have to yell at her for antagonizing them again.

“What’s the history with you and Billy?” Hotch asks as they walk out of the room.

April rolls her eyes, “He was my high school boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Hotch muses, “You can do better.”

Before she can figure out if he was joking or not, the team realizes she’s walking of her own free will and they seem to all release the tension in their bodies. JJ walks to April first, pulling her into a hug before she can react.

April slowly raises her arms to hug JJ back, “I wish you had told us sooner.” Is all she says.

“I’m sorry you guys came all the way out here.” April addresses the team when JJ moves away from her.

“That’s okay, Hunter, we’re just glad to see you aren’t a murderer.” Morgan teases.

“We might actually be staying here for a while after all.” Hotch says.

Prentiss frowns, “Is there a case here?”

April opens and closes her mouth, “I-- Maybe.”

“Why don’t you call Garcia, ask her to get those files to everyone.” Hotch says to her quietly.

April nods and walks off.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Rossi asks.

Hotch pushes his hands in his pockets, “The reason we were able to clear Hunter is because she has no motive. She doesn’t believe Brandon Perry killed her family and she hasn’t since she was a teenager.” He pauses, “She thinks the murders may be the work of a serial killer. She found three additional cases nearby, one crosses over to New Hampshire, that she believes are the work of the same unsub.”

Prentiss slowly nods, “And you want us to see if that’s true or not.”

Hotch nods, “I’m sure April would really appreciate our support.”

Everyone on the team is already nodding when April comes back, “So, as Penelope might say… Avengers assemble?” She asks hopefully.

Thankfully, they all laugh and nod, even Hotch cracks a smile, “Great.” April sighs in relief, “Let’s go to the conference room.”

With Garcia on a laptop screen, April tells them everything she knows, which admittedly, isn’t much. However, there are overwhelming similarities between the cases.

“Every family he chose was wife, husband, two kids. The eldest was the daughter all between the ages of 11-13 and in each case the daughter was raped and kept alive.” April was speaking as if she wasn’t speaking about herself and Hotch would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him. “In each case the parents were brutally tortured with a knife, forced to watch the rape and then killed with a fatal gunshot to the head. The boy was always killed first and it was always quick.”

“A mercy kill?” Reid muses.

April sighs, “I’ve never been able to figure that part out. It’s obvious he gets off on the rape and torture of the parents and daughter, but why not leave the boy alive the way he always leaves the daughter if it’s out of mercy?”

“It could be he thinks he’s sparing the boy the pain and trauma of having to go through the after effects of watching his parents and sister tortured.” Prentiss says.

“When all is said and done the daughter suffers the most psychologically.” Hotch says, “She could be the real target, maybe a surrogate for someone he knew.”

At this point, Hotch notices the way April is staring at the table, eyes unfocused, “Hunter,” Her eyes shoot up, “You must be exhausted, let me drive you back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”

“Hotch, I’m fine, I want to help.”

“No,” He says and she frowns, “If the daughter is the true target we’re going to have to dive deeper into victimology. Why he chose you. You don’t want to be here for that.”

Everyone’s quiet and deliberately looks away from April. She sighs, “Fine, but I’m coming back first thing in the morning.” She stands and walks out of the conference room without waiting for Hotch.

“Garcia, see what you can find about April’s childhood as well as the other victims and let us know if there’s any similarities.” Hotch says.

“It feels icky, but I’ll do it.” Garcia responds.

“I’ll be back.” Hotch addresses the rest of the team before heading after April.

They ride in silence for a few minutes, Hotch glancing over to the passenger seat every few seconds. “Whatever you want to say just say it.” April says, growing tired of the constant glances.

“You don’t have to keep working on this case like it’s any other case--”

“It’s not just any other case.”

“I know,” He says gently, “I’m worried about you. I know you bottle things up, showing emotion to other people makes you feel vulnerable, which in turn makes you feel weak. And I worry that the way you’re bottling up your rage is going to lead to you taking it out on--”

“I didn’t kill Brandon.” She says.

“I know you didn’t. But if we do find the real killer, I can’t let you come with us into the field until he’s been taken into custody.”

“Hotch--”

“It’s not up for discussion. I’m sorry.”

She sat back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest and they continue on in silence for a while longer. “Do you think our unsub is also responsible for Brandon’s death?” Hotch felt guilty about upsetting her and thought maybe getting her brain back into work mode would stop her from giving him the silent treatment.

For a few moments he thinks she might continue to ignore him, but finally, she sighs, “It’s possible. If we think he gets off on the suffering of the daughters, he might be upset that I thought he had been caught. That I felt safe knowing he was behind bars. Killing Brandon after he was released could have been a message to me that he’s still out there and obviously following me.”

“You don’t feel safe anymore.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It was implied.” Hotch pauses, “I can stay at the hotel with you, work with the team remotely from the room next to yours.”

He expects her to refuse, but instead she agrees. “Okay.” She says quietly. This only worries him more as she is typically unlikely to accept help unless he insists upon it.

They walk up to the hotel room in silence and Hotch stands behind her as she unlocks her door, “Hey,” He says softly and she turns, “Anything you need, anything at all, I’ll be right there.” He nods his head to the door next to them.

“Thank you.” She says, giving him a small smile before pushing the hotel door open and then quickly closing it behind her.

He stands there for a moment, staring at the space she was just standing in before sighing and going to his own room.

“How is she doing?” Rossi asks when he calls the team from his room to let them know he’ll be staying there.

“She won’t admit it, but she’s scared. She thinks he might be following her and that Brandon Perry was a message to her that he’s still out there.”

“That would make sense if we think the girls are the real targets.” Prentiss chimes in.

Hotch stays on the phone with them a little while longer before they all decide to head back to the hotel. He stares at the wall that separates him from April and tries to get his mind to quiet enough to rest. He’s right here. Nothing will hurt her if he’s right here. He thought about how just last week Rossi had teased him for catching him staring at April. He had nearly convinced Aaron to ask her out. But she was so distant and hard to read and he didn’t want to chance rejection. Eventually, he closes his eyes and drifts off, an image of you smiling at him on the backs of his eyelids.

***

April was exhausted, but she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Small noises that she never thought twice about now startled her. Hotch is next door. She reminded herself. She thought about the comment he made about Billy: You could do better. Had he been… Flirting? Aaron Hotchner… Flirting? It felt absurd. Shaking the thought out of her head, she got up and poured herself some water from the Brita in the mini fridge. Finally, after drinking the water, she’s able to fall asleep.

The breeze against her face wakes her. Slowly blinking her eyes into consciousness, she notices the balcony doors are open. Those were closed when I fell asleep, She thinks to herself and shoots up in bed, scrambling for her gun as her heart races. April considers yelling to Hotch, but if he’s still here she doesn’t want to scare him off.

On the wall at the foot of her bed reads “Welcome Home” in what looks like blood. Under it sits her favorite childhood teddy bear, head ripped clean off. She tightens her grip on the gun in order to stop the shaking and then glances around the room, but there’s nothing. Then she slowly opens the bathroom door. Pointing her gun at the shower, the curtain moves. She doesn’t hesitate she fires off four rounds, breathing hard. She doesn’t hear a body fall. Reaching out she pushes the curtain, but no one’s there.

Seconds later, Hotch is calling her name, but he doesn’t wait for a response before kicking down the door. “Hunter?” He calls again and she thinks she might hear fear in his voice. Fear for her?

“I’m in the bathroom. You can put down your gun, it’s clear.” He appears behind her a moment later, still staring at the shower, “I thought he was still in here.”

She walks around him and back out to where he left the message, “He came in through the balcony, I— I thought I locked it…” She trails off, looking at the glass of water on the table and realizing she can’t remember when she fell asleep.

“What is it?” Hotch asks.

“He was in here before. I think he drugged my water.”

He narrows his eyes at her, “We should go to the hospital then, I’ll have the team come here and treat this as a crime scene.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m fine—“

“We don’t know what he gave you or how much, besides, having you tested will tell us what he used faster than sending a sample of the water to Quantico.”

“Fine.” She agrees begrudgingly, he was right. She walks over to her bag of clothes and it’s only at this moment that she realizes she had worn only an oversized t-shirt to bed and Hotch was making a valiant effort not to stare at her legs.

“I’ll, um, I have to get dressed as well.” He says hurriedly, gesturing to the pajama pants he’s wearing. He leaves before she can say anything else. Under normal circumstances, April’s sure this would have made her laugh, but that teddy bear seems to be staring her down. She gets dressed and leaves the room without another glance.

***

April stares out the window of the SUV in silence while Hotch calls Rossi to fill him in on what happened so the rest of the team can start assessing her hotel room. When he hangs up, she feels his eyes darting between her and the road again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly.

She’s quiet for a moment and then she takes a shaky breath, “That teddy bear went missing from my room a couple weeks before the murders. It was my favorite.” She swipes impatiently at the tears that start falling, “I blamed Timmy for it, we fought about it for hours. He felt so bad that I was mad at him he used his birthday money to buy me another one. I really thought he took it.” She tilts her head back in the headrest, trying desperately to stop the impending sobs.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but he reaches across the car to hold her hand. To her own surprise, she lets him, the calluses on his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of her hand.

***

“What do you have, Garcia?” Hotch steps out of your examination room for a moment to accept the call.

“How is she?” Penelope asks first.

“She’s… shaken up. But, like everyone else on this team does an excellent job of seeming unaffected.”

She sighs, “My poor wonder woman. Anyway, I think I found the connection between all the daughters.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it turns out that our April was a very talented child. Her parents took her to talent shows regularly, she was voted ‘Most Likely To Make It To Hollywood’ in her middle school yearbook.”

Hotch frowns and looks back at April, “We’re talking about the same federal agent, right?”

“I know, sir, not much surprises me anymore, but this did. There’s videos of her singing all over the internet, she was on the local news, quite the young star.”

“And the other victims?”

“All singers, sir. Every last one.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

He walks back into April’s room, “You used to be a singer.” He says.

She rolls her eyes, “So?”

“So all the other daughters were singers too.” She sets her jaw and won’t meet his eyes. She’s not surprised by this information. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You didn’t think it was relevant that there was a connection between all of the victims?”

She sighs and she feels shame at his obvious disappointment, “I’m sorry. I’ve worked really hard to block it out, sometimes I honestly forget.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

She bites her lip and looks down at her hands, picking at the cuticles around her thumb again, “He made me sing while… While he raped me.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No. I swear.”

He stares at her for moment and she knows he’s trying to see if she’s lying. It makes her angry at him, but also at herself. Maybe Hotch had never been as fond of her as the others, but he had never distrusted her. Just another thing the unsub had taken from her. “What song did he make you sing?”

The question is so painful to think about that she visibly flinches, “Do you really need to know that?”

“You know I do.” He says softly.

She looks away from him again, back to the cuticle on her thumb that she’s made bleed, “Like A Virgin by Madonna.”

He places his hand over hers again and she finds it almost alarming the way his touch seems to immediately calm her. “April, we won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”

She gives him a teary smile, “Will you stay with me?”

He smiles back at her, giving her a hand a slight squeeze and his smile takes her breath away, “I’ll be glued to your side until this case is over.”

***

A couple hours later they had found out that there was a classic date rape drug in April’s system: Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, or GHB. The drug is usually prescribed for narcolepsy, but it was most often obtained illegally from Mexican pharmacies which they assumed was how the unsub got it.

“I’m bringing you back to the police station so you can stay with me and the team like I promised, but you don’t have to keep working the case.” Hotch says as he drives.

“Funny that you think you can stop me from working the case.”

He smirks a bit and brings his attention back to the road.

“What do you guys have for a profile so far?” He looks over at her, frowning. “What? I know you guys have been working while I’ve been reliving my trauma so what’ve you got?”

“White male, when he murdered your family he was probably in his twenties so now we’re guessing mid thirties to early forties. The torture is consistent with a sadist. Killing an entire family is an incredibly high risk crime which suggests he’s a narcissist, but also very organized. He’s able to control four people at once without much difficulty and he’s never left a shred of physical evidence behind except on the daughters. This means he’s arrogant and--” Hotch cuts himself off.

“What?”

“You said you showered before calling 911. Why?”

“I… I told you he left… He left his semen all over me, I was just a kid, I wanted a shower--”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. Yes, you were traumatized, but every kid has it hardwired in their brain that as soon as something bad happens the first thing they do is call 911.”

“Okay, well I didn’t.”

He presses some buttons on the console of the car and then Garcia’s voice is coming through the speaker, “At your service, sir.”

“Garcia, in any of the family murders, was there a rape kit done on any of the daughters?”

“Well, surely there must have been-- Oh. No, no rape kits, not on any of them.”

“Does a police report tell you why?”

“I’m checking… and…” There’s a sigh from Penelope.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“All of them showered before calling 911.”

April is already shaking her head, “No, no that can’t be right.”

“Did any of them report why they showered before calling for help?”

“Most of them, like April, just reported that they felt icky and needed to shower, but the first one, the very first victim Katie Yates, she reported that the unsub made her shower. Like, held her at gunpoint, marched her to the bathroom, and watched. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was, he left while she was still in the shower.”

“That’s not what happened,” April says quietly, her eyes closed.

“Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch says and hangs up the phone before she can respond, “April--”

“No.” She says fiercely, “I’m telling you that’s not what happened.”

“Every other aspect of the crime is controlled and calculated, he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving DNA all over his victims--”

“I would remember that if he did--”

“No,” Hotch says gently. He had pulled into the police station now, putting the car in park, “No, because you didn’t want to remember. Just that one memory, that one you wanted so badly to believe was your own. That he wasn’t there for the shower. But he was, wasn’t he?”

