#[..which they probably brought to attention is pretty shitty for them to give her a body like that if she was canonically deaf but ykno] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles end of the day #harry styles x ill reader #harry styles x sick reader #harry styles x you

485 notes · View notes

lonely--seeker · 2 years

Text

Hey there @showergelfan hope you don't mind me ranting a bit ;;

Well it's... Complicated at least.

I can't talk for anyone else, i don't hate Nami or anyone who supports her, I'm clearly biased and the situation was messy enough, however over the years the more i think about it the more it hurts me! Maybe I've thought on it way more than necessary...

You can hate Sanji on any arc but Whole Cake. I'm sorry if I sound a bit salty.

One thing Nami is completely right about is that Sanji put her through hell, but i hate to disagree, most of it wasn't directly Sanji's fault and this bugs me specially since he was already blaming himself and she made him actively feel worse... Which was the point, but damn it made me feel sad!

I can only give her credit for being so brave as to accompany Luffy willingly when her usual reaction is to hide away at danger which does show she cares about him a lot! And she probably was pretty tired, scared and horrified at the moment the fight between two of her oldest friends happened, which is all reasonable and i feel very sorry for her.

But so was Sanji. Through the entirety of the arc it's like he's constantly kicked while down in the ground, he is abused mentally and physically restlessly, and I've heard so many people saying he was having a good time or that he was such a loser for just going after a girl, it makes me sick... Like are we seeing the same thing here? He actively shows how stressed and grossed he is, voicing all the time he doesn't wants anything to do there.

He was a hostage, Oda made it really good at setting the high stakes as to why he was so trapped. And part of that cage was made up by Sanji's state of mind.

By the way, I feel this moment doesn't gets the attention it should...

Just one more display Germa wouldn't hesitate to do worse things with any of Sanji's significant ones, and Judge has just been introduced... This just adds up to Sanji's distress along the sight of the laboratory and let's not even talk about what happened to Cossette after he tried to protect her, which could serve to further enforce the idea that in the end he was helpless, his futile efforts to resist only brought pain to inocents

Sanji choose to left without explaining so Nami has a reason for doubting and being confused, for all she knows he left the crew one day and the next time he said it was all an act, he never said a thing about being a prince and suddenly there he was all suited like royalty? He had siblings? Maybe it really was a all a lie. All of their efforts to get there looked stupid, ofc she can get angry! It is a shitty situation, and after the fight honestly that's what Sanji was looking for in the end he got just what he asked for...

But i get iffy on here, in one hand Nami knows him, knows his kindness and has been witness or the reason of some of his sacrificial moments, and also she's literally been through the same situation when she left the crew all the way back in Arlong Park, yeah she never really hurt Zoro or Usopp she should be able to sniff it out. I will give her the benefit of the doubt and say she was too overwhelmed at the moment, even if she didn't cared it would be half okay. This just hurts me in contrast with how mindful Sanji is towards her, he even was willing to go against Jinbe in Gyojin Island if Nami would have said so... Of course that doesn't means Nami should give him the same treatment at all, but hey ;; You can't tell me she didn't knew or meant her words to hurt Sanji, in my eyes that's what she was going for... Which is harsh considering all he's been doing, has been in the mindset that it was the only way to save all of them... But it could be fair considering how much he hurt Luffy, the difference being he wanted the crew to be safe even if it meant they had to leave him behind, while i don't know if Nami meant any good behind her actions. None of them are exactly good either way.

Up to this point it was mostly fine, I guess, drama and all i love good drama, and it was oddly satisfying to see this in an arc surrounded by arranged marriages, betrayals and all of that, a slap was just fitting. Emotions getting out of control and finally colliding.

But something i'd like to point out is that Sanji's face had already been hurt, at first by Judge and then most importantly by his brothers...

Remember the mask Reiju put on him to make the swelling go away, but not the pain, this was just before they met.

Yes he was still wearing it when Nami slapped him. It's funny how it shows Sanji's been putting on a mask, the only one who saw through it was Luffy... And its interesting considering he refused to hit him until he took it off.

When he does take the mask off it's to Pudding, after everything's been said and done, he explains again why it happened in detail. In case someone forgot.

Up to that point he thought he had sorted it out, believing Big Mom's promise to let his friends get away safely and even wishing them well without him, the amount of panels of him sitting by himself just going circles on his head are very emotional to me ;;

And i don't even have to talk about the devilish way that sweet moment of vulnerability was used against him when he heard Pudding not only making fun of him but nailing on everything he's been conscious about since his childhood, he realized way too late he fucked up for good, and might as well just die since he had nothing to live for.

I also think people don't really talk about how he thought he deserved to die along his family.

That it would be better for everyone else.

Sure he never explained things to Nami she didn't knew a thing about all of this, but I do and it's hurting me! What bothers me the most is that she still brings it up after he decides to come back, giving him the cold shoulder... It's like she mocks him telling "she won't let him rest"... Instead of maybe be interested on hearing him out? I don't know! Girl i think it's not the best thing to say right now, it's like going straight against Luffy's "Well that's just the way you are!" Sanji IS an idiot, but instead of saying something to encourage him or make him see it's safe to rely on her, she just... I won't forgive you... I'm not saying she can't be mad at him, but maybe a little add on would have gone a long way specially from her.

For all i know it would have been an interesting opportunity to make Sanji stand up for his feelings for once, instead of always enduring it, and it would be awesome to see them speaking directly even briefly, instead of the whole thing being washed away. But i know that will never happen.

I don't know what Nami was thinking about when she slapped him, i don't think she meant to cut ties she looked really confused as to what to do next but she wasn't nearly as hopeful as Luffy, maybe she never felt bad about doing it so it's just sad. And if this sounds like I'm pitying Sanji way too much, well maybe I am! I'm allowed to do so, Oda gave me permission.

It's complicated and I'll probably never find a middle point, both of their emotions are valid. I shouldn't be thinking who suffered more or who was willing to sacrifice more... But here I am!

Everyone in the crew deserves a good hug and they don't get it, istg Oda give me wholesome group hug.

#need to make this post shorter or otherwise i would end up just retelling whole cake #i know you cant be too picky with all the details #hmm thank you if you read through it #and sorry for my blabbering haha #leave my little mew mew alone he did nothing wrong #i said you know like a liar #one piece #me blabbering #my thoughts are all over the place anyways #Whole cake #op spoilers #probably

30 notes · View notes

aiiwa · 4 years

Text

FRESHMAN YEAR — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff / smut

⤷ warnings: cursing, mature content and themes, smut, oral (receiving and giving), unprotected sex

⤷ word count: 6.2k

— a/n: this was an anon request for a reader trying to sneak off away from iwa the morning after and he ain’t having none of that 😈

i had no intention of this being so long, but iwa just gets me going aight!!

freshman year of college had given you many things.

an unrivalled expertise in procrastination - avoiding the overwhelming influx of assignments from your professors was second-nature at this point; party now, cry later, right? carpe fucking diem, no? either way, it had also given you a liver which begged for a glass of water, a drop even, anything but the wretched burn of vodka and the copious amounts of iced lattes at three in the morning. and deities forbid your mother ever finding out her daughter lived off of spicy instant ramen that somehow was always on sale at the campus convenience store. you even considered the discounted prices stemmed from the store owners taking pity on you each time you stood before them counting loose change.

yet freshman year of college had also given you a best friend in the form of matsukawa issei. and hanamaki takahiro, since they were a package deal of course. but mattsun had been presented to you on a silver platter.

butt ass naked, just like the day he was brought into this world.

arriving on campus a week before the start of the first semester, the last thing you expected to see was a hunched over figure, bare ass mooning right in front of you, banging on the fragile door of your dorm. shaking out of your stupor, you had all but cussed him out in the corridor, earning more unnecessary attention from other nosy students, before you dragged him by his arm into your room. in the flurry of your attempted rescue, he’d dropped the hand that was holding whatever sliver of dignity he had left. you had even failed to realise how this strange boy was almost a foot taller than you, and rather being eye-to-eye, it was rather eye-to-waist - and you had made the mistake of glancing lower.