“Please stop.” She said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere and he puts his hand over hers, “Look at me.” She doesn’t obey immediately so he reaches up to grip her chin and gently turn her face to his. Her eyes are shining and her breathing is uneven, but his eyes are soft and she has the absurd urge to rest her forehead against his. “He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

She nods and swallows. “I need you to walk me through exactly what happened after the rape.” He continues. Her lip trembles, but she nods again. “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Hotch--” She whimpers.

“I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time. You know how this goes. Close your eyes.” She takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “Good. He’s on top of you still. He’s just finished. Tell me what you feel, what you hear.”

“Um. I’m crying. I can hear my parents crying. His weight on me is making it hard to breathe.” She starts panicking, her breathing quickens.

“April, focus. He’s not here. You’re safe. What about your hands, what are you touching?”

“The carpet. I’m on the floor in the basement.”

“Can you see your parents?”

“Yes,” She gulps, “But I’m trying not to look at them. It’s humiliating.”

“Okay. Now what is he doing?”

“He… He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear ‘Thank you for the show’ and then he stands up.” Her breathing quickens, “He’s walking to my parents, I don’t want to watch, he’s going to kill them, Hotch--!”

“Okay, okay, come back. Open your eyes. I’m here.” His hands come up to cradle her face. She should be startled by her boss touching her like this, but she’s oddly comforted.

Her breathing finally slows, “I’m tired.” She says softly.

“I know. We’re almost done. Close your eyes again, you can do this.” His hands stay on her face as she closes her eyes again, “Okay. Your parents are dead. What does he do now?”

“Uh, I’m screaming. He’s looking at me and laughing and then he grabs my arm and pulls me up from the floor. I struggle and he puts the gun to my head and says if I don’t calm down he’ll blow out my brains like he did my parents. And then… He walks me up the stairs to the bathroom…” Her breathing becomes rapid again, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes you can.” Hotch’s voice is low and soothing. He believes in you, she thinks to herself, if he thinks you can do this, you can.

“He turns on the shower. I’m already naked and once I’m in the shower he starts undressing.” Silent tears stream down her cheeks and she’s distantly aware of Hotch gently wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. “He comes in the shower. He’s touching me. I’m begging him to stop. Oh, God.”

“April, stay there. He’s undressed, he’s taken the mask off, do you recognize him?”

She’s shaking her head, “I can’t… I can’t look.”

“The water’s hitting your skin, his hands are on you--”

“Stop.”

“Look up, April.”

Despite herself, she listens. She’s in that shower, significantly smaller than she is now, and she looks up to see blue eyes looking down at her. Shaggy brown hair nearly covers them, especially now that it’s wet. He has a smirk on his face and crooked front teeth. There’s a tattoo on his right arm of a cross.

“Okay, okay that’s enough, you did it.” Hotch’s voice pulls her back out and she becomes aware of the car that’s still around them and the fact that she’s sobbing. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You did so good.” She falls forward in his arms and after a moment of hesitation he wraps his arms around her, holding her until her breathing settles. It takes him a moment to realize that anyone could look in the SUV and find him in a seemingly compromising position with his subordinate and he pulls away. To his shock, she seems to look disappointed. “You ready to go inside?”

“Yeah.” She says and without another word, she gets out of the car. Hotch can’t deny that he feels like he’s done something wrong as he watches April walk into the station.

When April walks in the station, her whole team cranes their heads to watch her, but she heads straight for the coffee without looking at anyone. Hotch files in soon after.

“Is she okay?” Reid asks, the rest of the team waits for his answer.

“I just gave her a cognitive interview, I’m sure she’s upset.”

“Did you learn anything?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” Hotch nods, “She remembers what he looks like and she identified a tattoo on his right arm.”

“We should have Garcia run that, see if we can get an ID.” Morgan says.

“Call a sketch artist as well.” Hotch looks up at where April was standing just a few moments ago to see her gone, “Excuse me.”

***

April’s hands shake so hard as she tries to pour the coffee she ends up putting it down in frustration. “Need some help?” She turns to see Billy, standing there smirking at her.

Sighing, she stands back and gestures for him to go ahead. He steps in to pour the coffee, “Pretty elaborate ruse you got going on, staging a break in at your hotel room with that teddy bear.”

She stares at him in disbelief, “You still think I did this?”

“I think,” He says, handing her a cup of coffee, “That you’re impulsive and you went to confront Brandon and you didn’t mean to kill him, but you did and now this is all to cover everything up.”

“Oh,” She scoffs and starts walking away from him, “You are delusional and a dick.”

He follows April into another room and closes the door behind them, “Open the door.” She says when she realizes she’s shut in.

“You and your stupid FBI team are making this whole police force look bad, you need to drop the investigation.”

“The cases cross state lines, we have jurisdiction.”

“Yeah, you would have jurisdiction if there was a real case, but there isn’t. You’re a pathological liar and you can’t even see it. Brandon Perry murdered your family and raped you and just can’t let it go.”

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” She walks around him to the door, but he turns quickly and places his palm against the door, slamming it shut again. “Let me out.” She says slowly.

“I’ll let you out when you promise me that you’re going to march out there and tell them that you’ve been lying this whole time and then march your pretty ass back to D.C.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll arrest you for the murder of Brandon Perry.”

“You have no evidence.”

“Oh, April, April, April. I know you know what a coerced confession is here. And I also know that you know a jury of your peers here in Maine would send you to prison for less.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door and Billy finally steps away. When she opens it, Hotch is on the other side, “Everything okay in here?”

“Just fine, Agent Hotchner. Isn’t that right April?” Billy says and grabs a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger and tugging, exactly like he used to when he sat behind her in middle school.

April slaps her hand on his wrist and twists his arm around until he yells. “You lay a hand on me or threaten me again, I will make sure you don’t have a career here anymore. Understood?”

“You can’t--” He starts, but she twists his arm further.

“Am I clear?” She says again.

“Alright, fine!”

She shoves him away and he stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as April storms out, Hotch still standing in the doorway, watching Billy.

“I told you,” Billy says, pushing himself to standing, “She’s a crazy bitch.”

“Detective, let me make myself very clear. If you continue to harass my agent or impede on this investigation in any way, not only will I make sure you never have a career in law enforcement again, I will arrest you for obstructing a federal investigation.”

Billy shakes his head, “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger.”

“And I think your boss has you wrapped around his finger. He’s the one who arrested Brandon Perry. Seems like he would have a lot more to lose if he was wrong than you would.”

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“Then let us conduct the investigation. If it leads back to Brandon Perry, then so be it.”

“You really think she’d accept that?”

“If the evidence led us there, she would. Now stay out of our investigation if you value your job.” Hotch leaves without giving him time to respond and then tries to find April.

“Are you alright?” He asks when he finds her. She’s sitting alone at a conference table.

“I’m fine, Billy’s just an asshole.”

“There’s more to your relationship than you told me to begin with.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“You said you came up here to visit a friend. Who were you visiting?”

“I’m tired of being interrogated--”

“The reason Billy is so sure you killed Brandon Perry is because you were with him that night and then you left suddenly, isn’t it?”

April sighs and looks down at the table, “Hotch, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help, but who I was with and what I was doing that night doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Brandon so please just drop it.”

He shakes his head and he looks almost frustrated with April, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he care so much about her relationship with Billy? “I don’t understand why you would waste your time on a cop like that, look at what a mess it put you in.”

She frowns, “With all due respect, sir, it’s really not your business who I’m sleeping with.”

“Why did you leave that night if you didn’t kill Brandon?”

She scoffs, “I can’t believe this.”

“Answer the question.”

She was angry with him. Practically bursting at the seams with rage. Just like every other man, thinking he’s entitled to everything about her. They all disappointed her in the end. “Billy and I had a fight and I wanted to be alone.”

“What was the fight about?”

“He wanted to be an official couple again. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

She tilts her head to the side, “Just because I’m a good fuck doesn’t mean he gets to claim me. Like you said, he’s just a stupid cop and I could do better. Now will you leave me alone?”

April recognized that look in his eyes: He was jealous. Aaron Hotchner was jealous that she had a sexual relationship with another man. And suddenly her anger evaporated and was replaced by desire. She supposed she did always have a thing for older men which she was sure a profiler would say had to do with her dead dad. Either way, she sent a smoldering glare his way until he left her alone.

When he left, she rested her head on the table in exhaustion and didn’t notice Emily had approached until she heard the seat in front of her being pulled out. She raises her head and manages a smile, “Hi.”

“How are you doing?” She asks.

“Better now that you’re here, I’m tired of all the men around here.”

She laughs, “Good. Well, the sketch artist is here and I’m sad to report that he is a man.” April groans. “But, I will stay with you if you want and then I think we’re all going to work through the night, but Hotch was talking about bringing you back to the hotel to get some rest. It sounds like you had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Cognitive interviews are the worst.”

As promised, Emily sits with her while she talks to the sketch artist and Hotch walks over not long after. When it’s finished, Emily gives your hand a squeeze and leaves with the sketch to pin to the evidence board.

“You should get some rest, I’ll take you back to the hotel now.” Hotch says, hands in his pockets. It was intriguing to her that he could act like he didn’t just ask about her sex life only an hour ago.

“I can’t sleep in that room again.”

“You can sleep in mine. I’ll sleep on the floor,” He adds quickly upon seeing the look on her face.

She sighs, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, just don’t touch me.”

“Won’t be a problem.” And with the indifference in his tone, she thought maybe she had actually imagined everything earlier.

“Great.” She murmurs and gets up to walk out first.

Hotch stays behind for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and Rossi comes up behind him, “You picked a terrible time to start giving her hints about the way you feel, Aaron.”

“We’re trying to solve a case about her family’s murder and all I can think about is how pissed off it makes me to know that she’s been sleeping with someone else.”

“You’re human.”

Hotch just shakes his head and walks away.

***

“Daddy driving you home?”

The voice behind April makes her jump, her hand flying automatically to her gun.

“Woah, it’s just me April.” Billy laughs, leaning up against the station building, “You really are on edge, lately, huh? A sign of guilt or genuine fear?”

She could strangle him right here, she thinks. But instead, she reigns in her temper and leans against the wall next to him, “What about your daddy, huh? Haven’t seen him here all day. Is he too busy making wrongful arrests?”

Billy scoffs, “Yeah, and how’s your stupid little profile going? Did you find the real killer yet?”

She sighs, “You cops are all the same, think your old fashioned police work is better than profiling.”

Billy looks like he’s about to respond, but Hotch walks through the door just then, “There’s daddy, you better hurry up and get in the car like a good girl.”

Hotch barely registers what Billy’s said before April launches herself at him, fists flying. He immediately reacts, grabbing her arms, “Hunter, hey, hey! That’s enough! Get in the car.” He says sternly.

She shakes him off, but walks to the car all the same.

“Fucking bitch.” Billy mutters, drawing Hotch’s attention back to him.

“Detective, I thought I made myself clear that you were to stay away from my agent and out of my case.”

Billy steps up, eye to eye with Hotch, “This is my station, agent. Back off.”

Hotch stares him down for a few more moments, “The superintendent will be hearing from me tomorrow, at the very least you’ll be getting suspended. Maybe now’s a good time for you to clean out your desk.” And then he turns and walks back to the SUV, ignoring Billy’s curses behind him.

Once Hotch is in the SUV and starts driving away, he starts talking to April, “When you’re out in the field you represent me, you represent the team, and the whole bureau. You can’t just--”

“I don’t need a lecture right now.”

He’s surprised to hear tears in her voice and it softens him immediately, “April, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

“You’ve only done what you need to do to solve the case, you shouldn’t apologize.”

“No, no, I… I shouldn’t have questioned you about Billy earlier. You were right, it’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” She says. First indifference, now an apology. Maybe she really had imagined everything. “I just want to sleep.”

***

Hotch works for a while by the light of the lamp when you get into bed, poring over the case files again and again, trying to figure out if they had missed anything. He’s pretty sure April is actually sleeping and once he’s sure he can’t get any more work done, he turns off the lamp and gets ready for bed.

He slips in the bed as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake her, but there’s the smallest moan that escapes her lips when the mattress shifts. A moment later, she turns over, still in sleep and slings her arm over his chest, sighing contentedly as she rests her head on his chest. Hotch freezes, unsure of how to react before slowly wrapping his arms around her in return. Her shampoo smells like peaches and vanilla and he breathes it in deeply knowing in the morning she’ll pretend this never happened.

***

When April wakes up and finds herself in Hotch’s arms, legs tangled under the sheets, she does her best not to panic. With the way they were positioned, it was clear she had initiated this which was all the more embarrassing. Lucky for her though, she doesn’t have to figure out her next move because his phone rings. She pretends to be asleep as he slowly comes to wakefulness and reaches for his phone.

“Hotchner.” His voice is husky from sleep and it sends a thrill through her and she imagines for a moment what it would be like if Aaron Hotchner was hers. Then she hears Billy’s voice in her head calling him her daddy and the moment sours.

“Okay.” He says after a few moments, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He ends the call and sets the phone back on the nightstand, but to her surprise, he doesn’t immediately wake her. “Are you awake?” He whispers after a few moments and she tries not to balk.

“Mmm.” Is all she manages and she keeps her eyes closed, not sure she can meet his eyes like this.

“They’ve, um… Another family was killed last night.” He tries to say it as gently as possible, but she shoots up in bed anyway, “The daughter was killed as well this time.”

She’s shaking her head, “No… No, that can’t be. She has to… She can’t be dead.”

“It’s probably a message to you.” Hotch says calmly.

She scoffs, “That’s great. A whole family’s dead because of me.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Oh, like hell it isn’t.” She says, climbing out of bed and pulling on her jeans. She doesn’t fully realize who she’s getting dressed in front of until Hotch tries to subtly avert his eyes. “I should’ve solved this case years ago. I’ve known it was serial for a while. I could have saved them.”

“You know as well as I do that thinking like that isn’t helpful for anyone.” He says, following her lead and getting dressed in front of her. The fact that they’re both acting like nothing out of the ordinary has taken place between them makes everything somehow even more intimate.

She sighs, “Let’s just get over there.” And she walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

***

April can feel the bile rising in her throat as her team mills around the crime scene. She’s crouched next to the girl, Layla, whose throat had been slit. She had also been stabbed too many times to be counted by the naked eye. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, but April could see the fear there. He had left her here, in front of her parents’ bodies, naked. “He went through the entire ritual, even the shower, then brought her back down here and killed her.”

“He’s always been very controlled and organized, but this last kill is full of rage.” Prentiss notices.

April frowns as she looks at Layla’s throat and notices that it almost seems to be bulging, “I think there’s something in her throat.” She pulls on her latex gloves while everyone crowds around her and then gently prys the girl’s jaw open. Reaching in, her fingers brush what feels like crumpled paper at the back of her throat and April pulls it out. Heart racing, she smooths it open.

Welcome home, April. I’d like to see the woman I’ve created. Arrive alone at the place where we first met, 20:00.

Everyone was silent as April read the note over and over after reading it aloud the first time. The word “alone” had been underlined several times. There was no threat attached to it, but April knew it was one all the same.

“We’ll have to call SWAT and let them know, we’ll also have to prepare the local police--”

“No.” April cut off Hotch, “You can’t be serious, he said to come alone.”

“April, his end game is clearly to kill you, if you go there by yourself you won’t come back out. And I already told you you’re not allowed to handle the arrest.”

“This is our one shot to get him,” Her eyes water, “This family died because of me--”

“Hunter--”

“Stop.” The tears fall down her cheeks and he wants to brush them away like he had the day before. “I won’t let this happen again, I’m going to see him by myself.”

“At least go in with a wire, we’ll stay a safe distance away.” Morgan bargained.

She shifts her attention to Morgan, to her team who are all looking at her sadly. Concern dripping heavy from their limbs. “No SWAT.” She insists, “Just this team.”

Hotch sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

She wasn’t, but she nods anyway.

“Fine.” Is all he says before walking away.

***

Aaron is conscious of her eyes on him as he helps her put the wire on, “You steer the conversation away from yourself when you’re in there. Don’t let your guard down for a second. He’s going to try to get in your head, blame you for what he’s done. Don’t let him, just feed his ego and then call us when you’ve got him. Okay?”

“Yeah.” She says quietly.

He finishes putting the wire on and leans away from her in the surveillance van, “I can go in with you.” He says, giving it one last shot.

“No.”

He nods resolutely, “Promise me you’ll walk out of there alive.” She avoids meeting his eyes, “April.”

Finally she locks her eyes to his, “I’m scared.” She says, and her voice shakes.

It’s the first time he’s heard her admit it. He’d known she felt it, but she’d never admitted it. “Listen to me.” He says firmly, “You are not the twelve year old girl he knew. You’re stronger than him. You can do this.”

She takes a deep breath and nods, moving around him to exit the van.

“Be careful.” He says one last time and he thinks maybe she’s aware of just how worried he is about her, his eyes full of concern.

She gives him a small smile before turning away and walking down the street, rounding the last block to her childhood home, the house she hadn’t entered again since the murders. The town was small and since everyone knew what had happened there, it had never been sold.

April stands just outside the house for a minute, hand hovering just above her gun, trying to get both hands to stop shaking. Hotch believes in you. She reminds herself, recalling his words in the van. She can do this.

She’d been avoiding thinking about all his touches in the last few days. The way his rough, callused fingers felt so gentle on her face when she cried. The way he’d wrapped his arms around her in sleep, almost protectively. The way when he woke to answer his phone this morning he had absently stroked her shoulder. Did they mean anything to him or was he just an overworked, touch starved man, desperate for any sort of attention, even from her.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she headed for the door, raising her gun as she approached. The door was already slightly ajar and she pushed it lightly with the pads of her fingers. Carefully, she cleared each room, heart ricocheting against her rib cage, though she already knew where he’d be waiting for her.

After they had found the last family, Garcia had been able to ID the killer based on the sketch and the tattoo as Allen Grey. He had the usual tough past, abusive father and mother, grew up in poverty. His parents died when he was still young and his older sister was left to take care of him, and she then continued the cycle of abuse, escalating to sexual assault. It explained the mercy for the young boys and torture of the eldest daughters, but April couldn’t bring herself to feel sympathy for him.

She stood at the top of the basement stairs, could already see the lights on down there and could hear Madonna’s Like a Virgin playing on vinyl. April hated the way her body reacted, the way everything in her was telling her to run. She was a federal agent for Christ’s sake, she took down killers like this one all the time. He was no different, she tried to assure herself, he was just like the rest. And then she steeled herself, brought her gun back up in front of her at eye level, and began descending the stairs.

“There you are! Welcome home, April!” Allen says cheerfully as you point the gun at him, “Now, now, come on, I don’t have a weapon,” He raises his hands, “Why don’t you holster that gun, Agent Hunter.” He had an arrogant smirk on his face.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her finger flexed on and off the trigger, wanting so bad to just pull it and be done with it. But she knew her team was listening and this was exactly why Hotch hadn’t wanted her in the field for this. She lowered her weapon and put it back in her holster.

“That’s better. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the worn out table and chairs, “Let’s have a drink. Talk.”

She swallowed thickly, “No thank you.” She managed.

“No, come on now, April. We have to catch up!”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He smiles at her again and comes closer to her. Slowly, he pulls a knife out of his pocket and brings it up for her to see. She balks, but he quickly grabs her from the back of her neck to keep her steady and runs the knife gently over her face. “You were always so clever, April.” She keeps eye contact with him, doing her best not to show any fear. “So pretty and smart. I only followed you, after, you know? You were… number two, I believe. I chased the high I got with you with everyone after, but none of them were the same.”

“Is that why you stopped for a while after the fourth family?”

He nods, “Like I said, you were always so smart. And then I saw how you became obsessed with people like me, went to college to study criminal justice, always thinking about me. Joined the FBI because you were so obsessed with me, weren’t you, little April?”

She wanted to spit in his face, but she remembered what Hotch said about feeding into his ego, “They say you never forget your first.” She says cooly, almost seductively.

It works, an arrogant smile twists its way up his face and he pockets the knife. “All I ever wanted was to find you,” She says, slipping into character, “See those blue eyes again. I dream about them every night.” None of these statements are lies, but the tone she takes when delivering them, the sweetness she adds to it, the act she puts on makes bile rise in her own throat.

“I knew it.” He says, looking at her with newfound desire, “We’re soulmates, you know?” His words are gentle, but he grips her by the hair again and pulls, exposing her neck. “Let’s run away together, baby.”

“Okay.” She says softly, “I’m ready.”

Hotch is already ordering the team to go in, jumping out of the back of the van with Morgan. Through his earpiece, he listens closely to you. He can hear your fear in the way you’re breathing, but he’s not sure Allen is picking it up from you.

When she agrees to go with him, he spins her and shoves her against a wall, her head painfully bouncing off the cement. He laughs as she winces and then leans in to kiss her throat, “Are you going to tell your team to leave us alone?” He reaches under her shirt where the wire is and yanks it off her. “April, April, April. My clever, clever girl. You had to know I would have expected you not to come by yourself.”

He pushes himself off her and walks to the table, reaching under it and pulling out a gun that he had taped there earlier.

April’s jaw tenses as he raises the gun to point it at her head, “You won’t kill me.” She says smoothly, though she’s not sure she believes it herself.

“No,” He cocks the gun and turns slightly to aim towards the doorway, “But if Aaron Hotchner walks through that doorway I’ll kill him.”

She does her best to betray nothing, but a muscle in her jaw jumps involuntarily and he narrows his eyes at her, “Yeah, I thought you liked him.”

“I care about everyone on my team.” She says stiffly.

He shakes his head, “No. Don’t forget April, I’ve been watching you. I know your weaknesses as I’m sure you know mine and the past few days here I’ve noticed the way you look at Agent Hotchner when you think he’s not looking. But he always notices because he’s always aware of you, even when he tries his hardest not to be. So, April, I’ll give you one chance,” He hands the wire back over to her, “Tell Aaron to back off.”

Reluctantly, she takes the wire from him. “Hotch,” She breathes, “Stand down.”

Hotch holds a hand up to the team on the outside, signaling them to stand down, though he can barely hear past the roaring in his ears.

“There,” Her voice comes in his earpiece again, “Are you happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when he hears me kill you and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

“I thought we were running away together.”

“You think I can’t tell when you’re playing me?”

“No, I know you can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Something in April had unlocked when Allen threatened Hotch. Threatened her team. And she knew Hotch could hear them and though she had told him to stand down, he was trying to figure out another way to get to her. He wouldn’t stop until she was out of there, whether it ended with both her and Allen in body bags or Allen in cuffs. But she wouldn’t let it come to that.

“Since you’ve been watching me my whole life, you know the entire town thought I killed my own family and that I lied about the whole thing. Do you know why they thought that? Because they saw in me what my team sees in people like you.” She walks up to him, and though every instinct screams to run, she instead places a hand on his chest, “That night… you made me into you. So no, Allen,” It’s the first time she uses his name and she relishes the shock that lights in his eyes, “You can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Capitalizing on his surprise, she disarms him the way Morgan has drilled into her over and over, quickly slamming his wrist into the nearest surface and catching the gun when he releases his grip. Faster, she takes a step back from him and draws her gun as well, now pointing two weapons at him, “And I think you’ve overplayed your hand, babe.”

He raises his hands and now there’s genuine fear in his eyes, “April--”

“I’d like you to very slowly remove the knife from your pocket and toss it to the floor and if you even think about launching it at me, just know that I am a very good shot and I have been dreaming about killing you every day since I was twelve, don’t tempt me.” Her voice shakes, but this time not from fear, but from anger that she’d harbored close to her chest since the man who stood in front of her stole everything from her.

As Allen slowly does as he’s told, April hears footsteps on the stairs and is relieved when she spots another gun trained on Allen in her peripheral. Morgan begins to walk to Allen, but April stops him, “No.” She says, “I want to do it.”

He nods and redraws his gun, backing away. She holsters her own weapon and hands Allen’s gun back to Hotch without looking at him. Drawing cuffs from her pocket, she walks behind Allen who has managed to get a smirk back on his face. The sight breaks something in her and she roughly shoves him against the wall, feeling satisfaction at his grunt of pain when his face collides with the cement. She tightens the cuffs a bit more than necessary and begins stating his rights to him as she marches him up the stairs.

“I’m going to be a legend, you know? They’ll make all these dateline documentaries about me and the families I’ve killed.” He’s smiling still as April shoves him in the backseat of Billy’s police car. She’s trying not to think about the fact that he showed up here.

“Prisoners don’t look too fondly on those among them who kill and rape children, Allen, and I’m going to make sure that whatever cell block you rot in knows exactly what you’ve done. Have a nice life.” And she slams the car door.

Billy’s watching her as she does so, “I’m sorry.” He says simply.

April sighs, “I don’t care.” She says without looking at him and then walks away.

Hotch is watching her, arms crossed and frowning deeply. She stops in front of him, tilting her head to the side and noticing the concern written all over his face as he sizes her up, “Thank you for backing off when I asked you to. I know that was hard for you.”

He simply pushes himself off the car that he was leaning against and pulls her to his chest. She feels surprised for a moment, but then wraps her arms around his waist in return, breathing him in, focusing on his touch rather than Allen’s. And when the sobs begin to wrack her body, he just holds her tighter. He knows the rest of the team is watching and maybe he’ll have to explain this later, the way he rests his head on top of hers to reassure himself as much as her, but he doesn’t much care. He’d been fairly certain she was going to die in there and he’d never have the chance to tell her how he really felt.

Hotch drives back to the hotel with her sleeping in the passenger seat. The medics had checked her out and concluded that she didn’t really have any injuries, but his heart had nearly shattered in his chest when April asked if there was any way they could refill her sleeping medication. They had been unable to, but decided to give her a few doses of ambien anyway, to last her until she could call her prescriber back in DC.

“You can take as much time off as you need when we get back.” He had said as they climbed in the SUV, his too big FBI jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she immediately popped the ambien in her mouth.

“I don’t need to take time off.” Was all she said before she curled herself in a tiny ball, facing the car door, and fell asleep only minutes later.

Now, he pulled into the hotel parking lot, rain falling gently against the windows and debated whether he should wake her. “April.” He said softly, gently shaking her shoulder.

“Mmm.” She murmurs and her eyes flutter. Still straddling the line between sleep and wakefulness, seeing Hotch’s face above hers prompts a small smile. “Aaron.” She says softly and reaches her hand up to touch his face.

Hearing her use his first name so tenderly sends a jolt through him, but he reminds himself that she’s sedated, albeit lightly, from the ambien. “Do you think you can walk up to the hotel room?”

She nods sleepily and he quickly gets out of the car to help her out of the other side, pulling the hood of his jacket over her head to shield her from the rain. She walks slowly because of the drug, but he doesn’t mind. And when she slides her hand down to his to intertwine their fingers, he doesn’t mind that either. When they get to the hotel room she wordlessly strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed.

He stares at her for a while, unsure if she would want him in the bed or not, and decides it’ll be safest to sleep on the couch. He begins taking some cushions off the couch when he hears her voice, “Aaron?” There was his name again. He wasn’t sure why hearing her say it had him coming undone, but he wanted her to repeat it over and over again.

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you come to bed?”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times before responding, “I was going to sleep on the couch.” She’s quiet for too long and he thinks she must’ve fallen asleep so he turns back to the couch.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Her voice is so quiet, he wonders if he imagined it. But when he turns back to the bed, she’s watching him, eyes full of sadness and what he thinks might also be desire. He can’t say no to her. She continues watching him as he takes off his clothes, first unbuttoning his shirt. She watches him carefully, no traces of shyness and he tries his best not to let on the way her attention affects him. He undoes his belt buckle and then pulls off his pants before walking to the bed, pushing the sheets aside, and climbing in.