“yeah lil’ big mattsun is a looker, right?” you prayed everyday to forget his first words to you. the prayers had yet to be answered, though your initial reaction had made it somewhat alright to think back on.

you had screamed bloody murder, sending mattsun into a frenzied panic, his own screams harmonising yours. then you had cried, furiously rubbing at your eyes, and sobbing about how your eyes would never be the same again. when he had reached out to comfort you, that’s when you turned on him, jumping upwards to swat at his bony shoulders. after he tumbled over your rug, the two of you halted, eyeing each other before laughing like maniacs.

he left your dorm that day, running off in your pink fluffy robe with plans to meet up later for dinner. when he introduced you to the pink-haired makki - the reason behind mattsun’s nudity at your door, though the specifics were lost - the three of you hit it off like a bunch of crazies.

most days were spent between your dorm and their shared apartment; stress eating over forgotten assignments, binging shitty reality tv shows - the bachelor was just hitting different this season - and pre-gaming a bit too hard before nights out.

it had confused you at first on how, as much as you were over at their apartment, you had yet to meet their other roommate. makki had told you he was a close friend from back home in miyagi, the serious type who spent most of his time training, studying or working; and it was mattsun who had said he was a total mom, “he’s our mommy,” were his exact words, adding to the list of things you wish you could forget.

it was probably around two months into the semester, when you’d finally met their elusive third roommate.

that night mattsun, makki and you were in a rare state of focus, working diligently on your own respective papers, when they’d nominated you to heat up some frozen pizza to snack on. which is how you found yourself, grumbling, bent at the waist to place the pizza in the oven; ignorant to the jingling of keys, and heavyset footsteps entering the kitchen.

“well this is something new to come home to.”

you jolted at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, whacking the side of your skull on the edge of the counter in a haste to stand up to your full height. you cursed loudly, hand pressed against the throbbing pain in your head as you turned to glare at the culprit. though that was cut short, alongside your breathing, by the sexiest man alive you had ever laid your eyes on, entering your personal space.

he towered over you, not in the same way as mattsun or makki, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in brawn. your eyes greedily traced his body; the steel gray gym shirt clung to him like a second skin, eight slight dips outlining his abs and his wide chest. broad shoulders blocked your view from everything irrelevant behind him, and you watched, almost in slow motion, as his biceps flexed under the tight confines of his shirt sleeves, to reach out and place his much larger hand over yours. you felt every fibre in your being going into overdrive under his unexpected touch, and all he was doing was checking over the swelled up island on your forehead.

“are you alright, y/n?” your ovaries were quaking at the deep rasp of his voice- and wait, he knows your name? “you are y/n, right?” he asked, reading the confusion on your face. you nodded absentmindedly, raising your gaze to meet his own.

you groaned inwardly - who gave this man the right to a sexy body and to look this fucking good? taking in the handsome features of his face; wild crop of dark chocolate hair, smooth tanned skin, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, and the attractive straight of his nose. his lips were pouty, eyes slanted under shaped brows, olive hues peeking past his long dark lashes to stare at you.

he moved his hand away from the top of yours, the added warmth missed already; and took your lack of reply as a sign to introduce himself and apologise.

“i’m mattsun and makki’s roommate, iwaizumi hajime. sorry for scaring you.”

you were ready to drag mattsun and makki to hell and back for hiding this fine man- no, greek fucking god, from you all this time. in an attempt to compose yourself and avoid anymore embarrassment, you smiled, dopily, releasing an airy laugh while waving off the apology.

“i’m l/n y/n.”

amusement shifted over his features, a smirk painting over his lips as his eyes creased on the sides. you had to hold on tightly to the reigns forbidding you from openly swooning.

“i know.” he chucked lowly.

you had never wanted the ground to swallow you whole as much as then. the heat you could feel radiating off your cheeks was a clear sign of how embarrassed you were, making a complete fool of yourself in front of the man you were borderline prepared to request to be your future baby daddy. so when mattsun strolled in, casually greeting iwa and poking at the bump on your forehead, you hadn’t been more grateful for your best friend.

too bad it wasn’t enough to avoid the wrath you unleashed on him and makki later on; a series of kicks to their sides, and their own personal hell of listening to how badly you wanted to be split open on his dick.

thinking you had scared away the gorgeous iwaizumi, you were ready to be avoided at all costs. yet surprisingly, after that night, he was suddenly everywhere.

he joined in on your hangouts with the boys. group study sessions where you usually did more foolery than studying? iwa was there to knock all of you into gear. late night fast food runs to satisfy your cravings? iwa was driving, kicking mattsun and makki to the back of his jeep when they’d try to steal your designated seat next to him. and the parties he used to avoid? there he was stuck in the chaos of it all, holding your drink and glaring at anyone who dared to approach the two of you.

of course, iwa’s sudden involvement in your life hadn’t gone unnoticed by mattsun and makki - the two of you becoming their favourite victims to tease. and when his threats and your fists were no longer able to get them off your backs, iwa had taken to spending time with you, without them.

you liked to call them not-dates, even though it was just to parry the feelings rapidly developing for him.

going to the coffee shop you two often frequented so he could buy your favourite drink while you ranted about your shitty group presentation, was a not-date. taking him to the drive-in godzilla screenings every friday for five weeks, because you knew they were his favourite movies, was a not-date. him making you dinner every other night because your mom found out about your insane intake of instant ramen and blasted you during a video call while he was over, was a not-date.

as expected after months of this going on, your two best friends constantly called you out for your not-dates being actual dates. even one of your classmates took to informing you each time your ‘body builder boyfriend’ was waiting outside for you. but ignorance was bliss, and you were sure iwa didn’t feel that way towards you. at least that was until the day you had met oikawa tooru.

you noticed that iwa had been more than a bit apprehensive, as each day passed bringing his best friend’s return to japan closer and closer, though he wouldn’t explain why. yet it seemed it was over nothing, since you and oikawa got along great, even if he did comment every other second on you and iwa’s closeness. meeting the pretty setter had been like placing the missing puzzle piece in the dynamic with your favourite boys.

after a loud lunch with the four boys, oikawa had pulled you in for a tight hug as iwa was about to drop you off to your afternoon class for that day.

“iwa-chan talks about you all the time, y/n-chan, but he’s a dum-dum so forgive him for being slow, alright!” he had whispered in your ear, before pulling away with a mischievous glint in his mocha coloured eyes. “iwa-chan you sly dog! keeping y/n all to yourself, hmm? maybe i should just take her back with me to argentina- wait, iwa-chan, i’m sorry! don’t chase me! gah!”

after that, you started to accept the fact that maybe what was once simply physical attraction, had turned into a deep affection for iwaizumi. the only issue was that, like oikawa said, iwa was a dum-dum, and he didn’t mention anything from what oikawa said that day or his extreme reaction to oikawa’s teasing. hell, you didn’t even know if he even realised that the way he treated you, which was very much a stark contrast to how he treated others, was him subconsciously wooing you.

so the not-dates continued, and you inevitably fell deeper and deeper for sweet, oblivious iwa.

the semesters flew by, it was finally the end of freshman year; exams completed, life instantly renewed, and you were ready to attend the shit show of an end-of-year finisher tonight. the plans were for you to drive over to the boys’ apartment, pre-game like never before, and then head off to the party. so you were surprised when your phone pinged with a string of messages from the group chat.

stepping out of the elevator, the click clack of your laced-up stilettos echoed in the tiled corridor, as you made your way towards the boys’ apartment. the better part of you was suspicious of mattsun and makki’s sudden change of plans; though it was shot to the back of your mind as you raised a manicured hand to tap against their door.

shifting around a bit, you didn’t have to wait long before the door was yanked open.

“y/n.” iwa greeted you with a lopsided grin.

you couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped your glossy lips at the sight of him.

an arm was held above his head, bicep flexing as his hand rested on top of the door frame, the other scratching the back of his thick neck. the rich scent of his cinnamon cologne, mixed with the musk of his aftershave wafted around you; as your eyes followed the droplet from his damp hair, sliding down the side of his jaw on to his bare shoulders. now, shirt-wearing iwa was incredible, with his collection of monotone coloured shirts that always seemed a size too small; but shirtless iwa? had you frothing at the mouth.

you dared your eyes to move lower, skirting over the delicious sight of his bare chest, and willing yourself to commit every stretch of him to memory. the taut muscles of his stomach tightened as you drank them in, the deep v indents cut around his hips, and your eyes followed over the fuzzy trail of dark hair that disappeared underneath the waistband of his jeans that sat dangerously low.

and while your mouth ran dry, you couldn’t say the same thing about the situation between your legs; pressing your thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure.

“iwa, uh...the boys...said to come over, change of plans.” was all you were able to choke out. physically you were standing before him, but mentally you were writhing under him.