She turns to him and brings their faces close enough that just another inch would have them rubbing noses together. “Why have you been so nice to me this whole case?”

It’s not what he was expecting her to say and he frowns, “It was a tough case for you that brought back a lot of trauma, why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

She shrugs, “I know you’ve never liked me the way you like the rest of the team--”

“That’s not true--”

“Aaron.” He wonders if maybe she’s caught on to the way saying his name affects him as his mouth closes immediately, “I’m not stupid, I haven’t been here nearly as long as the others and I certainly never open myself up in front of them the way the rest of you do. It’s not anyone’s fault, I’m just… Not a part of the family. But this case… You treated me the way you would treat Reid, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss… Any of them. Why?”

“The second you join this team you’re a part of this family and I’m sorry we made you feel otherwise.”

She rolls her eyes and turns her head to look at the ceiling, “Would you have shared a bed with any of them?”

Heat floods his face and he’s glad she’s not looking at him. “No.” He says and he’s sure his voice, thick with desire has betrayed him.

But April only nods, still staring at the ceiling, “Is it just because you’re lonely?”

It’s then that he realizes what she’s getting at. He hears the vulnerability in her voice, the fear there. She thinks she’s not good enough for him and it breaks his heart even further. “April, look at me.” She manages to turn her head to him and her eyes are glassy. “You have shown the last few days how incredibly resilient, intelligent, and just amazing you are. You can’t really think that the only reason I keep reaching for you is because I’m lonely.”

She smiles sadly, “You wouldn’t be the first.”

A lesser man would’ve taken this personally, perhaps groan about how she could think so little of him, but Aaron was different. He understood what she’d been through, that he could have been Superman himself and she’d still have her doubts.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you.”

She turns her head back to him and frowns, a trace of amusement on her face, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes a thumb across her cheek, “I’d like to start by just holding you tonight, if that’s alright.”

She closes her eyes at his touch, nuzzling her face further into his palm and he melts. “I’d like that.” She says softly.

So he gently wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him. Her little sigh of contentment as she settles against his chest is almost too much for him to take. “Aaron?” She says after he's spent a few moments just listening to her heartbeat.

“Hm?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever felt truly safe around.”

He feels her sadness then and he tightens his grip around her to convey that he’s sorry she feels that way, but he’s grateful for her trust. They fall asleep like that and neither attempt to move away from the other the entire night.

***

“So this is a date.” It had been about two months since they had gotten back from Maine and Aaron had been nothing but a gentleman to her. So much so, in fact, that at some points she thought he was no longer interested in her.

He chuckles, “It’s not a date. We’re meeting the team.”

“Yes, but you’re taking me,” April grins, linking her arm through his as they walk towards the bar, “So it’s a date.”

“If it was a date I would’ve done this--” Hotch spins her in front of him and abruptly kisses her. At first, she freezes, but when he gently nips at her bottom lip she moans slightly, kissing him back. As sudden as it began, it ends and Aaron is staring at her with a look of such arrogant satisfaction she wants to slap him.

“Okay, so it is a date.” She murmurs quietly as Aaron steps around her and walks away, “I knew it.”

When Aaron opens the door to the bar for her, he casually slips his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. He notes her questioning look from the corner of his eye, but just squeezes her hand in response. And instead of detaching herself from him when the team notes their arrival, she squeezes his hand in return, even when the relentless teasing from the team commences.

Aaron only slips away from her to go get them drinks and even then she looks back for him. It’s the most unsure of herself he’s ever seen her and it only broadens his grin.

“You finally did it, eh? Attaboy, Aaron.” Rossi’s already at the bar, a whiskey in hand and another on the bar that he slides to Aaron. He takes it and then orders April a gin and tonic.

“It’s just one date, Rossi. She’s still… hesitant.”

“She doesn’t look hesitant,” Rossi says, looking over his shoulder, “She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked away from her.”

Aaron smirks, “Yes, well, I’ve discovered playing hard to get is very effective with her.” He tips the bartender and clinks his glass with Rossi before walking back over to April. When he hands her the drink, she seems to shrink into his side, taking larger gulps of her drink than he thought she should.

“Slow down,” He plucks the drink from her hand and places it on a nearby table, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Look at all of them just staring at us, I feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what, being with me?”

“Aaron, no,” She places a hand on his arm, sensing the insecurity rising in him, “I want to be with you.”

“Then what?”

She shrugs and reaches for her drink again, but Aaron covers her hand before she can, clearly expecting an answer from her. She sighs and looks up at him, “I feel pressure to be perfect because I can see on their faces how much they love you and I don’t want to fuck this up and then you all hate me because I wasn’t good enough for you.” It all comes out in a rush and she feels breathless after admitting it, her cheeks reddening as he lifts his hand, allowing her to reach for her drink.

“April, they like you just as much as they like me.” She rolls her eyes and he reaches out to tip her chin up gently with his fingers, “You could never mess this up.”

“I messed it up with Billy.”

He drops his hand, unable to hide the annoyance and jealousy on his face at the mention of Billy, “Billy was an immature boy who didn’t know how to treat you anyway.”

She smirks, “And you’re a big strong man who can sweep me off my feet at a moment’s notice?” He manages the smallest of smiles as a slow song starts playing, “Come on, Hotchner. Ask me to dance.”

“You want to dance in front of the team?”

“Well you brought me here to show me off, didn’t you?” He gives her a look like he’s offended she would even think so and she laughs, “Please?” She pouts, “Billy would dance with me if he were here.” She adds teasingly, her eyes glittering with mischief.

Hotch shakes his head at her, but he’s grinning, “You love causing trouble, don’t you?” And she laughs in response as he takes her hand and pulls her to the dance floor, letting his left hand rest gently on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers.

He twirls her around the room and with the whole team watching, he kisses her as the song ends. Their lips worked together to teach each other their own dance and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, until the rest of the team starts jeering and April pulls away, her face flushed. Aaron is still looking at her, smiling and she reaches up with her thumb to swipe at his mouth, “I got some lipstick on you.” She says quietly.

“Can I take you home?” He says finally and his voice is husky and full of want.

She wonders if he’s aware of how alluring the sound of his voice is. “Yeah.” She responds swallowing.

He leads her out of the bar after much protesting from the rest of the team, but all he wants and needs is to get April, April who’s smiling at him from ear to ear, home and in bed with him. They settle into their new relationship with ease, the team noting that they’d never seen either of them smile so much and all of April’s fears and insecurities melted away day by day.

As long as her unit chief quietly placed a coffee on her desk every morning with a sweet note attached to it, she figured she could overcome anything.

#mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x oc #hotch angst #hotch fluff #hotch imagine

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hawkwhore · 3 years

Note

hi hi hi could i request a hawk imagine where it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing, so hawk is still in cobra kai and y/n is in miyagi do. basically tori hurts her and he sees her after and gets protective over her, then they get close and kinda secretly date... something like that haha THANK YOUUU <33333

Do Better — Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Female!Reader

HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I literally had an entirely different fic at like 8k words for this before I decided it didn’t fit close enough to the prompt and I just completely started over and this one was even longer than the first so that’s why it took me literal ages LOL.

includes; swearing, fluff, fighting, so much angst

words; 11,394 (im sorry its a whole ass novel)

this takes place late s2, after demetri and hawk’s friendship ends but before eagle fang forms!

Most of your time in high-school you spent in a bubble, keeping to yourself and just your few friends. You didn’t involve yourself in other people’s crap very often, but when an all-out karate war happened at the end of your junior year, you couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows anymore.

Bullying was becoming heavy at your school, and while you weren’t usually a target, you grew tired of watching other people get hurt. Primarily, by a familiar face to you-- Eli Moskowitz.

Not that you knew him particularly well, but you remembered the shy boy you’d shared classes with, and you always tried your best to be nice to him knowing how others treated him.

You never would’ve thought that now he’d be the bully, destroying the confidence of other kids who were just like him.

“Look at this kid,” He laughed to his friend, Mitch. The two boys were standing in the hall, hovering over a small, scrawny boy who looked terrified. “You wanna be in Cobra Kai? Well, see, we had to be un-flinched first. We can do that for you right now, though. See how much you can take.” He teased, threatening a punch, watching the boy wince at his movement.

When you were in the halls on your way to your next class, you witnessed this horrible incident. You watched for a moment, before deciding that it was time for you to step out of your bubble. “Hey, leave him alone.” You said annoyedly, urging the boys to give it up.

Hawk turned to you and leered, and Mitch pushed the kid against the locker so he wouldn’t move while they dealt with you. “Be careful who you talk to like that, princess.” He moved dangerously close, and despite the feelings of anger you had towards him, your stomach dropped a little at the nickname.

Not letting it affect you, you came back bitterly. “Oh yeah? And who am I talking to, Eli?” His face contorted in disgust at the use of his real name. “You know, it’s sad, how you became everything you used to despise. I remember the other side of you, you were sweet..” You said, smiling to your self in remembrance. “And now look at you.” Looking at him in resentment, you finished.

Turning angrily on his heel at your words, Hawk punched the boy in the face and let him go running. He looked back at you with a look of victory, and Mitch smirked. “You better watch your back.” Hawk said threateningly, and knocked his shoulder into yours as he walked to his class.

Through the rest of the day, Hawk thought about you. He knew who you were; Y/N, the only girl to ever be nice to him during his shier days. He remembered the feeling he got any time you’d talked to him, and also how pretty you looked each time you did.

He had almost forgotten until then, how much he had always admired you. He even wanted to ask you out all that time ago, but now too much has changed. Way too much, clearly, because when the commercial for Miyagi-Do came out, you were quick to join.

It was that interaction with Hawk that really set you off, actually. You wanted to be able to stop the cruelty, and you thought that joining Miyagi-Do for defense would be a good start.

Little did you know, the rivalry would only grow.

As weeks passed, Miyagi-Do gained students and flourished. But in the meanwhile, Cobra Kai only got rougher, angrier, and just.. worse, in general.

You had done your best to avoid fights, (like a true Miyagi-Do would) but on a particularly bad day of yours, you were unlucky enough to find yourself running into Tory outside of school.

Being close friends with Sam, you knew to stay clear of Tory after hearing what she did to her. You thought Tory was a vile human being, though, and if she were to start anything-- she was probably the one person you wouldn’t hesitate to absolutely destroy.

When on your way to the dojo, you took a pit stop at a convenience store to pick up some snacks since you had some time to kill between after school and when practice started. You were met with an unpleasant surprise on your way out, when you saw Tory approaching the store.

The two of you made eye contact as you crossed paths, and you decided to ignore her and keep walking. Until, as you walked past each other, Tory stuck out her leg and tripped you over the concrete pathway.

“Are you kidding me, bitch?” You pushed yourself up, scoffing at her, and she smiled maniacally. “What’d you just call me?” She teased, obviously looking for a fight.

As much as you wanted to stay calm, you were pushed over the edge. “You heard me, bitch.” You repeated, letting her know you were not afraid. “What’s your problem? I keep away from you and you just can’t help yourself from starting something. I’ve never even done anything to you.” You confronted Tory, looking for an explanation for her behavior.

It was true, you’d hardly ever interacted with her-- but since you’re in Miyagi-Do and friends with Sam, she just didn’t like you. And Tory being Tory, if she didn’t like someone, she was going to be a bitch about it.

She laughed at your attempt to reason with her, and looked at you in self-satisfaction. “I just think it’d be fun to watch you bleed.” She seemed proud at the insult, stepping forward threateningly-- but you thought it was pretty lame.

Clearly, she had no real answer for the questions you asked her. She was far gone in her own world, using only anger to dictate her decisions.

You had let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head, and turned to simply leave the situation, remembering that it wasn’t worth it. But Tory had other plans.

She grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully forcing your body to face her. You quickly rotated it to release yourself from her grip, and punched her in the face with your newly freed hand.

“Leave me alone, Tory. This fighting for no reason crap is bullshit.” You said, stepping out of her proximity and holding your fists up in case of needed defense. Tory felt blood trickle from her nose, and as she wiped it from her face, she threw you a sickening sneer.

Seemingly avid on letting her rage out on you, she only continued. “You’re pathetic.” She cackled, taking a swing at you. You blocked this, but the movement left an opening for her to then kick your stomach, which sent you to the ground.

Before you could manage to get up again, she was hovering over you, punching your face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the pain was sinking in that you finally gained enough power to push her off, rolling forward and pinning her down tightly.

You grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her face towards the ground. “Give it up, Tory.” She stayed quiet, breathing heavily, until she used her remaining strength to free her arm and dig her elbow into your side.

You fell back at this, and you were now both sat on the ground, mere inches from each other. “Seriously, I mean what’s the point? What are you gaining from this besides a couple of bruises?” You stood up, asking again.

You genuinely wanted to know, what could make a person so heartless. You had done nothing to provoke her, yet she was so intent on hurting you. Your question had unfortunately only sparked her rage again, the way you acted so ‘above it all,’ in Tory’s mind made her only angrier.

She rose, charging towards you for another strike, when the owner of the convenience store came out. “What the hell is this? Do I need to call the police?” The man asked. He had caught you in the blocking position of Tory’s attack, and she bitterly pushed herself off of you.

“You got lucky.” She spat, walking back towards the store she was originally on her way into. “Think about it, Tory! Why?” You yelled as she walked away, wanting your final words to sink into her.

You assured the owner that you were fine, and that he didn’t need to get the cops involved. You took out your phone and checked your complexion in the front camera, cringing seeing the cuts and bruises from Tory’s punches all over your face.

But remembering the bloody nose you had given her in your first punch, you smiled to yourself. Looking at your phone’s clock, you had certainly killed the time, but much more than you had wanted to. You were going to be late, so you texted Sam, alerting her that you got in a fight (sparing the details for later,) and that you would be late to practice.

You figured you could just clean up your cuts when you got home, it wasn’t a big deal, probably. But on your walk to the dojo, a passing car slowed at the sight of you. You started walking faster, instantly assuming the worst, but when the window rolled down, you heard a familiar, extremely unpleasant voice. Hawk.

“On your way to practice, huh? Still no car?” He taunted, knowing you still hadn’t saved up enough to buy your own. You glanced at him and rolled your eyes, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. How many enemies were you going to bump into today?

That was when he noticed your face. “Jesus, Y/N, what happened to you?” He laughed, fully stopping the car. You halted and responded annoyedly, “Tory happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Turning back towards the walkway, you continued down the street.

But before you could get far, Hawk had gotten out of his car and caught up to you. “You’re not seriously headed to the dojo like that are you?” He said confusedly, trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked at him like his question was stupid, and continued walking. At your ignoring of him, he pushed his point further. “You need to clean those cuts.” He said, still following close behind you as you walked.

“Since when do you care?” You said irritated, continuing to disregard the boy’s words. At this, he finally stopped following. “You know what, fine.” He stood, speaking sharply, and you looked at him curiously at his abruptness. “Just trying to help, or, be nice or whatever.” He muttered aggravatedly, raising his hands in mocking surrender at your attitude.

You had ignored his concerns, because quite honestly you didn’t believe he was actually concerned. You had assumed it was some sort of set up for a new insult, or a way to just mess up your face even more.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?” You said rudely, engaging back in the conversation. Hawk pursed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably.

You didn’t know it, but Hawk still cared about you. He may have changed, but his feelings for you hadn’t— as much as he tried to get them to. And right now, seeing you hurt, and since there was nobody around to judge him for it, he wanted to help you.

“Look, I’ve got some first aid stuff in my car. Let me help.” He stayed where he was, not wanting to provoke you, and spoke softly, nudging his head towards his car.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, feeling skeptical of accepting the invitation. He noticed your hesitation, but did not back down, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

You let out an exasperated sigh, and walked towards his car without saying a word. Continuing to argue with him about it seemed like a waste of time to you at this point.

Hawk smiled to himself in relief that you gave in. Hurrying after you, he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of his car and ran to open the passenger seat door.

“You wanna sit?” He pointed at the seat, motioning you to take it. You dropped your bag and got in the car, still glaring at Hawk.

He seemed sincere in his intentions, but you really just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what he could really be planning?

As you took your seat, you reached out to take the kit from Hawk’s grasp. “Hold on,” he said, moving the box away from your reach.

You gave him a bothered look, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “Have you ever even done this before?” He said, referring to cleaning up after a fight.

“No?” You shrugged, “It can’t be that hard.” You said impatiently, reaching for the box again. “Can you please just let me do it? I’ll show you how for next time.” He practically pleaded, wanting to make sure it was done right so you healed properly.

You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him, but you were tired of going back and forth with him. “Whatever, just make it quick. I’ll miss all of karate class at this rate.” You complained, moving closer to the edge of the seat so Hawk could reach you.

The height of his car made you two the same height, so Hawk was face to face with you as you were seated. “Hmm, miss a Miyagi-Do lesson? I don’t see the problem.” He joked, almost making light of their rivalry.

You smiled lightly at that, playfully rolling your eyes, but not saying anything. He stood close enough to examine your face, and it was close enough to make you both nervous.

It was silent as he opened the kit and started to clean your cuts, but you broke it to ask a question that was burning in you. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you for a second, looking reluctant to answer your question. “What do you mean?” He dodged, continuing to tend to your bruises.

You laughed, knowing full well he knew what you meant, but deciding to answer him anyway. “Why are you helping me? We aren’t friends.” You said plainly, making sure to keep your face still.

“I don’t know, you just obviously needed it.” He brushed off the seriousness of the question, starting to dab the cloth over your lip so you couldn’t talk.

You pushed his hand away lightly. “That’s hardly an answer. You’d never help a Miyagi-Do, so why?” You snapped, not letting his hand near your face again until he answered.

He finally took a step back, and stared at you looking defeated. “You’re the only one who was ever nice to me. Before.. this.” He pointed to his hair, referring to the era of The Hawk.

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” You asked expectantly, and he rolled his eyes. “Demetri’s different, okay? He betrayed me. But you..”

He trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact with you. “You were never anything but good to me. You deserve better.” He said, and your heart both stung and fluttered at once, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

You wondered if his actions were truly coming from a place of sincerity. It was very unlike him to be anything but an asshole, so hearing something like that come out of his mouth really made you think.

He tried to ignore the sentiment he had just said by walking back towards you and starting to tend to your wounds again, but you only pushed him back for a second time.

“I don’t understand what happened to you.” You said sadly, examining the way he stood. “I changed.” He said monotonously, trying to avoid matching your energy of seriousness.

His hot-and-cold temper was starting to annoy you, the way he would open up just to close right back down again.

“Yeah, and not for the better. Are you even happy?” You said, frustrated, looking at him hard. His face turned sour.

“More than I was before!” He yelled, stepping towards you threateningly. You were taken aback at his outburst, suddenly feeling small as he grew angrier. “My life was hell, remember?” His voice cracked, and he tried to calm himself as he saw the way you leaned back into your seat uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry for keeping you, I probably cleaned you up enough so... just go.” He said softly, sounding regretful as he moved out of the way so you could get out of the car.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You felt completely clueless on how he was feeling, and you didn’t want to leave it like this. “Hawk-“, you started, but he cut you off. “No, just go.” He pointed away. “I was stupid to think I’d get a second chance with you.” He muttered to himself, turning to walk around to the drivers seat of his car.

“Wh— second chance? What do you mean?” You shouted after him and hopped off the seat, grabbing his arm before he could get too far.

At your tug of his arm, he looked back at you with the most intense feeling in his eyes. Not wanting to use his words anymore, Hawk turned to grab your wrist from the hand that was already resting on his arm, and pulled you against him.

Hawk smashed his lips onto yours, holding you loosely in fear of your rejection. You weren’t expecting it, but you didn’t pull away. Your kiss continued and you subconsciously shuffled backwards, now being able to lean against the side of the car as he grew more passionate in his movements.

Being with him like this felt amazing, but it was confusing, too-- you had to pull away and clear up this situation.

Finally letting each other go, Hawk looked at you with glossy eyes. You had no idea where all of this came from or what to say, so you were silent as you waited for him to explain.

He knew what you were waiting for, and sighed deeply before expressing how he felt. “I just feel like after everything, I owe you my best.” Hawk said quietly, and you waited for him to go on, having not yet made up your mind on the whole situation.

You enjoyed the kiss, yes-- but you didn’t understand why it had happened, and that was something you needed to know before anything could proceed further. Hawk was a jerk, and he was going to have a lot of explaining to do for you to suddenly be able to forget that.

He moved even closer, and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. “And I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He whispered, ghosting his fingers across the bruises on your face.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he touched you, closing your eyes in the moment. “And,” he pulled away from you, his voice changing to a more regular tone again, “I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel pain. Not after all those times you helped me escape mine.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand, as he referred to how you were there for him so long ago.

Pure concern and care for Hawk overtook you as the words left his lips, and you had never felt so conflicted in your life. It made sense to you now why he would often avoid you, whereas others he’d make it his mission to pick fights with.

He had just admitted to caring about you, and that he never wanted to be at fault for your hurt. He had a reputation to uphold, but he really did have a soft spot for you that never went away.

You felt like you were talking to Eli again, as though the sweet boy he once was had never left, but you also knew that once this moment was over, he’d go back to his corrupt ways again. And that terrified you.

All these new feelings for Hawk were rising in you, but how could you act on them when he was supposed to be your enemy?

He studied your expression, waiting for you to say something. He felt more confident now, seeing as you kissed him back, but he was still nervous for whatever you were about to say.

“What do we do?” You spoke shakily, your expression timid and lost. He caressed his thumb over your hand, noticing your own nerves. “What do you mean?” He asked, not expecting that to be your first question.

“I’ve always cared about you and you know that, but then you go through all these changes and become a total dick, and now you kiss me and tell me how you care too.” You say awkwardly, trying to point out the weirdness of the situation. “I’m confused, Hawk, and afraid. We can’t be together when everything about our lives will keep us apart.” You whimpered, scattering your eye contact.

His heart leapt at the mention of you two being together, but frowned once registering the context of the words. He suddenly felt guilty, seeing how distressed you were. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, he thought.

But it was too late now, and as he released your hand to move forward and hold you, he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your ear. He knew his recent actions since joining Cobra Kai weren’t exactly admirable-- he knew he should do better. But it was hard; and all he could muster right now, was an apology.

There was a lot to process in such a short moment of time, and you felt overwhelmed. You felt comforted and safe as he held you, but at the same time you felt wrong for feeling that way.

Maybe he was trying to do right by you, but would that be enough if he continued to act terribly when everyone else was around? You needed some time to think. “I should go.” You pulled away from his grasp, trying to be gentle even though your exit was abrupt.

“Oh,” he nodded, watching as you picked up your karate bag. “I just don’t want everyone at the dojo to worry.” You said, trying to rid the conversation of its tension.

He was trying to play it cool, but he was screaming on the inside, terrified that once you left you would never talk to him again. “Just promise you’ll fix that when you get home.” Referring to your still-slightly-messed-up face, he urged you, unable to refrain from making sure you took care of yourself.

You smiled sadly and nodded in response, feeling awkward about everything as you turned to walk back on your route towards the dojo. “And um,” You looked back at him once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, assuming he wouldn’t want his Cobra Kai friends to find out he had kissed a Miyagi-Do.

His heart broke when you said this-- you basically thought he was ashamed of you? In a way you were right, he didn’t want them to know. But the guilt that spread across his face at your words, showed how badly he wanted to tell everyone just how much he liked you.

Clearing his throat, he tried to pull himself together again. “Right, yeah. See you.” He said, and watched you for a moment as you walked away.

Getting back into his car, he fought the emotions threatening to spill out, and pushed them away as he headed home. He couldn’t stop thinking about his next move, and what would happen next time he saw you.

Obviously the first thing he would want to do is kiss you, and hold you, and touch you.. but he knew that instead he would likely end up being encouraged by his friends to attack you in some way.

He couldn’t just say, ‘back off guys, she’s cool, i like her now.’ because that would definitely earn him a beating and a seat at the rejects table. He had been fighting these feelings for so long because of this exact reason, and he was pissed at himself that he couldn’t have just kept it under control for longer.

It would have been easier for him, and you. Even you were worrying as you walked to practice about what you were going to do when you saw him again. Your friends may be more forgiving than Hawk’s, but you doubted they’d be particularly thrilled about any of this news.

They would surely tell you to be careful, not to trust him, that it was just a game to find a weakness in you. These doubts inflicted your mind constantly, and it sucked that you had to figure all of it out on your own.

You were a half-hour late to karate when you arrived, and luckily Sensei Larusso had the tools to heal the remaining injuries on your face. You explained what happened with Tory, but you didn’t tell them about Hawk.

Your classmates were angry, Sam especially, and you were too. But after everything, you knew nobody in Cobra Kai was really in their right mind. Tory was an out of control girl with aggression issues, and Hawk was constantly battling a feeling of pressure and pent-up rage.

The worst thing about being in Miyagi-Do, was knowing the right way to go, and knowing that the right way was going to be a long, slow, and difficult process. It was a waiting game at this point-- how many fights would it take for the Cobra Kai kids to realize that wasn’t what they needed to do?

How much pain would they all have to endure, to realize there were better ways to solve their problems? You had only hoped that Hawk taking this step towards you was a step in the right direction-- and that maybe the rest of the Cobras would soon follow.

But until then, it was a secret. And the next few times you saw Hawk were an extreme struggle for the both of you.

Each passing day that you’d make eye contact at school, you’d both immediately look away. Neither of you had spoken or even texted since the kiss, and you were both failing miserably at proper communication.

At first, you thought that maybe the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe it should just be left alone. But recalling everything Hawk said to you that day, you couldn’t ignore how real it felt. You wanted to be with him, but you had no clue how to go about that.

You were waiting for Hawk to make the next move, but to Hawk-- the ball was in your court. You had left him there, with no definite answer on how you felt about it, and never got back to him since. It seemed to him like you wanted to forget about it, so when one of Moon’s parties rolled around that weekend, he decided to forget about it too.

You were coming to the party, but got there late; and what a wonderful sight it was for the first thing to see as you walk in be Hawk, face inches away from another girl’s, flirting the night away.

Of course, you thought, feeling disgusted at what was in front of you. Of course everything he said was bullshit. You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what his goal was in pretending to care for you, especially when he got basically nothing out of it except a stupid kiss he could’ve gotten from anyone-- but clearly none of it was as real as you thought it was.

It’d been a few days, sure, but you thought maybe tonight you’d finally just talk to him. You watched as the girl played with the string of Hawk’s hoodie, and feeling a pang of jealousy you decided to walk by them, making sure your presence was known.

It definitely worked, because at the notice of your movements he excused himself from the conversation and followed you out towards the pool, where you had gone to get away from the sight of Hawk and the girl.

“Hey.” He whispered, as you poured yourself a drink. “Hi.” You replied boredly with your back turned to him, not exactly feeling excited to have a conversation with him.

He looked around, scoping out who may be listening, but luckily the only others outside were heavily invested in the drinking game going on at the other side of the patio.

Hawk could tell you were bothered about the girl, but didn’t understand why, since you had so obviously been avoiding him.