“i know, they left a while ago.” he replied, the corner of his pretty mouth tugged upwards. “i’m almost ready to go, come inside.”

he already took up the entire space of the door frame, and when he only moved a bit to the side, you were forced to slip through the tiniest of gaps; shivering as your shoulder grazed against his own. standing in the middle of the hallway, you heard the soft click of the door closing, before iwa turned to face you.

you could feel the intoxicating heat radiating off his body spread across your own. the two of your were so close in each other’s space, chest to chest, and even in heels, you still only reached just under his jaw. when you glanced up to look at him, you swore you had caught his olive eyes lingering on the exposed skin of your breasts, before they moved to meet yours.

something different swirled in the depths of iwa’s eyes, something you had never witnessed before. something kin to a wolf staring at its lamb; a hunger so strong, so...fuck...

“you look beautiful, y/n.”

the compliment strikes you in surprise, feeling the flush rise up in your face, and the fluttering in your stomach. you could feel the pounding of your heart beat, drumming in your ears; watching his adam’s apple bob slowly, as he moved his hand to brush away the hair covering your neck. naturally you leaned into his touch.

“iwa…?” you whispered out to him in slight confusion.

“this dress on you...driving me crazy,” he starts, before cutting himself off with a groan. “sorry, y/n, i-i think i overstepped.” he tries to move his hand away from your neck, but you wrap your fingers around his wrist.

oikawa’s voice ran through your mind in a fleeting memory- ‘...forgive him for being slow, alright!’

“are you drunk, iwa?”

“what? no...i haven’t...i’m sober.”

“that’s good then.”

“y/n? good for what?”

“it’s good because then you can show me.” your fingers reach out to flitter over the ridges of his stomach. “won’t you show me how my dress drives you crazy, iwa?”

the surge of courage coursing through your veins, to be able to call him out like you had wanted to for months and seasons, was all it took for iwa to lose the composure he always kept up around you.

without hesitation, the big hand on your neck tugs you right into him; tits pushed together against his chest, as he dips his head to press his lips against yours.

the kiss is far from simple; there’s no room for it, months of pining won’t allow sweet and slow. your hand slides over his broad shoulder, to pull at the dark tufts at the nape of his neck; mouth slanting over his, tongues brushing against each other sensually. you explore his mouth, tasting him, while his hands squeeze over the curves of your body, eliciting a moan once he grabs at the fullness of your ass. you push up against him further, the hard tent in his pants straining against your belly.

“more, iwa, please...need more.” you pant against his lips.

“i got you baby, don’t worry.” he kisses you again, slower, with just as much passion. bending at the knees, and hiking the end of your dress up under your ass, he grabs at the silky underside of your thighs to lift you up into him - ankles locked at the bottom of his spine. he’s carrying you like nothing, and the amusing thought of his arms not only being for show flies through your head before you’re gasping.

the feeling of being pulled flush against him, the damp heat of your clothed pussy grinding against his bare stomach, has you keening for more. he groans loudly at the feeling of your slick coating his skin, and you jostle about as he begins walking through the hallway and towards his bedroom. as your sucking gently on his tongue, he carries you into his room, kicking the door closed behind him.

once his knees hit the edge of his mattress, he gently lowers you to lay down before him on your back. he hovers over you, the lewd swirling of your tongues has your head spinning before he moves from your mouth to latch onto your neck.

“ah, iwa- fuck,” you moan as his teeth grazed your sweet spot. he rolls his hips into you, spreading your legs to accommodate him more, while tugging at the ribbons of your heels. “what about...the party?”

sitting up from you, he grips your legs, sliding you right into him. through heavy lidded eyes, you watch as he takes in your disheveled appearance, a smirk taking over his features.

“fuck the party.” his large palms work the straps of your dress down, exposing your perfect tits; he groans at the sight, leaning down to take a pebbled nipple into his hot mouth. “this night is for me and you, baby.”

you weren’t necessarily a morning person, so living in the dorms, had been a relatively easy decision to make. you had a room to yourself, away from trees allowing a nice view of the campus grounds, and subsequently circumventing the annoying chirping of nested birds. you even added blackout curtains to block out the morning sun.

so when you were woken up by the itching burn of the sunrise on your stomach and your ears ringing with incessant twittering, you groaned loudly.

burying your face deeper into the fluffy pillow under your head, you were squirming under the heavy weight resting over half your body; irritation growing with your inability to get comfortable. peeking an eye open, blinking away the sleep clouding your vision, you took in the sight of a sleeping iwaizumi snuggled between the valley of your breasts. as you became more aware of your body and its surroundings, you felt the panic settling in.

as if he could sense your consciousness, the arm wrapped around your waist gave you a squeeze as he mumbled incoherently. “mmm, baby...y/n...feels good…” his hand slid down the side of your thigh, goosebumps following his fingertips, before it rested on your inner thigh; and he was drifting back to sleep.

you had to shove your fist against your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.

part of you was in denial that last night had actually happened. you, l/n y/n, had spent the night with the iwaizumi hajime - man of your literal dreams, who you had fallen so deeply for. and you had spent it having sex.

raw. nasty. passionate. earth-shattering. sex.

“fuck.” you whispered to yourself. “how could i be so stupid?” you were cursing yourself internally, certain you had fucked up everything you had built in your friendship with iwa - there was honestly no coming back from what transpired between you two.

and with your fight-or-flight response triggered, there was only one thing for you to do right now - get the fuck out of there.

maneuvering your body from underneath iwa’s big arm, without waking him up was a feat in itself. doing so with the way your muscles ached with each motion was on another level. sliding one foot after the other out from under his charcoal bed sheets, you pushed yourself up to sit.

looking behind you at iwa’s sleeping figure, you felt yourself swooning. half lying on his side, with his cotton sheets draped over his waist, you couldn’t help but admire him. his mouth was slightly open, his big arms cuddling the pillow you were laying on, and the smooth skin of his tanned back were tainted with red, angry marks. gulping audibly, your eyes dragged down to the prominent outline of his half-hard cock.

pushing himself up by his forearms, the desperation swimming in his eyes was begging for your touch. you grazed your teeth across his chest, biting at his hardened nipples teasingly, before moving further down from his lap while your tongue drew circles around the dips of his taut abdomen.

“y/n, don’t tease me.”

you smirked at his order, sucking on his skin and pressing wet kisses on his hip bones, before leaning back. he watched you eagerly as your dainty fingers tugged at his belt buckle clumsily, lifting himself up he could slip out of his jeans.

“can’t wait to have your cock in my mouth.” you cooed, eyes starstruck at the tent in his boxer briefs, wet patch dampening at its peak. hooking your finger under the waistband, you hastily yanked the briefs down to free him, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. “fuck you’re so big, haji.”

he was easily the biggest you’ve seen, ever had the chance of pleasuring - so thick, so long, and so fucking beautiful.

you didn’t bother to dwell on the taste of his name on your lips, when you were too busy tasting the essence leaking from his angry, swollen tip. you could barely wrap your hands around the base of his cock, as you pressed a sweet kiss on the head, pre cum coating your lips, before taking it in your hot mouth, suckling gently.

the groan he releases is animalistic, and his hips buck upwards to shove his cock deeper in your mouth. pressing your hand at his navel to keep him steady, you continue sucking harshly, almost painfully, before lowering your head down. his cock slides down your throat, inch by inch, as tears prick at your eyes and you can feel your drool drop on the thumb massaging his balls. he blocked your airways, but fuck breathing when the look on his face when you take all of him in your mouth like a good girl is so, so perfect.

steadily bobbing your head, you feel every inch of him down your throat; tongue swirling around his length, and he twitches every time you trace the thick vein on the underside of his cock. you suck faster and harder as iwa reaches a hand out to feel around your throat.

“fuck, baby, i can feel me in your throat. so fucking good, just like that.” he hisses out, choking up when you begin to hum. “mmm fuck- ah, shit! gonna cum baby! fuck!”

yanking away your hand you hadn’t realised was brushing around your neck as the vision of him disappeared from your thoughts, you stood up, a bit unsteady on your feet at first. you could still taste him, as you ran your tongue over the hood of your mouth.

knowing you were getting distracted, you shook your head gently, pushing your hair away from your face. you needed your clothes, so glancing around, taking note of the strips of clothing scrambled in his room - your eyes caught the baby pink of your lace panties hanging from his bedside lamp.

one second you were swallowing his cock down your throat, and the next he had torn the rest of your dress off and had you laid out in front of him.

iwa made fast work in manhandling you the way he wanted. stretching his legs straight beside you, he pulled you right into him; you gasped as he lifted you up by your waist, practically folding you with the underside of your thighs tucked under the bulk of his arms, knees by your shoulders, and your lower back pressed right against his heaving chest. he was hunched over you, wrapping you fully in his embrace, while you were spread out right in his face.

“you soaked right through your pretty panties, baby.” leaning down, he presses his nose right into your clothed heat, making you squirm, as he breathes you in. “fuck, you smell so sweet, i wanna eat you up real good.”

“i-iwa.” you whined, staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you pressed the side of your face into the mattress.

“no, no baby. when we’re like this…” he starts, reaching a hand to tear the thin, and expensive, material right off of you. before you have a chance to complain, his hot breath blows on your drooling pussy, tight hole clenching around nothing in anticipation. “...you’ll say my name.”

“h-hajime, please, haji.” you beg, feeling embarrassed at how exposed you were. he could see everything, do anything to you as he pleased, and you would just let him. so when he presses his heavy tongue flat against your slit, licking all the way up to your throbbing clit; you can’t help but dig your finger nails into his toned calves beside you. “ah- yes! mmm...haji, oh-!”

sucking on your clit, he digs his fingers into your thighs, deeper and deeper in response to your whiny moans for more. he hums against you, mumbling about how sweet you taste, how much he can’t get enough of your flavour, and you can feel him getting hard again - grinding against your back. he slides his tongue between your folds, slurping you up so good, that it’s no surprise you’re teetered over the edge.

“haji! oh, oh fuck! ah yes!” the waves of you cumming hits hard as your pussy gushes all over the lower half of his face. “daddy! s-so good, f-fuck!”

still up in the clouds from your high, calling him daddy flies over your head, but isn’t missed by iwa. you watch, dazed, as he moves away from your pussy, a lewd string of silver connects his mouth to you, his chin glistening with your juices. reaching around your trembling thighs, his thumbs spread your lips so he can get an ever better view of your sopping cunt.

“i knew you’d be my good baby and say my name.” he grins, before leaning back down to you and delving his tongue right in your pussy, tongue-fucking you slowly and massaging your slick walls, his nose nudging your sensitive clit. “now come again in daddy’s mouth.”

heat pooled between your legs as you stretched, ignoring the iwa-sized hand prints painted purple across your thighs, while you thought about him and the magic his mouth performed. waddling to his side table - you examined the remnants of your panties; the pretty pink lace was all but shredded, and you hopelessly threw the material in the trash.

“fucking hell, iwa.” the glare you aimed his way, softened drastically as you took in his sleeping figure. sighing, you turn and spot what may be your dress halfway under his bed.

shuffling over, you crouch, the burn in your thighs making itself even more known and forcing your eyes to shut in a grimace.

the way iwa’s cock filled your little cunt felt while you rode him was incredible. nothing could ever compare to the way he was ruining you from the inside out, and you were sure nothing would ever come close. his big hands palmed your ass while you were bouncing up and down on his length, your belly jutting out every time he was sheathed inside you, your thighs tremored each time they slapped against his.

“fuck, daddy! feels...mmm…wanna cum, please!” your tongue was lolling out of your mouth, as fucked yourself on his cock, digging crescent moon shapes into his shoulder blades. one of his hands remained firmly on your ass, while fingers of the other reached around to pinch your clit.

with a scream you came undone, creaming all over his still-hard cock, and collapsing forward onto his sweaty chest. you whimpered, while he continued to fuck up into your used pussy. despite the tears threatening to fall down your flushed cheeks; you mewled for more.

“shh, baby,” iwa hummed into your neck, you could feel his grin against your skin, peppering kisses as you leaned into him. “daddy’s gonna make you feel even better.”

his thick arms wrapped almost painfully in a death grip around your exhausted body, as he locked his legs and angled himself into your pussy; fucking deep inside you, and hitting your cervix with each stroke. you came again, harder, legs quivering as your insides spasmed; this time joined by his orgasm, as the mixture of his cum was stuffed inside you.

your eyes shot open, breathing slightly laboured. it hadn’t even been a day, only mere hours, and the way iwa had taken over your mind was slowly driving you insane. dropping to your knees, you reached out to grab at your dress, having to slide the top half of your body under the bed.

that sound of iwa’s big hand slapping your ass while he pounded into you from behind, rung in your ears, but the sting and the pleasure was all your fucked out brain could comprehend. he was absolutely relentless with his too-big cock, tearing into you.

on all fours, you arched your back more to accommodate him. each thrust had him bottoming out in your already leaking pussy.

“fuck baby, just like that, mmm- push back into me.”

everything just felt too fucking good. the harsh pace of his strokes had you blabbering, moaning about how good he felt into the mattress.

“don’t stop! oh fuck, please don’t stop haji!”

but you felt his pace begin to slow just as you were about to climax, and when you tried to move back on him his grip on your waist tightened. with ease, he flipped you on your back, almost skewering you on his cock still inside you. hooking the backs of your knees over his elbows as he leaned over you, his full weight folding your body underneath him, as he wove his fingers with yours into the mattress above your head.

“look at my fat cock sliding into that sweet cunt, baby.” iwa grunts. his arms strained, holding his weight up from crushing you, as he teased your sloppy hole. “fuck, you take me so good, baby.”

you whimpered, looking at the connection between the two of you. with a roll of his hips, you watched as his cock slid into your silky walls, the lewd sound of you squelching with every stroke had you arching up, wanting him deeper in your tummy as you gushed around him.

unlike before when his thrusts were rough, filled with raw feral passion; it was now slow, sensual and so fucking sexy. and when you met his gaze, as he continued to grind into you, gripping your fingers tightly between his; it felt as though he was trying to tell you something.

that intense emotion swirling deep in his olive gaze was searing, burning through you from the inside out. everything unsaid between the two of you. but soon enough your orgasm hit you harder than ever, pleasure electric under your heated skin.

“haji, haji, haji- oh, fuck yes!” you chanted his name like a prayer.

“y/n, baby, fuck i love you-“ he moans out, strokes becoming sloppy. “wanted this...for so long- shit, i’m cumming baby!”

snatching your dress from under the bed, you sat on your knees at the foot of his bed, thinking over everything you just wanted to ignore for the time being. you almost wish you could forget he had told you he loved you. how could you possible believe those three words while he was at the pinnacle of his pleasure?

suddenly the shrill ringtone of iwa’s phone blasted next to him. scrambling to your feet, you snatched the phone; fingers mashing the screen to cut off the sound before he woke up.

“what?” you hissed, holding the phone to your ear as you glanced at iwa. you thanked whichever gods were watching over you that he was still fast asleep.

“oho? y/n-chan? is that you~?” nevermind, the gods were out for you.

“tooru?”

“the one and only!” you winced at the smug teasing in his tone. “i was hoping to speak to iwa-chan, but i heard he was a naughty boy last night!”

“uh...what?”

“as in i literally heard him, and you, last night when i came back to the apartment!” oikawa recalls in a sing-song voice, rambling on about how he was here to surprise the two of you. “i always knew our dear iwa-chan had a daddy kink!”

placing the phone between your ear and your shoulder, you attempted to fit your dress over you, while oikawa continued on his spiel of how it took way too fucking long for the two of you to do something about the sexual tension. you had no chance to even peep a word in.

“damn baby, now this view i could definitely get used to.”

you almost shrieked, bumping into iwa’s naked body, and tripping over the dress dropped around your ankles. you had no idea he’d woken up, sneaking right up behind you in all his naked fucking glory; forcing you to try your hardest not to eye his cock standing at full attention.

“is that iwa-chan?!” oikawa all but screams into the phone. iwa raises a questioning brow, hearing his best friend on the other line. “tell him to be good and wrap it up! no glove, no love!”

you had no business feeling embarrassed at the brat king’s words, while iwa snatched his phone away from you.

“too late for that, shittykawa.” oikawa’s screeches are the last thing you hear before iwa ends the call.

you almost dare to chuckle at the thought of oikawa’s reaction; but falter under iwa’s stare. it’s the same look he gives mattsun or makki when they’re in trouble, but it’s mixed in with the same scorching look from last night, and you shift on your feet nervously, wrapping your arms across your chest.

“going somewhere?” iwa gruffs out, the raspiness of his morning voice had you tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“um, home…?” the uncertainty was clear in your voice, especially as he scowled when you mentioned leaving. “iwa, i-”

“oh so it’s iwa now?” he cuts you off, taking a step closer into your space. “i liked it when you called me haji, though daddy follows closely after that.”

you gasp when a thick arm snakes around your waist, pulling you up against him. his other hand caresses your cheek so sweetly, before he grabs your jaw to tilt your face up to his, taking your lips with his own. the kiss is gentle, soft lips moving against your own as his tongue brushes yours sweetly. you’ve fully melted in his hold, eyes still closed when he breaks the kiss.

“i meant what i said last night, y/n.” he whispers against your mouth. “i love you.” your eyes shoot open, and you can feel your heart trying to beat itself out of your chest.