“Can we talk?” He asked, still being cautious as to not attract any attention. “Go ahead.” You were being difficult, but quite frankly you thought he deserved it. He made you spend days analyzing what had happened between you, only for him to move on from it after a few days?

He stomped closer, and you looked up at him. “You know we can’t talk here.” He nodded his head towards the back of the yard, hoping you’d go with him somewhere private.

You scoffed, and looked at the spot doubtfully. You were upset, but still curious to hear what he had to say. “Fine.” You rolled your eyes, feeling disappointed in yourself for giving in, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t dying to know what the hell he was thinking.

Hawk walked eagerly to the secluded part of Moon’s property, hoping to get some clarity from you. But before Hawk could say anything, your anger got the best of you.

“So what the hell is your problem?” You started, as soon as you knew you were out of earshot from the rest of the party. Hawk looked taken aback, his eyebrows immediately coming together. “Me? What are you talking about?” He said, offended.

You looked at him in disbelief, mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you joking? Are we going to pretend you weren’t just about to make out with that girl in there?” You said, feeling a twinge of hurt from your own words.

His face knotted in confusion and annoyance. “Seriously? You’re jealous right now? After I confessed everything to you, and you avoided me for days afterwards, I was just supposed to think you actually wanted me?” He tried to keep his voice down, but his emotions were getting the better of him.

“What? I just needed some time to think! It’s not like you bothered to text me either!” You whisper-shouted, now feeling like you were missing something.

“Well when you kiss someone and they basically run away from you, who’s responsibility do you think it is to reach out after?!” He threw his arms up in bafflement, looking at you expectantly.

Your face fell to a look of guilt, and eventually his did too. Suddenly you both felt like idiots at how far you jumped to conclusions.

“I was gonna talk to you today. But when I saw you in there with that girl, all these insecurities just came over me. I thought everything you said was just some Cobra prank and it never meant anything.” Your face drooped, feeling a little embarrassed to admit any of this.

His eyes saddened, and he shook his head. “And I just thought you hated me, and that no matter what I said it’d never be enough for you to forgive me.” He explained his own worry, and your eyes started to water at his words.

Feeling overwhelmed after finally being able to piece together what had been going on this whole time, you sprung into his arms, hugging him tightly. You both stayed embraced, enjoying the feeling of comfort from each other once again, until you finally felt strong enough to pull yourself away.

He kept a hand around your head, as though cradling something delicate. “I meant everything I said that day. It’s not a scheme. I want to be with you.” He told you, proving your suspicions wrong.

You smiled weakly, feeling warm at his confession, but nervous for what’s to come. “I’m sorry I never texted you, but I just don’t get how we’re going to do this.” You said, unconvinced. “We can’t tell anyone, and despite whatever we have, there are a lot more reasons why we won’t work than will.” You look away, your mood of happiness faltering at the idea of being realistic.

“I mean, you know I like you Hawk. And maybe it’s different for us, but, I can’t exactly support the way you treat other people.” You say reluctantly, trying not to sound rude. Hawk gulped, looking down shamefully.

Not wanting to think realistically right now, he ignored what you said and pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” He said sweetly, and moved his hand to lift your chin, kissing you tenderly. As nervous as you were about all of it, the way he kissed you somehow seemed to make all your worries disappear.

Just then as your lips met, sirens went off nearby. “Shit, cops?” Hawk said, breaking apart from you. You giggled at the unfortunate turn of events. “You go that way,” you pointed him in the opposite direction of where you were planning to exit, not wanting others to notice you were together. “See you around.” You said playfully, and he caught on to your plan.

Before he could give you a final peck or even say goodbye, you were gone around the corner of the house, and he wondered longingly when he’d finally be able to kiss you again.

The next couple days at school you’d both done your best to avoid looking suspicious with each other. There were many stolen glances, and lots of private texts, but you both somehow managed to keep whatever fling you two had completely under wraps.

Though you had been initially uncomfortable with the whole secret-dating-thing, you eventually gave up on worrying about what would happen if others found out. You were happy, and having a lot of fun sneaking around with Hawk.

You noticed he had even toned down some of his bullying, and your heart felt full at the thought that he might have done that for you. Of course, there were always a few ‘slip-ups’.. but he made sure you weren’t around to see those.

Even if it was difficult, it was thrilling in a way-- having make-out sessions in his car when no one was around to see, and slipping in through each others’ windows at night to see each other...

It was fun, pretending to hate each other by day, and then not being able to stay away from each other by night. It felt like the whole school was being pranked, and you two were the only ones in on it.

It had been a few weeks now since you admitted to liking each other at Moon’s party, and you were now headed to the sports shed near the soccer field where Hawk had asked you to meet him after school.

You’d came here and gotten a little wild with him twice before, so at the invitation you fully expected to be met with an aggressive Hawk, ready to hook up. But instead when you opened the shed door, he was standing shyly and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking a small step forward to meet where you were standing. “Hi, baby,” you grinned and kissed him chastely, taking note of the more innocent energy coming from him today.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes examining your face adoringly. “Um,” he said, radiating nervousness and backing up slightly. “What’s up?” You smiled at him curiously, taking his hands in yours.

After only a moment, he released his hands from your hold, and you suddenly felt concerned. Why was he acting so weird? You watched confusedly as he fiddled with the inside pocket of his jacket, not saying a word.

Pulling out a small box, he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver necklace. “Hawk!” You gasped, looking at it in awe. He felt more confident at your reaction, and felt safe to say something again.

“I thought that, since we always have to act around each other, you could wear it as a reminder of how we really feel.” He said, searching your expression for some sort of approval.

You stared at him in admiration, not yet able to find the words to respond. “It’s simple, so nobody will think it means anything, but, we’ll know.” He spoke again, hoping for it to grant a response from you this time.

Your face began to bloom with happiness. Taking the box from his hands, you kissed him passionately. “I love it. Can you put it on me?” You asked cheerfully, and Hawk smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, turning you around.

You did your best to move your hair out of the way, and Hawk gently pushed the few stray strands to the side. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin, you breathed heavily. You could feel his own breath hot on your neck, as he clasped the two ends of the jewelry together.

With your back still against his torso, he placed his hands around your waist, starting to leave soft kisses against your ear, and down towards your collarbone.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling, until the door of the shed barged open. You stumbled away from each other in shock, and looked to see Tory standing in front of the both of you.

“I knew it! What the hell is this, Hawk?” She screamed, prowling towards you. Feeling completely unprepared from the utter suddenness of the situation, you stepped back in fear. “What are you doing here!?” Hawk shouted, ignoring Tory’s question as he blocked her path from getting to you.

She sneered at the both of you, stopping as she noticed his protectiveness over you. “I’ve noticed how you sneak off at the end of school. I finally decided to follow you here.” She said matter-of-factly, giving you a glare.

“So what is she, Hawk? Your girlfriend?” She taunted, starting to circle you. Out of everything she’d said so far, that was the thing that actually made you the most nervous. You hadn’t actually used that word before... ‘girlfriend,’ you hadn’t really made it official, despite how much it felt like you already had.

You weren’t sure how Hawk would react now that he was caught, but you desperately hoped he would say, ‘Yes, she is, and I love her.’ But that was nowhere close, to what he said.

“What? No! We’re just having some fun, alright? It doesn’t mean anything.” He forced a laugh, stepping away from you. Your heart ached. This is what you were afraid of. You knew it was probably for the best for him to have said that, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt when you heard him say it.

You wished he would’ve right then and there just admitted it, stood up for himself, and chosen you. He could’ve just told the truth, and left Cobra Kai, and been with you. But you weren’t enough. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Oh, really.” Tory scoffed, barely believing his lie as she looked between the two of you. “You can have fun with anyone, Hawk, and you a choose a Miyagi-Do?” She spat, staring him down, and his usually-confident demeanor diminished instantly. “Break it off, or I tell everyone.”

Storming off, her threat lingered in the air as the two of you stood alone, unable to meet each other’s gazes.

“Maybe we should just end this, Y/N.” Hawk spoke meekly, finally breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in horror, forcing yourself to look up at him. “What?” You said, your voice faltering. “So that’s just it then?”

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes again as he met your stare. “We don’t have any other choice!” He shouted angrily, getting in your face. Your mouth fell agape at the way he was acting, your expression hardening.

“Yes, we DO!” You shouted back, and sobs started to escape you. You of course meant the choice being he stands up to the Cobras, and fights for your relationship. You understood his dilemma in the beginning, but at this point none of it seemed worth it to you anymore.

His eyes were fixated on you intensely, and his mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out what to do.

“You can easily stand up to them, the Cobras! You’re stronger than all of them combined. Why won’t you fight for us?” You cried, searching for any sign in his face that showed he regretted his words. He had never said so, but you could tell the only thing holding him back was the fear of the Cobras’ reactions.

His insides scrambled with guilt watching you cry. But he had to stay strong. Unaffected, unfazed, completely unbothered. That’s how he forced his expression to appear as he turned and left the shed, leaving you alone and in pain as you watched your worst fear come true.

“Hawk!” You yelled after him, but he only kept walking. “What happened to never wanting to be the reason I felt pain?” Your voice cracked, and you wiped your tears from your face, giving up.

Your words cut into Hawk like a knife. If even possible, Hawk was hurting more than you. Each step he took farther away from where you stood, he felt his heart scatter into another piece. He wished things could be different, too-- but you were too much of a risk.

Cobra Kai may be a large reason for his troubles, but it was also the only reason he was still on top. He wanted you so bad, but he was too afraid to let go of everything else just to have you.

It was safer this way, he told himself. If nobody knew, you’d be safer. You wouldn’t have to be involved in the drama that would come from it, you wouldn’t have another reason for the Cobras to come after you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Hawk repeated these things to himself over and over to make himself feel better about the way things ended. But no matter what he told himself, it was never enough for him to fully believe that he made the right choice.

Feeling helpless, you called the only person you thought might understand. “D-Demetri?” You spoke into the phone, taking a gasp for air between sobs.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” He answered, sounding worried. “I need to talk to you, can you-” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Can you come get me?” You were nervous he wouldn’t be able to, but you needed someone in person, not over text.

You and Demetri weren’t particularly besties, so for you to call him out of the blue, crying, was extremely worrisome to him. “Uh, yeah, okay sure. I only just left so I can turn back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you thanked Demetri and hung up, walking out of the shed and towards the front of the school to where he would be meeting you. Hawk was supposed to be your ride home, but clearly that was no longer an option.

When Demetri arrived, he didn’t wait for you to get in the car, he immediately got out and walked over to you. “What happened?” He said cautiously, becoming nervous about having to deal with others’ emotions.

He was never particularly great at consolation, being the awkward and blunt person he is-- and he really didn’t want to make things worse for you.

“It’s Eli,” You said, trying to hold back your tears. “I did something really stupid.” Your lip quivered, feeling embarrassed talking about it. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about you and Hawk, but at this point, you had nothing left to lose.

Demetri looked at you confused. “What do you mean?” To his knowledge, you and Hawk barely conversed, and there should be absolutely no reason whatsoever for you to be crying over him.

The closer you got to explaining it, the harder it got to contain your emotions. Despite knowing Demetri wasn’t very keen on hugs, you ran into him, desperate for the feeling of comfort.

At this point, Demetri’s level of concern was on the rise. Why on earth would you hug him? That’s never happened before. “I just thought you’d be the only one who would understand... if I told someone.” You spoke, words slightly muffled as you were pressed into his chest.

Reluctantly, Demetri accepted your hug and rested his arms around you. “Okay, Y/N, you’re scaring me. What did he do?” He asked, looking down at you.

Gaining the courage to explain yourself, to Demetri’s relief you let go of him and steadied your breathing. “A few weeks ago.. Hawk and I kissed.” You said hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

“What?” Demetri’s face scrunched into the most confused and offended look you’d ever seen him wear. “I know, okay, just wait.” You told him, hoping he would hear you out.

“I thought it was just a stupid mistake, or something?” You began, recalling the uncertainty you felt when it first happened. “But then he said all this stuff about how much he cared about me, and it turns out we actually have something real.”

Aware of the weirdness of what you were saying, you looked to see how Demetri was handling it. He showed a look of understanding, but you could tell he was simply masking the discomfort he was truly feeling. “It was really confusing at first, but then we started secretly dating.. because we knew everyone would flip if they found out.” You continued, the awkwardness worsening with each sentence spoken.

Demetri’s eyebrows rose. “Dating?” You visibly cringed at the reaction, but carried on with your story. “And he even started being nicer to people!” You mentioned, hoping to make the situation seem like you weren’t a complete idiot for allowing it to happen. “Because, I told him I didn’t think I could be with him-- with the way he treats people, you know? And things were actually going well until today--”

You took a moment, preparing the end of your explanation in the hopes you wouldn’t start to cry through it. Demetri looked at you impatiently.

“When Tory found us together and threatened to tell everyone about us if we didn’t break it off, and then Hawk just left me there and said that we should end things because he’s a coward and can’t do what’s right because HE WANTS TO LOOK COOL.” You shouted, running through the sentences fast and furiously. Instead of getting sad like you thought you would, you got angry. Ah yes, another stage of grief.

Demetri looked slightly scared of you at your sudden tantrum, but having heard your story, he did understand what you were feeling-- because in a way, it had happened to him too. This time, it was him who reached out to hug you, and you appreciated him for it. Hugs always seemed to make you feel calm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know how it feels. He’s stuck right now, but we can’t give up, okay? He’ll come around.” He said honestly, awkwardly patting your back. You laughed a tiny bit, seeing Demetri trying to console, but you were grateful for his presence.

You released each other from the hug, and you wiped any leftover tears off of your face. “Thanks, Demetri.” You said, smiling sweetly. He nodded, placing his hand on your arm in reassurance, and motioned for you to follow to his car.