“i-i love you too.” you murmur back, and the smile he gives you has you ready to combust right before him. after all this time, a party had been the reason you finally admitted your feelings for him.

“now come back to bed.” you squeal as he lifts you up and over his shoulder, the grip he takes on your inner thigh is ticklish making you squirm about. “i’m gonna cuddle you back to sleep, and then when we wake up i’m gonna take you out on a date, okay baby?”

you giggle as he tosses you back on his fluffy mattress, dropping himself right on top of you and nuzzling his face into the dip between your neck and shoulder. running your hands softly over the muscled panes of his back, one reaches out to thread your fingers in the tufts of dark hair at his nape.

“okay, haji.”

freshman year had given you a lot of things, but iwaizumi hajime was the best thing yet. you couldn’t wait to see what sophomore year had in store for you.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi imagine #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu college au #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa tooru #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#iwa x reader

1K notes · View notes

cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Anything

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 10,418

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @gallickingun, @mirakumiruku, @wakaoujisenhime, @sunnieskies02, @hisoknen

Art in banner by me.

This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased.

That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for.

Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy.

Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink.

Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable.

Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever.

Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool.

Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know.

That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?

You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably.

Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything!

“Bakugou-!”

The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--

“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…”

“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.

“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?”

Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?”

“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?”

“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.”

“I bet I could guess.” “You’d fucking fail, moron-”

“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.

“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.”

“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it?

“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!”

Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare.

Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care.

Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up.

“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously.

“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed.

“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.”

“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him.

It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him.

There wasn’t anything else you could do.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face.

“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?”

B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported.

Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance.

With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left.

But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you?

Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you.

Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight.

This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff!

Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there?

Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!

Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt.

You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear.

“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.”

“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin.

“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?”

His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-”

“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.”

“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips.

“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.”

“What are… Are you going to kick me out?”

“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?”

“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.”

“Then what are you doing with my clothes?”

An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself.

“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.”

“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?”

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day.

“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.”

You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.”

“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.”

“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?”

“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…”

“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true.

But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you?

“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl.

“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.”

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?”

A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”

“Get on your knees.”

Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?”

“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you.

“All the way up on your knees.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing.

“What are you looking at, babe?”

Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?

“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.”

Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor.

Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared.

“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.”

Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue.

Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t!

You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it?

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.”

Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache.

Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this?

Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.”

The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work?

“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer.

Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat.

Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous.

You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.”

Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way.

“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel.

I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--

Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip.

You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick.

“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!”

“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?”

Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today?

It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it!

“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans.

“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?”

“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit.

“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips.

“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.”

The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred.

“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks.

“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips.

“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest.

“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.”

“N-no, it was just--”

“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!”

You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life.

“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?”

“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!”

“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it.”

At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!”

When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined.

“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!”

“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain.

“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could.

Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked.

“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--”

“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper.

“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.”

With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release.

Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other.

For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks.

Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?”

Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--”

“--Katsuki!”

His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.”

“Right. I… should I leave now?”

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.”

Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!”

Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute.

“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!”

For now…?

Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?”

“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.”

Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side.

“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?”

The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?

“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.”

“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick.

“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair.

“H-he told me I looked fine!”

“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.”

“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.”

“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.”

With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.”

“I will…”

“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone.

Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was.

In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again?

Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers.

Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.

Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you.

“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”

He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?

Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki?

Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party?

3K notes · View notes

rwprincess · 3 years

Text

Midnight Sun'd Prologue (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 10.5K (She like...20 pages long. Sorry).

Synopsis: My movie/Canon Prologue, but from Brian’s POV. That’s right, I’m Midnight Sun-ing this b*tch.

CW: Underage marijuana smoking, suicidal ideation, self-deprecating thoughts/self-doubt, low self-esteem, swearing, child abuse, parents being terrible, sexuality (since this is based on the movie, nothing is really outside the scope of the movie in terms of content).

Saturday, March 24th, 1984

Shermer High School, Shermer Illinois

Brian knew why he was here. In fact, he thanked his lucky stars that Saturday school, or detention, rather, had been his punishment. If this hadn’t been an extremely out-of-character first offense for him, he surely would have been suspended, or even expelled. His family had made their disappointment clear, especially when his mother told him to find a way to study and make amends today, even if he was asked to just sit in a room with strangers and reflect on what he did. When he arrived in the library, he was surprised to see Claire Standish already sitting there. She, of course, did not look up or make eye contact with him, but he chose to sit at the table behind her nonetheless. Before he could gather the courage to ask her what a popular, polished girl like herself could possibly be doing here, another two figures approached the doorway. Andrew Clark’s large, stocky frame loomed there for a moment before excitedly spying Claire. Again, no attempt was made to include Brian; he was practically invisible at this school, which was a big part of his underlying problems and self esteem here at Shermer High. It wasn’t so much that Brian wanted or needed popular people like Claire or Andrew to notice him. He didn’t really look up to them or desire their attention. It was just that, sometimes, it felt like everyone looked through him, as though he wasn’t even there. Adults acknowledged him, sure. He was polite and an overachiever, the perfect student. But his peers didn’t take much stock in him. He had a few loyal, true friends, but rarely did anyone outside of his particular interest groups reach out to him.

As Brian settled into a seat behind Claire, he took note of the second figure who had entered, the one who came in shortly after Andrew. It was her. Brian had to restrain himself from gawking when she entered the library, as she was one of the absolute last people he could ever picture earning a detention. Brian knew her from his English class last year; he had been stunned by her beauty the moment she entered the room that first day of high school and felt the same nervous, heart-pounding sensation he felt now, seeing her enter the library. He lamentably had zero classes with her this year, but he would see her in the hallways sometimes and that old familiar feeling would come rushing back to him, reminding him of the crush he had on her all last year. Back then, he had sat behind her, across the room and would catch himself staring at her or admiring her answers and volunteered opinions. His strong suit was in the more concrete subjects: science, math, that sort of thing. So the insightful analyses she would give always impressed him, and through them he got the sense that she was smart but also kind. This was precisely why he was shocked to see her here now, having earned the same consequence he had for bringing a weapon into school. But he couldn’t imagine her doing anything like that, anything to warrant this. He not-so-discreetly watched her as she hurried across the room and took a seat in the front row opposite to him. She, like Claire and Andrew, had not made eye contact or acknowledged him. Her seeing right through him hurt more, though.

Brian had sat down, but had not quite unpacked as he was still reeling from the revelation of Y/N being in the same detention as him, and that meant he would be in the same room as her for nine hours. He hadn’t even noticed John Bender stalk into the library, surveying the landscape that he was clearly king of. That is, until Bender stopped in front of him and snapped his fingers to get his attention and indicated for him to move out of his seat. Even if Brian weren’t the type to try to accommodate someone, a people pleaser, he would have followed John Bender’s instructions. Everyone in school knew of his reputation, and while some things were probably a lie (like throwing flaming toilet paper over Mrs. Applebaum’s house), some were definitely true, including his penchant for getting into fights. Brian had never had to fight someone before and he was pretty sure he lacked the capability to do so. Simply put: he would get his ass kicked. So he got up immediately and moved to the next seat over...right behind Y/N. He noticed that she stiffened, sat up straighter, as he slid into the seat behind her. So she had noticed his existence. But from her body language, he assumed that she didn’t particularly enjoy his presence. ‘Great. Perfect way to start this whole shitty day,’ he thought. At one point, Brian would have fancied himself an optimist, but lately that attitude was all but gone...not that his current situation helped much.

He also noticed the girl with black clothes, heavy makeup, and messy hair quickly walk along the outside of the tables and sit behind him, facing away from not only himself, but the entire group. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, ‘Should be an interesting time,’ he thought while taking stock of her, Bender, the populars, and...Y/N. It still puzzled him that she could be here. Bender made total sense. Everyone knew that he practically lived here in detention. Based on how she looked and seemed to make herself comfortable, Brian guessed that the girl behind him also was a regular here. While he didn’t exactly expect Claire or Andy to be here, he wasn’t hugely shocked by it. Claire probably skipped school or was rude to a teacher or something and Andrew was an asshole anyway. He fit into the jock stereotype pretty well, all brawn and no brains, picking on those that he saw as weaker than him. Maybe that’s why he was here.

Vice Principal Vernon walked haughtily in, looking down on each and every one of them; a lord surveying his fiefdom. Brian’s posture stiffened as he both tried to show respect and unconsciously showed his fear of the man. The last conversation with him had also involved his parents and that was abhorrent, a total disaster. The recollection of the event made him nauseous. Right after he spoke, Claire raised her hand, “Excuse me sir, I think there’s been a mistake. I know it’s detention, but, um...I don’t think I belong in here.” Internally, Brian rolled his eyes. He didn’t really know Claire (he suspected that no one really truly did), but he had always been under the impression that she was full of herself. All of the popular clique seemed to be that way, just full of arrogance. And here she was announcing how she was better than all of them in front of them. Vernon completely ignored her statement and told them it was 7:06, on the dot. Brian quickly looked down at his watch and aligned it to Vernon’s time. He was very particular about organization and precision.

As Vernon started his speech about rules, Brian tried to shift slightly over, get comfortable. But Vernon looked right into him and Brian could swear he saw into the depths of his soul as he said, “You will not move from these seats,” and pointed right at him. He froze like a deer in the headlights and quickly moved back. Brian had almost always blindly followed authority and now was definitely not the time to change that. Vernon continued and Brian only half-listened, looking around to gauge how the rest of the group was reacting, until he heard him say, “Good. So, maybe you’ll decide whether or not you care to return-” He saw this as the perfect time to redeem himself and started to stand up, raising his hand.

“Um, you know, I can answer that right now, sir. And that would be a no for me-”

“Sit down, Johnson.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brian sat back down, gulping. His embarrassment was only made worse noticing that Y/N had turned around to look at him when he started speaking. He wasn’t so invisible now, just his luck.

*~~~~*

There was little to no surprise that Bender antagonized the group. His main targets seemed to be Claire and Andrew, but he was making snide or crude remarks to everyone, and this made Brian very uneasy. He hated conflict and confrontation, which was probably why he had brought a flare gun to school rather than talk to his Shop teacher about replacing his failing grade or talk to his parents about how much he was truly struggling. He tried to take his mom’s advice about just doing work. He tried to convince the others to just write their assigned essays and not end up in a fight, but it didn’t work. He reasoned that he could at least do the right thing, but he couldn’t help but keep getting drawn into their conversations. It was almost like watching a trashy soap opera...or a staged wrestling match. “Go to hell!” Claire screamed at Bender, and Brian looked nervously to the door. Vernon surely heard that and would come storming back in, right?

But he didn’t, so Andy continued their conversation and got in a new dig at Bender, “You know, Bender, you don’t even count. If you disappeared forever it wouldn’t make any difference. You may as well not even exist anymore.” Brian gulped, thinking about his recent and frequent thoughts about how he himself ‘may as well not even exist anymore.’ He was doing...okay since the day he had had a semi-plan to take his own life, but the feelings didn’t just stop. He was still failing Shop, of all classes. He was still a disappointment and burden to his parents. He was still invisible at school, to Y/N. None of that went away when Mr. Ryan found the gun in his locker. Bender turned Andrew’s comment around and said he’d go out and join some clubs.

Now, Brian saw his opportunity to be less invisible, maybe. “I’m in a math club!” He blurted out. No dice. Bender and Claire just continued bickering, ignoring him completely. But he couldn’t help it when he stated “I’m in the Physics Club, too,” in their direction just hoping, praying that someone would acknowledge him. He hadn’t counted on that person being Y/N, though. She’d turned slightly towards him and his blue eyes flickered to hers and he froze. Having been lost in the argument between the others, he had almost forgotten that she was there. She gave him a gentle smile and a nod that made him gulp. He’d suddenly failed to remember how to breathe, how to function and his mind was only filled with a channel of ‘Oh shit. She’s looking at me.’

But then she added, “I’m in the Drama Club.” Of course, he knew that, but it was still nice for her, of all people, to be making conversation with him. He was immediately forced to snap out of it, though, when Bender addressed him.

“Excuse me a sec. What are you babbling about?” While Brian hated the look John gave him (it was much too similar to his parents’ frustrated looks when he was clearly ‘bothering’ them with something), Brian felt compelled to answer. He had wanted to be noticed, to be involved in the conversation, right?

“Well, what I’d said was, I’m in the Math Club, the Latin Club, uh, and the Physics Clu-Physics Club,” he stumbled through his words nervously. He felt regret instantly as Bender turned it around as a slight on Claire, and also managed to insult him by calling him a dork in the process. Still, he yearned for his attention and approval, so he eagerly answered John’s follow up questions. He just wanted to get along with everyone and have them accept him, and even though John was just using his input as ammunition against Claire, he liked that he was at least being included.

*~~~~*

It was a long, dragging morning. It was only around 10AM and topics of conversation seemed to already run out. Everyone was now more or less keeping to themselves. At first, Brian thought about writing his essay, as he said he planned to, but why bother? There were still many hours to fill, and how was he possibly supposed to answer the prompt of Who Am I? He truly did not know. He’d actually been pondering that a lot lately. All of his life he was praised for his smarts, but the ‘real world’ was showing him that that didn’t mean jack shit. Sure, he could understand difficult concepts and dissect complex equations, but that meant nothing if he couldn’t apply it. He thought he was taking the easy way out with Shop. It was meant to be a class he didn’t have to worry about; a stress-free A to keep his GPA up while juggling various clubs and volunteer opportunities to put on his college applications next year. But it ended up being a total nightmare. He was absolutely terrible at it, and he had never failed at anything before. Now the burn-outs and underachievers had the upper hand and were able to make their projects work and look good and he had...nothing. He failed so miserably that it tanked his self-esteem and now he was stuck in an identity crisis. It was much too early on a Saturday to confront those demons, so instead he chose to sit and daydream. And subconsciously, as with many teenage boys, his attention fell to girls. As much as he thought Claire was self-centered and spoiled, he had to admit that she was attractive. She carefully curated herself to be so. She had perfect, beautiful red hair that was never out of place, flawless makeup, perfectly fitting chic clothes...and she was staring into space licking and biting her lip, which had him completely flustered. Y/N only added to it by adjusting and stretching in her seat. Her beauty was more effortless than Claire’s, or at least seemed less...intentional. She did not have the designer clothes and her hair was more natural than trendy but alluring in her own right, and the way she was pushing her chest out was not helping. He could feel the shift and tightness in his khakis and tried to nonchalantly clear his throat, but now Y/N was turned three-quarters around and could clearly see him, so he tried to sneak his hat into his lap and acted like nothing was going on by setting his head on the desk. ‘Oh shit. Oh fuck.’ were the chorus of his thoughts as he could see her quickly turn back around and face forward. ‘I’m sure she thinks I’m a creep now. Great going, Johnson,’ he chastised himself.

Vernon was almost a welcome sight when he strode into the library at 10:20 to allow them to use the “lavatory.” Brian almost let out a sigh of relief. Almost. When they returned to the library and it was clear that Vernon wouldn’t return for a while, Bender started ripping up a book and when he threw it at Brian, the latter took that as his cue to walk away. He spotted Y/N looking through the catalogue of books and approached her. “Hey.” He nodded in her direction, trying to play it cool and seem neutral. ‘Smooth. Great opening,’ he thought. But to his surprise, she actually said ‘Hi’ back and smiled. He had no idea what to talk about and didn’t really think this through, but the black-clad girl let out a startling, “HA!” that made them both jump.

Brain looked back to the others and heard Andrew sarcastically say, “Oh, you’re breaking my heart,” to Claire.

“Sporto?” Bender asked, “Do you get along with your parents?” Brian started to look between the two of them nervously.

“Well, if I say yes I’m an idiot right?” Andrew responded. Bender leapt over the ramp’s banister and started at the other boy.

“You’re an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, then you’re a liar too.” Not only did Brian not like being involved in confrontation, he also hated being witness to it. As Andrew followed Bender, he felt compelled to go break it up, put a stop to this.

“You want me to turn it up?” Bender asked, flipping off Andrew as Brian stepped between them, placing a hand on one of each of their shoulders. They smacked his hands away, almost in sync and he withdrew, but he knew words could be just as powerful as actions.

“I, I don’t like my parents either. I don’t know. Their idea of parental compassion is just...whacko.” Brian confessed.

“Dork? You are a parent’s wet dream, okay?” Bender replied, clapping him on his shoulder. It was a friendly enough gesture, but it actually dealt a devastating blow. Brian knew he was a disappointment to his parents. He was being open and honest with the group and was shut down immediately anyway. “...face it, you're a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie. What would you be out doing if you weren’t making yourself a better citizen?” Another hit. This one made Brian sink against one of the tables. He hung his head and didn’t even notice Y/N approach him until she softly placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” She offered, gazing into his eyes. He was terrified that she would be able to read him and to see the truth, to see the sad and scared kid he truly was inside. Instead, he stiffened up and sat rigidly, clearing his throat of emotion.