The ride back to your house was quiet, but your thoughts were busy and loud. That’s how things were for awhile after that day. You kept to yourself again, and though you tried to look alive, you felt like you had retreated back inside the bubble you worked so hard to get out of.

You went to school, you went to karate, you did whatever responsibilities you had to do-- but for the rest of your free time, you spent it alone in your room, wondering what it would take for Hawk to come back to you.

It was unhealthy, really, how you would wait everyday for a sign of acknowledgement from Hawk, and decline any other social invitation because you never got one.

You even wore the necklace, everyday, in hopes that he’d notice and remember how much you meant to him. But it never worked. He never came back.

You got away with the isolation for awhile, but people were starting to notice how you’ve been pulling away. At least you had Demetri to cover for you once and awhile, to help keep up the facade that you were okay.

Because, you weren’t. You wondered if Hawk was, though. He certainly seemed like he was okay, but he couldn’t be. For your own peace of mind, you had to think he couldn’t be. To think that he was doing just fine while you were spending your days miserable, wouldn’t be fair.

He’s stuck right now, but he’ll come around. Demetri’s words echoed in your head, wondering if they were even true. Would he ever really come around? Is he in too deep? The thoughts scared you beyond belief, but as more days passed, the more you believed them.

You eventually forced yourself to stop caring. To stop thinking about it, and to just give it up. You’d spent too long waiting for him, and you were done letting his actions control your happiness. Although there was a part of you that could never really stop caring, you convinced yourself that it was gone.

After a few weeks, you stopped wearing the necklace. When you showed up to school without it on, it was the first time Hawk had noticeably looked at you since the breakup. He always avoided your eye contact, but that day he locked them onto yours as you passed him in the hall. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your neck, and you could see the glum look all over his face.

As much as you wanted to give in to the hope that he missed you, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let any of those thoughts in again-- not when you already worked so hard to let go of them.

Hawk watched you make your way through the corridors, hardly caring who noticed. While you may have had the ability to attempt to move on, he didn’t. It was his fault any of this happened after all, and it was completely up to him whether or not he could fix things between you.

The pressure of knowing he was the only reason for your and his despair was agonizing, and with the necklace no longer around your neck, he realized he was running out of time.

Time is what he thought he had, to turn things around for himself, and you. But his window was closing, and he was panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, Hawk waited a few blocks away from where you trained at Miyagi-Do, knowing he’d catch you on your walk home.

Making your way down the sidewalk after practice, you were completely unsuspecting when Hawk jumped out of his car and jogged towards you.

Things had really come full circle now, hadn’t they? You, walking home on that same sidewalk, pure disgust for Hawk in your veins as he tried to catch up with you.

You stopped short as Hawk stood in front of you, blocking your path. You were nervous and confused at his intrusion, and decided not to bother avoiding him right now.

His stare towards you was intense, and you only glared back, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“You stopped wearing the necklace.” He said it so plainly, you couldn’t tell what kind of response he was looking for. It seemed almost like a question in disguise-- why did you stop wearing the necklace, perhaps?

He was looking at you eagerly, though trying to hide the desperation behind the statement.

“Yeah, and?” You laughed at him, matching his tone of carelessness. He looked like he didn’t understand, so you continued. “What’d you expect? That I’d just keep waiting for you?” You said unpleasantly, with a hint of sadness in your own voice.

A shameful look glossed over his features, but you only kept going. “It’s obvious you’re not coming back, Hawk.” You smile at him mockingly, enjoying the feeling of guilt you were giving him.

He tried to stay strong, but every word you spoke was like a hit to his built-up walls, and they were so close to falling down.

“I spent weeks wondering what I’d have to do to get you to come back to me. To choose me.” You said, your voice calm, but the rest of you not. Your body was shaking with anger now, but your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Until,” You sniffled, gaining a tone of indifference, “I finally realized there was nothing for me to do. You just weren’t coming.” You were almost smiling through the pain, and Hawk looked at you in a loss for words.

You appeared so fragile to him, he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and spout apology after apology for what he’d caused. Seeing your eyes squint in attempt to hold back the waterworks, physically pained him.

“So yeah, I stopped wearing the necklace. But you know what?” You stepped forward confidently, despite the single tear that had just fallen down your face. “I think it hurt more wearing it than it did taking it off.” You finished with hardly any emotion in your voice, and Hawk looked mortified seeing you try to act so unaffected.

He had been silent through your whole exchange, because he knew there was nothing he could say now to make things better. He had done too much damage, and he had caused you too much pain. He did exactly what he said he’d never do.

You waited for him to say something, anything-- but as your eyes bore into his strongly, he couldn’t find the courage to speak. The disappointment was immense, and feeling hopeless once again, you pushed past him to go home.

Panicking at your leave, Hawk grabbed onto your arm. “Y/N, Wait, please-” “No!” You cut him off, looking at him coldly. His face was red, and his eyes were stinging now, too. Ignoring the feeling you got when you saw him like that, you ripped your arm from his grasp. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned to leave again, and this time, Hawk didn’t follow. There was only one thing Hawk could do now to get you back, and you knew he wasn’t ready for it. There was no use in you hanging around for him anymore, you deserved better. You deserved someone who cared enough that they’d do what it takes to be with you, regardless of social status.

You didn’t even care if he stayed in Cobra Kai, you just wanted him to stand up to his friends and be proud that he was with you. Didn’t he realize that he was one of the strongest Cobras, and that he could get through any of their shit? If his biggest problem was Tory, he hardly had any reason to stay quiet. You knew deep down he could do better.

Hawk hadn’t understood that then, but as he lingered on you walking away, something clicked in his head.

Maybe he really could do better. He wanted to, for you. He was still terrified at the idea of coming clean to the Cobras, but whatever he’d deal with from that couldn’t be any worse than being without you.

He liked the power he had being in Cobra Kai, and he hoped that he could keep it-- but if losing the power meant gaining you, at this point he was totally okay with that risk. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to negotiate with his friends first.

“Y/N!” It was a new day at school, and you were walking side by side Sam heading to your lunch table when he called your name. You shared a look with Sam, glancing towards him with a bothered look upon your face. “Come here!” Hawk shouted again, apparently not caring that the whole cafeteria had his attention.

A look of dread spread across your face, and you slammed your lunch tray on your friends’ table in defeat before stomping over to where Hawk and his asshole friends sat. Your friends watched from afar, completely clueless as to what Hawk would need you for, and Demetri struggled to pretend he was just as lost as they were.

“What.” You said bluntly, staring him and the rest of his table down. “Yeah, seriously, what are you doing calling her over here?” Mitch asked, looking at you in revulsion, and you rolled your eyes at him.

Hawk looked between you and his friends, struggling to keep his confident manner in tact, and sighed uncomfortably. “I know we don’t like the Miyagi-Dos. And we don’t like the way they run their dojo.” He stated, hoping to hook his friends in by starting negatively towards their rivals.

His friends looked at him in reluctance, wondering where he was going with this-- and you did too. “But I love Y/N.” He said loudly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and looking around at his friends. He was more nervous to see your reaction than theirs, so he barely looked at you once he said it.

“What?” The words came strongly from not only his friends, but you, too. He had never told you that before, and your heart melted at his declaration. When you spoke, he gathered the courage to look at you, and you’d never seen him so nervous.

“I love you.” He repeated, looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and on top of that he was announcing it to the whole school. You glanced over to see Demetri, mouth ajar, observing the interaction like it were a movie.

He meant it, and you could tell. He was waiting on you for a response, feeling more stress than he’d felt in a long time as he studied your bewildered expression.

Before you could say anything, Bert interrupted the moment. “You can’t love a Miyagi-Do. They’re stuck-up pansies who think they’re better than us.” He said, completely convinced that Hawk was out of his mind and needed a wake-up call.

Hawk cringed a little at the feedback, but was surprised when you decided to bite back. “I joined Miyagi-Do because I was tired of people getting bullied. You all choose violence when it isn’t needed, so I just wanted to be prepared.” You defended your intentions, fearlessly.

Tory snorted. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She jabbed, trying to make fun of your self defense skills. Before you could retort, Hawk slammed his hand down on the table and leaned in towards his peers.

“Listen! I’m with you guys, but she’s right. We’ve been reckless.” He said carefully, trying to keep a balance between who’s side he was on. “Sensei told us to fight smart, and we haven’t been.” He locked eyes with Tory, clearly sending her a message.

You watched as Hawk tried to reason with them, admiring his every move. Keeping up his confidence, he set down what was going to happen, and there’d be no arguments against it. “You guys can hate the Miyagi-Dos all you want, but I’m going to be with Y/N, and I’m staying in Cobra Kai.”

Interlacing his hand with yours, he looked at you pridefully before turning back to the outraged looks on his friends’ faces. “From now on, if any one of you touches her, you deal with me. That’s of course if she doesn’t kick your ass first.” He said smugly, and you smiled widely, feeling content at his speech.

Your heart was jumping out of your chest at the gesture he made, and you wanted to smash your lips onto his and tell him how much you loved him back-- but you kept yourself restrained for the sake of the situation.

Most of the Cobras nodded nervously at his announcement, not wanting to challenge Hawk when he was so sure of himself. But Tory wasn’t having it. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?” She snapped, death-glaring the entire table.

The group looked like they were trying to decide whether they were more afraid of Hawk, or Tory. You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter their reaction, you had won this, because you were with him now. It would certainly be a bonus if you gained their acceptance, though.

Mitch looked around in uncertainty about what he was going to say, but stuck up for Hawk. “Come on Tory, I mean, I get it... she’s hot.” He said referring to you, and you laughed a little at the shallow but positive response.

Hawk wasn’t as pleased with it though. “Hey.” He threatened, pointing a finger at Mitch. You giggled slightly at his jealous reaction, but pulled him back from Mitch by the hand you were holding his with. Mitch raised his hands in surrender, and Tory stood from the table, getting close to the both of you.

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, assholes.” She spat, and stormed away from the table. It went better than you would’ve thought, truthfully. Everyone else was loyal to Hawk, and you didn’t really expect anything less from Tory. Again, having Tory be your only threat seemed like small potatoes now that you two were together.

You nodded at the rest of the Cobras in respect, and with that whole thing being over, you tugged him by the hand towards your table of Miyagi-Dos. Hawk groaned, realizing where you were taking him, but did his best to stay civil.

Chris glowered at the both of you, and Sam looked a little disappointed, but she tried to look supportive. “So.... yeah. Sorry.” You said sheepishly, knowing that they had already heard everything.

“I’m glad it finally worked out.” Demetri said through a sad smile. You felt a little bad, knowing that Demetri still needed to work out his relationship with Hawk, and here you were rubbing yours in his face. That would be your next mission, you suppose-- operation get Demetri and Hawk to be friends again.

“Thanks, Dem.” You said appreciatively, and Hawk looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Wait, did you tell him before?” He asked defensively. The whole table looked to you and Demetri curiously, and you crossed your arms sassily.

“Uh, did I call someone to come get me after you left me alone in a shed? Yeah.” You recovered, your facial expression sly as you knew he couldn’t come back from that one. The others looked at him exasperatedly at your response, and his face dropped instantly.

“Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry about that.” He cowered, immediately dropping it, and you laughed at the remorse he was finally showing. You already knew he was sorry, but you guess it was nice to hear him say it.

He didn’t understand why you were laughing, though. He felt awful. And he also really needed a chance to completely apologize to you in private, now that he had already confessed his true feelings.

Suddenly, he picked you up entirely, arms holding your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. “Whoah, what is happening?” You laughed, looking at your friends who all looked just as puzzled as you.

Without saying anything else, he took off out of the lunch room carrying you, and made his way to the nearest exit to the outdoors. “Babe, where are we going?” You cackled, amused at the adventure he was taking you on.

Finally outside and alone, he let you down gently in front of him, and took your hands in his lightly. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I was a complete idiot for letting you go. You knew all along that we could do it, and I was too busy being a pussy to even try. And I’m really sorry for everything that went down today, I hope you aren’t mad, I literally told you I loved you in front of everyone and that must’ve been awkward, I mean you didn’t even get to respond, which, now that I think about it maybe you didn’t want to, or--”

You silenced his rambling with a forceful kiss, grabbing the sides of his face with your hands. “I love you too, Hawk.” You said, pulling away from the kiss quickly, to give him the response he had been looking for.

He smiled big in return, and it turned your insides to mush. “You know, I realized we never got the chance to make things official.” He looked up at you cutely and you smiled back, knowing what was coming.

“So, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked charmingly, his face mere inches from yours. Blushing furiously, you nodded as you touched your forehead to his. “Mhm,” You said in agreement, grinning.

He took a moment, just admiring the look of you so happy, and with his manner still playful, he reminded you of something you had said before. “See? I came back to you.” He said proudly.

You looked at him lovingly, feeling a little emotional at the sentiment. His expression turned serious now, and he parted from you only slightly. “I’m gonna do better for you, Y/N. I promise.” He spoke lowly, and you put your hands on his shoulders, beaming at him in acknowledgement.

You stepped forwards again, getting closer to him. He gave a seductive smirk at your movement, and you subconsciously traced your fingers along his neck, fixated on his face more than anything.

Hawk stared back at you affectionately, his attention flickering down towards your lips. Feeling bold, he placed his hands dangerously low on your waist, and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. You quickly reacted, letting your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your mouth opening slightly-- allowing Hawk the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your lips stayed connected as Hawk’s hands made their way up your back, his chest pressing closer to yours. As much as you wanted to continue, you were in broad daylight right outside the halls of your school-- and you really didn’t want a detention for too much PDA.

“Mm, Hawk-” You giggled, breaking away from him. “Hm?” He smiled, his hands resting loosely on your waist as he pecked your lips again before letting you free. “If we don’t go back in soon we’ll miss the whole lunch period.” You said, disappointedly.