“Yeah, thanks.” He also tried his best to ignore that she was touching him. If he weren’t in detention being told he was the epitome of geek by John Bender, he’d have sworn this were a dream. Bender now moved his disdain to Claire, asking if she were a virgin. Y/N shifted uncomfortably away from Brian and crossed her arms over her chest, but still stood next to him, watching the same drama unfold. Bender and Andrew soon stood in front of them, fully in a heated argument and Bender took a swing. Brian didn’t think twice and reflexively shot his arm up to shield Y/N. Sure, his crush on her might be stupid or silly, but he was not about to let her get caught in this crossfire and get hurt. He watched as Andrew wrestled Bender to the floor and Bender said, “I don’t want to get into this with you, man...cuz I’d kill you.” Andrew let him up and they seemed to separate and cool down, so Brian finally moved his arm back down, assuming the danger towards Y/N was gone but he was on-guard still, ready to move again if he needed to. “It’s real simple. I’d kill you and then your fucking parents would sue me and it would be a big mess, and I don’t care about you enough to bother.” For some reason, this hit Brian hard and he had to look away, look down to escape. But then he heard a click and his head shot up. Bender had pulled out a switchblade. His eyes went wide and he looked cautiously at Y/N who looked just as shocked. They all relaxed a little when he stabbed it into a chair instead of Andrew’s flesh, but immediately panicked again when the door audibly unlatched and opened. They scrambled to get to their seats, Bender quickly striding to the front and sitting far away from Andy so as not to implicate himself. But that meant that he had stolen Y/N’s seat. On her original route to it, she diverted and sat quickly and silently next to Brian. He swallowed hard in response.

Instead of Vernon, Carl the janitor walked in. They collectively sighed with relief and he addressed Brian. “Brian, how ya doin’?” Brian quickly averted his eyes, both embarrassed to be seen here by Carl (he stayed late in many clubs and had built up a good rapport with the man and didn’t need him thinking less of him for being in detention) and by being seen as associated with him by his peers. Carl was a great guy, really funny and nice; accommodated every need each one of his clubs had...but Brian was still a teenager and image was everything and being thought of as ‘dweeb who is friends with the janitor’ was not how he wanted to be seen.

“Your dad work here?” Bender inquired, smirking deviously. Brian just shook his head in response and didn’t answer Carl, either. “Carl, can I ask you a question? How does one become a janitor?” Bender continued.

“You want to become a janitor?” Carl asked, knowing that Bender didn’t really want to know.

“No, I just want to know how one becomes one. Andrew here is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts.” Bender glanced over at Andrew and smirked again, pleased with his implied put-down.

“Oh really? You guys think I’m some untouchable peasant, serf, peon? Maybe so. But following a broom around after shitheads like you for the last eight years, I’ve learned a couple of things.” Carl looked towards Brian and Y/N, “I look through your letters.” Brian thought he saw her stiffen and freeze, just a little bit, as if Carl were addressing her. She suddenly shifted away from Brian and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. “...I am the eyes and the ears of this institution, my friend.” Carl stopped and smiled, “By the way. That clock is twenty minutes fast.” Brian looked at it and then his watch, noting that he was right. He wasn’t sure if he should adjust his wrist piece or not; to go with the time on the wall or the time Vernon was keeping. But he couldn’t be bothered with the choice when Bender stood up and faced his table. He was afraid of what he might do or say to them, but he simply nodded towards Y/N’s seat, indicating that she could have it back.

“I’m good for now,” she said, surprising Brian. He assumed she would have moved back, a moment ago she moved away from him, but now she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye before glancing back up at John, who was raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Thanks for not dicking with my stuff though,” she said.

“Oh, shit.” Bender said “Do you think I should steal something or has the moment passed?” The tension seemed to drop and they all smiled as he went back to his seat, but he turned his attention back their way. “So, you’ve been pretty quiet, what’s your name?” Brian had a bad habit of blurting out. He liked answering questions as it was, showing his knowledge. A lot of the time, it didn’t matter if he was being asked or not. So, without thinking, he responded to Bender’s question and told him Y/N’s name. It was a reflex, but one he instantly regretted, feeling like he just shot himself in the foot. Bender gave him a look and he steeled himself for his worst, for the mockery sure to come, but instead he just looked at her and followed up with “Is that true? Is that your name?”

She didn’t acknowledge his weirdness either. She simply nodded and told John, “Yeah, (Y/N). Or, I guess you could call me (Y/N/N) if you want,” and Brian let out a quiet shaky exhale in relief. That could have been...disastrous. After a moment, while Bender was otherwise occupied, she turned to him and said, “Thank you, for earlier. I mean, blocking me when those two were getting into it.” He felt his heart race; he wasn’t sure she had even noticed that earlier, even though he wasn’t exactly subtle.

“N-no problem.” He responded, trying to restrain the smile creeping up onto his face. He wanted to play it cool, like it was no big deal, like that’s just what manly men such as himself do: put themselves in harm’s way for others.

Vernon came in to dismiss them for lunch much too early for his liking. He didn’t really have much of a chance to talk to Y/N while she was sitting next to him, and as soon as they were allowed to mill about like the caged animals they currently were, the remaining members of their detention gravitated towards Bender near the center of the library. Brian was slightly disappointed when she wandered off into the stacks as Bender looked through books and Claire continued her daydreaming. Not really sure what to do with himself, Brian folded his long legs over one of the ramp railings and sat atop it, hunched over. He looked up when Bender called out, “Hey, Peachy!” There were a few moments of silence before Y/N looked back over in their direction and Brian froze, immediately disliking Bender addressing her as such and worrying what uncouth thing he might say to her. But he just asked her what she could be in detention for, because she didn’t seem the type, which Brian wholeheartedly agreed with. He waited intently for the answer, as every interaction he had with her (or every observation, rather), she seemed so...sweet.

“Oh. Well, you know how in Biology they dissect like, frogs and shit every year?” She looked a little defeated and a blush crept up her cheeks as she continued, “I---sort of stole and freed the frogs.” Brian couldn’t help but laugh. That seemed like something you shouldn’t get detention for, anyway, but it was definitely on-par with the personality he knew her for. He felt relieved that the reason aligned with how he thought of her. She was in here for something nice, and debatably, the right thing. His heart melted a little when she told Bender that she had researched enough to let the frogs go responsibly; that she would have adopted them if they wouldn’t have made it on their own and he couldn’t help but smile in her direction. Bender, of course, moved on quickly, scanning one of the books in his stack to find new material to talk about, to bother the girls with, but Brian’s gaze was still fixated on Y/N. She was running her fingers along spines of books, seemingly in her own world. He felt like maybe it was fated that they were both here, like he was getting a second chance. He still hadn’t really conjured up the courage to talk to her yet, but they were only half-way through their day; there was still time.

“Claire? Y/N? You wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitis of the nuts?” Bender asked, “Pretty tasty. How do you think he rides a bike? Oh Claire, would you ever consider dating a guy like this?”

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyes lit up and she looked their way again. “Elephantiasis? Like the movie The Elephant Man? Great movie! Really sad though.” Brian grinned at the way she scrunched her eyebrows together in remembering the emotion from the movie. He had seen it, too. It was really good...and touching. Maybe that could be his ice-breaker. Movies were normal things that normal teenagers talked about, right? He didn’t really notice that Bender and Claire were still conversing until it implicated him, though.

“Oh! Watch what you say. Brian here is a cherry.” Brian looked at him, startled.

“A cherry?” He asked, indignantly, cheeks flaring up with a red hue. “I am not a cherry.” He didn’t need Bender calling him out like this, embarrassing him. He didn’t need the obvious association that the nerd was a virgin. Especially in front of beautiful girls, particularly Y/N. She didn’t need to know that he was an inexperienced loser.

“When have you ever gotten laid?” Bender asked, doubtfully

“I’ve laid lots of times.”

“Name ONE.” Bender said, sarcastically, hoping to catch him in a trap.

“She lives in Canada. Met her at Niagara Falls; You wouldn’t know her.” Brian said, prepared with this answer from previous conversations about this topic. It wasn’t the first time he’d been involved in a conversation about virginity that he couldn’t be entirely honest about, nor was it the first time he had been mocked for being a virgin or doubted about the non-existent relations that he didn’t have. Even though part of his brain felt like it was glaringly obvious to the outside world and must have been stamped on his forehead that girls did not typically talk to him, nor had he even kissed a girl before, but he still lied about it anyway. He knew he didn’t precisely have an ‘image’ to protect, but he didn’t want to seem like a total lost cause or dweeby stereotype.