“Eh, that’s fine with me.” He shrugged, smirking at you as he clutched you closer. You scoffed playfully, hitting him lightly, and gave him one last kiss before escaping his grip.

He pouted at you, and you looked back at him mischievously. He missed your touch already, so he snaked his arm around your waist as you walked back inside to satisfy his need of holding you.

You felt on top of the world with him by your side, now having full confidence in him and his feelings for you. “It’s a good thing I still have the necklace, huh?” You teased, looking back up at him, and Hawk smiled, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

Though your comment may have only been a joke, both of you felt whole at the idea of you wearing the necklace-- and as you walked joyfully through the halls with him, you knew you’d never be taking it off again.

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i just wanna talk about real quick how much i cringe when writing like its actually terrible how much i cringe at myself so idk if i’ll keep doing fics or not HAHAH but y’all can always send requests and i’ll get around to them if i can. hope yall liked this one tho and made it through the whole thing cuz yikes.

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk #jacob bertrand #eli hawk moskowitz cobra kai #eli moskowitz cobra kai #hawk moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai hawk #hawk moskowitz cobra kai #eli moskowitz imagine #hawk imagine #eli hawk moskowitz imagine

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secretlittlerandezvous · 3 years

Text

Explanations - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Y/n is an actress and the press likes to share rumors about her. One day Matthew sees pictures of her, and some other guy and he decides that making her jealous is the best way to deal with things.

Note: Requested by my love and written with love for my @star-gazing-game 💘

Words: 2150

Nothing was going right. Ever since Matthew woke up in the morning troubles seemed to follow him everywhere. He spilled hot coffee all over himself, burned his hand while preparing his breakfast, forgot his hockey gear on the way to the ice rink and when he returned home for it, he got stuck in traffic. Y/n was coming home after a few weeks of living in New York and he was strangely nervous about it though he had no reason to worry. Things were great between them; he was crazy for her and it seemed like she was crazy for him as well. But he felt like he needed to do something special to welcome her home but didn’t know what. She didn’t even like surprises.

When he returned home, this time hopefully for good he decided it’d be for his best to just sit down and watch tv and do nothing. He wasn’t the type to sit around and be lazy but from time to time he needed a break and he certainly deserved some rest after the morning’s events.

“Actress Y/n L/n was spotted out and about in New York and it sparked some exciting news,” Matthew immediately turned up the volume of the tv when he heard his girlfriend’s name and with excitement watched the news. “Y/n was spotted with her co-worker and they seemed to be pretty close. The actress hinted a relationship a few weeks ago and ever since then, the fans wanted to know who the lucky and mysterious guy was. Well, they look pretty good together what do you think guys?”

Matthew stared at the screen in shock, the color drained from his face, he had trouble breathing and he felt heartbreaking pain as he scanned the pictures carefully. There she was, Y/n, his girlfriend and her co-worker happily walking around the streets of New York, hand in hand and smiling widely at each other. In one picture it seemed like he leaned down to kiss her cheek but to protect himself Matthew decided the guy probably just whispered something into her ear. Matthew was doing his best to stay calm and not to panic, surely there was an explanation to this situation, and he wanted to believe they were just close friends and nothing more. But the harder he tried the more doubts and questions came to his mind and after a while he found himself questioning every moment from their meeting to this crushing moment.

Y/n and Matthew met almost four months ago during a Christmas event in Calgary, a common friend introduced them, and they hit it off right away. It wasn’t love at first sight, but they found each other familiar as if they met before. They shared common interests and the same opinions on dozens of different things, he made her feel safe and calm which was new for her because whenever she was seeing someone she became a nervous wreck and she could never relax and she made Matthew laugh like no other girl before. Matthew asked Y/n to be his girlfriend just two weeks after they met, and she jumped around his neck and kissed him hundreds of times before she said yes. Quite nervously she then asked Matthew if they could keep their relationship private for a while. Y/n wanted the media to focus on her new movies and not on her love life and she was worried that once the media would found out about it they would do their absolute best to dig up some dirt on both of them. Matthew understood her reasons and he agreed. Y/n was relieved he was so understanding, and Matthew was glad because he himself wanted to keep it lowkey to avoid unnecessary drama.

But now he saw things in a completely different light. What if he was just a distraction, a replacement, and someone to have fun with when she was in Canada and her real boyfriend was waiting for her in the states? What if she wanted to keep their relationship a secret so she could have fun with anyone without being caught? He wanted to call her and confront her, send her the pictures, and ask for an explanation and at the same time, he wanted to pretend she didn’t exist and forget about her.

That evening Matthew decided to have a good time. If she could hang out with other men, he certainly could do the same. It was Friday, they had no game and the boys gladly accepted his invitation to go to a club. He had various reasons to go there. The main one was to make Y/n jealous. He knew there was a high chance of pictures and videos of him having fun with other girls would appear across social media. Another reason was to drown his sorrows in alcohol and another one was to have at least a little bit of fun that day. The music was sensual and loud, the club was crowded to the absolute maximum and as soon as the girls found out he was a hockey player they were all over him. Exactly what he needed.

Especially one girl caught his eyes. A girl with golden skin that glowed in the neon lights, her brown curly hair framed her face nicely and her eyes were full of lust and she shamelessly flirted with him and hinted a few times she was available if he was interested. With each sip of his drink, he got closer to her until she was pressed against his body completely and they danced like one person. He liked it and to his horror, he enjoyed every move, every touch, and every smile she gave him. She was tempting him, and he had a hard time resisting her. And maybe because she noticed something was holding him back or maybe she was just tired of waiting she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him down closer to her, and eagerly kissed him. He didn’t kiss her back at first, but she didn’t stop, and he soon wrapped his hands around her neck and kissed her back.

“Finally,” she murmured against his mouth with a satisfied smile and continued kissing him until he pulled away and took a few steps back. “What?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry this was a mistake.” He hoped she would forgive him because he didn’t like it when someone was angry at him, but it was too late. She was already angry and mostly disappointed she wasn’t going home with him.

Matthew said goodbye to the boys, called a taxi, and wanted to get home as fast as possible. He couldn’t wait to go to bed and forget about the whole day. The next day Y/n would arrive, she would explain the pictures to him, and they would continue in their relationship as if nothing happened.

The following morning Y/n arrived in Calgary, called, and texted Matthew a million times but he wasn’t responding. The plan was to go to his apartment immediately but after she learned about his last night’s affair, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. The curiosity however won, and she decided to go to his place and demand a reasonable explanation for his actions. Her whole body hurt, her hands were shaking, and she had a hard time holding the tears back. Y/n was on the plane, on her way to Calgary when she opened Snapchat and saw stories from one of his teammates. At first, she laughed at Matt’s silly dance moves, but the smile quickly disappeared when she saw the video of Matthew and some girl dancing body on body. Y/n was willing to forgive him for the dancing, but it was the heated kiss she couldn’t ignore. The kiss that broke her heart.

“Y/n?” Matthew was surprised when he opened the door and found her standing there. Sad and tired. He himself just woke up, his head hurt badly and the regrets of last night were taking over him slowly but surely. “Oh my - I’m sorry I completely forgot. Come in.”

She didn’t even look at him and with doubts entered his apartment. The welcome was cold. Y/n imagined there would be music playing, a breakfast waiting for her, and most importantly she couldn’t wait to see his open arms and hug him. “Care to explain this?” She said loudly with all seriousness and showed Matthew the video of him and the girl.

Matthew’s face got even paler, he felt sicker than before and he couldn’t believe he did it last night. But then he remembered the reason he did it and decided to fight back because he wasn’t going to let her yell at him when she wasn’t innocent. “I’ll explain it but first you should explain this me this?” He said and reached for his phone and showed her the pictures that haunted him. “Maybe this is the real reason you wanted to keep our relationship a secret?”

“Oh god,” Y/n laughed. “Seriously? And you believe this? We did a movie together for God’s sake! These pictures are from a scene, the last scene we shot. The paparazzi sold them to the media as hot news, as if they caught us in real life which is utter bullshit!”

“Really?” He asked but it was more from the relief that she most likely wasn’t cheating on him.

“Yes, yes really!” She yelled. “I can’t believe you believed it! And that you thought I would do this to you! And you didn’t even have the guts to ask me about it.”

“Y/n, baby I’m sorry alright? I am. I panicked, I was jealous, and I acted like a complete asshole.” He admitted. “I wanted to make you jealous, but I never meant to take it this far I swear. I pulled away from her because I quickly realized it was a mistake and I rushed home.”

She was angry and hurt but too tired and very happy to be finally with him that she couldn’t help but forgave him almost right away. Y/n knew him, she knew he acted foolishly whenever something bothered him, and she could tell he truly regretted it.

“Alright,” she nodded and then rested her head on his chest, wrapped her hands tightly around him, and looked at him with love and no anger. Y/n wasn’t going to lose him, especially not because of some rumors and the press or because of some random girl in a club.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once again and kissed her forehead. His hand found hers and they intertwined their fingers and squeezed them tightly.

He kissed her once more this time on her lips, just a gentle and loving kiss before he pulled her into his lap so she sat on him and he pressed his head against her shoulder, hiding in the corner of her neck and shoulder and pressing gently kissed on her soft skin. Y/n let out a deep breath and released all emotions at once and she finally relaxed and threw all her problems away. His heart was beating faster, and she felt butterflies in her stomach and they both felt relieved to be finally in each other’s arms. Y/n could never hold a grudge against someone for too long, but she knew Matthew didn’t deserve such quick forgiveness. But what was he supposed to do? She was too happy to be with him and she understood his feelings but he still should’ve asked her instead of chasing girls at a club to make her jealous. Matthew sensed the confusion and he was ready to do whatever it would take to deserve the forgiveness.

“What can I do baby?” He whispered.

Y/n shook her head in response because she didn’t have enough strength to talk. Matthew stroked her hair and held her close to him worried she would leave him.

“I promise I didn’t want to take it this far,” he started explaining. “I wanted to have some fun, but this was not supposed to happen.”

“I know,” she whispered and smiled at him.

“You’re the most precious person I know, and I hate that I did this to you,” he said with a hope she would melt under his words. “And I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

His hand then cupped her face, stroked the soft skin of her cheek making her look him in the eyes so she would know he was being honest and in the next moment he leaned closer and kissed her. Y/n truly melted under his words and mostly under his touch and she decided that all the love she felt for him was stronger than her hurt ego and she could always deal with it later. But that day she allowed herself to be happy and to enjoy being back with her loving boyfriend.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames one shot #calgary flames writing #calgary flames imagines #nhl players imagine #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

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twopoppies · 3 years

Note

hi!! i looked in your fic rec MP and i didn't see it, so i thought I'd ask. i read In Vogue recently and LOVED it and then I've been binging project runway episodes (bc why not) and now I'm craving good fashion fics. maybe even a project runway one. have you read any good ones? and could you maybe rec some?

Hi sweetheart. Ohhh, I love that fic. And yes, I’ve got a few that have to do with fashion.

In Vogue by otpwhatever / @thecelineharry (M, 121K) This one is just….so much. The intensity of the characters, the crazy hot smut (oh god, the window scene), the FASHION, the angst (I had to take a walk around the block after reading it), the epic love story between two men who could rule the world if they could just figure their shit out. The fic has been deleted, but the link is to a download.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity (M, 31K) This author has written so many great fics and this one is really lovely. I also always like when one of the boys is not what he seems to be on first glance. There’s also a second part, told from Harry’s POV.

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (M, 20K) the characterizations and set up for this fic are sharp and funny, making this a really fun read. Plus there’s a lot of talk of Louis worshipping Harry’s thighs. LOL!

Fading by tothemoonmydear (M, 202K) Let me start by asking you to please read the tags on this one. It’s a very well-written fic, but it deals very graphically with Louis’ character’s eating disorder. At the time it was written some people felt it did not portray ED recovery accurately, so if the subject is at all triggering for you, please don’t read this one. Of that’s not an issue for you, make sure you have tissues ready because I ugly cried through almost all of this. I read it years ago and loved it at the time, but it’s not one I could handle reading twice.

sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint (E, 27K) I read this ages ago and my notes only say that it was “sweet and sexy”, which is not terribly helpful. But this author is a good one, in general, so I feel safe including it here.

The rest of these were suggested by @cuethetommo who generally likes the same sort of fics I do. I either haven’t read these, or don’t remember enough about them to have an opinion! 😆 But I trust her.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn (M, 15K)

"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

you pull me in by yoursongonmyheart (NR, 7K)

“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.

He’s going to kill them.

He’s really going to kill them.

Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.

“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.

“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.

------

//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.

This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is by LittleLostPieces (E, 15K)

Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing. And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn't what Louis is looking for in a potential partner. That’s all. He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes. His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants. They're not. Really.

swimming in a champagne sea by delsicle (E, 17K)

Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Life at Shutter Speed by zarah5 (E, 20K)

AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Special Topping by LoadedGunn (E, 20K)

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.

Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.

Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"

Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.

everywhere (i want to be with you) by itiswhatisbutterfly (E, 42K)

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen (E, 77K)

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”

“Ok. Go.”

[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]

#fashion fics #my fic rec #Larry fic rec

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2 - Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing, "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #Harry fic #harry styles au #ofc #reader insert #coworker!harry #office au #fluff #flirting #harry styles fluff

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novelconcepts · 3 years

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Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it.

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like?

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle.

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun.

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it.

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from.

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left.

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity.

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves.

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated.

She looked real.

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available.

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it.

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours.

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach.

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good.

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself.

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system.

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night?

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons.

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit.

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough.

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?”

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively.

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now.

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart.

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on.

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette.

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips.

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says.

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane.

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight.

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #okay I liked this one way more than planned #it's sort of nice doing a modern AU under a million words long

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