Bender, however, wasn’t having it. “You ever lay anyone around here?” He scoffed and Brian panicked. He had noticed that Y/N had turned back to the aisle of books and was praying she wasn’t listening, and Claire didn’t seem to be paying attention, so he tried to gesture to Bender to keep it down, to let him off the hook before either girl noticed him or this conversation. Bender immediately twisted it around and attacked him with it, though. Brian felt his heart being squeezed and felt overwhelmed, instantly, as Bender said, “Oh. You and Claire did it.”

“Oh, uh I-Let’s just drop it, okay? We’ll talk about it later,” Brian attempted to get out of it again, praying that John would have one ounce of mercy on him. However, Brian was never really very lucky.

“Well, Brian is trying to tell me that in addition to the number of girls in the Niagara Falls area, that presently you and he are riding the hobby horse.” Brian’s eyes slammed shut in embarrassment.

“You little pig,” Claire growled at him and his eyes shot back open wide. He scrambled to defend himself.

“No! I’m not! John said I was a cherry and I said I wasn’t. That’s it. That’s all I said.”

“Well then what were you motioning to Claire for?” Bender followed up, not giving Brian any wiggle room.

“You know, I don’t appreciate this very much, Brian.” Claire sounded more disappointed and hurt than anything, which made Brian feel like a slug, instantly. He didn’t mean to implicate her or to bring her down. He was just trying to hide his embarrassment from John and the girls.

“He is lying!” Brian tried one last attempt to deflect.

“Oh, you weren’t motioning to Claire?”

“You know he’s lying, right?”

“Were you, or were you not motioning to Claire?” Brian hated this. He’d been stuffed in lockers before and yearned for that over the torture Bender was inflicting now. He couldn’t save face; either he was a disgusting creep saying he had had sex with Claire when he didn’t, or he’d have to tell them the truth and feel humiliated at telling everyone he was a virgin. He grit his teeth and chose to go with the latter.

“Yeah, but it was only- it was only because I didn’t want her to know I was a virgin, okay?” They looked almost...shocked by his response, which he wasn’t expecting. He thought it would be a ‘Well, duh, you’re a virgin, Johnson! Who would want to touch you?’ But Claire and Y/N looked surprised. “Excuse me for being a virgin, I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know you were a virgin?” Claire asked honestly, like it was no big deal. If she only knew...

“Because it’s personal business. It’s my personal, private business.”

“Well, Brian, it doesn’t sound like you’re doing any business,” Bender snuck in another jab and Brian was brought down to what he knew all along, that they were just going to laugh at him.

“I think it’s okay for a guy to be a virgin.” Claire’s unexpected response gave him instant relief. She was taking his side and Bender had no more ammo. Brian perked up even more when Y/N agreed with her. It wasn’t an embarrassing secret for him now because they didn’t mind. They almost seemed to admire him for it. The thought caused his lips to twitch and he hid his smile by leaning his head against his knee.

*~~~~*

During lunch, Bender didn’t have any food, so his appetite turned to targeting the rest of the detainees again. He started in on Claire for a bit, but then came over to taunt Brian. It seemed like it could be friendly, at first, as John just examined his lunch. But as he drew out each item, his tone became more and more sarcastic. “Here’s my impression of life at Big Bri’s house.” Bender went on to mock him, painting his life like it was some episode of Leave It To Beaver where the family would all hug it out at the end. Brian’s throat became dry and he could feel eyes on both Bender and himself, trying to judge his reactions to John’s farce. He hated being such an easy target. He hadn’t done anything towards John personally, but he was still constantly in the hot seat because John could get away with it and the others would laugh and enjoy it. At least Andy fought back...even Claire did. And Bender didn’t even really bother to mess with Allison. She had an aura of ‘don’t fuck with me,’ and he didn’t even touch her as a subject, even though she was just as odd and out of place as Brian. Not to mention, he was wrong. It wasn’t all peachy-keen happy endings at Brian’s house. If it were, Brian wouldn’t be here today.

Still, it was hard not to be drawn in by John, and he watched his next dramatic retelling of his own home life in stunned horror. John’s dad called him terrible names in this act and hit him. “Is that for real?” Brian asked, brows furrowed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe John, it was just that...well, the situation sucked and he needed to be told it wasn’t true. Like a kid hearing that a ghost story was made up and there was nothing to fear. But he knew by John’s pained expression that it was, even before he spoke.

“Wanna come over some time?” Bender asked him and he flinched away. Andrew didn’t believe him though, and questioned it so John revealed to them all his very real cigar burn scar on his arm, claiming he got it from spilling paint in the garage. The group collectively flinched and no one moved for a few moments while Bender said, “I don’t need to sit with you fuckin’ dildos anymore,” and raged through the library.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Claire admonished Andrew.

“How would I know? I mean he lies about everything anyway.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Y/N snapped at him and looked back towards Bender as though she wanted to follow him. Brian tried to will her silently not to; he didn’t really trust that Bender would control his emotions and she might get hurt. He felt relieved when she turned around, but then his heart began pounding once more as she gathered her lunch into the sack and stood up. ‘No, don’t do it, Y/N.’ He stared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice as she cautiously walked past and crept up the library stairs to where Bender was and sat next to him. Brian felt a little calmed when Bender didn’t lash out; he just rolled his eyes but stayed rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, the rest of the group at their lunch in silence.

*~~~~*

Brian felt guilty for leaving Bender behind, for allowing him to sacrifice himself for the group. Hell, they all did. Especially when Vernon started shoving him around and saying he was going to be in jail. Brian couldn’t help but wonder if he could become like John. It’s not like he was born into that life. But he had it tough at home, struggled at school, and had problems with authority (particularly when they lied). Brian could see some parallels. He, too, was unhappy at home. While his parents didn’t beat him like John’s did him, or berate him to the same degree, he couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. And he felt like he was just slipping. Now he had broken school rules, brought a gun to school, watched as others destroyed school property, and was gaining a healthy distrust of authority by seeing how Vernon acted today. He’d even corrected him once, when counting Bender’s detentions, not that the truth seemed to matter to Vernon anyway. What if he continued down this path? What if things just kept getting worse at home? Would it really be that bad to be like Bender? Despite being a total jerkwad, he had the charisma to draw people in. He’d even had Y/N eat lunch with him! It just didn’t seem like the deal was all bad when he looked at it that way. ‘What’s next? Are you going to take up smoking?’ His brain scolded him, even though he had completely forgotten that he had drugs stashed in his pants right now...until Bender fell through the ceiling and asked for them back. He dug them uncomfortably out of his underwear and handed the bag over. Bender took off to smoke in the library and Brian realized he had a choice to make. Boy, was he tempted. ‘What’s one more rule broken today?’ He felt more emboldened when Claire stood up and followed John. Andrew tried to talk him out of it, shaking his head. Brian drummed his hands on the desk. He wasn’t sure he’d have another opportunity. Most of his friends and acquaintances didn’t do drugs...to his knowledge, anyway. He thought momentarily about his cousin Kendall, and how he started smoking pot and didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. ‘You already don’t feel like you belong anywhere,’ His mind reminded him, and with that, the decision was made; what did he have to lose? So he slunk off to join Bender and Claire.

It was...definitely a different experience. Brian didn’t care for the way his thoughts seemed so disjointed, that he couldn’t keep one train of thought going. For someone who was known for his intelligence and felt like his brain was his one good quality, it was a little scary to have that slip away. But, there was a sort of numbness that came with the drug that made him worry less about that. He felt less worried and anxious in general, actually. His focus was being pulled in too many directions to wonder what his parents would think or if he was saying the right thing, or if this could even be a mistake. He felt relaxed and oddly open. He was even making Bender and Claire laugh, which he hadn’t expected. It was like there was a new persona underneath that was unlocked. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. He was, however, surprised by how long the effects lasted. It was a little more than an hour later and the whole group was sitting in a circle (Y/N and Allison never seemed to have joined them in the marijuana. Not that he had noticed, anyway) and Allison was telling the group that she was a nymphomaniac, which was exciting. Particularly to someone with zero experience, to hear someone claim she’d done ‘almost everything’ was utterly fascinating. However, his head was still swimming and he seemed to have a lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. He couldn’t catch his words fast enough, which was often a problem for him sober, but now it wasn’t just supplying corrections or information, the more cruel thoughts slipped through, too.

“Obviously she’s crazy if she’s screwing her shrink,” he added to the group without even thinking. Y/N was sitting to his right and promptly hit him on the arm with the back of her hand.

“Brian!” She hissed and gave him a glare. ‘Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?’ He thought, looking at her with wide-eyed fear. The realization sobered him up pretty quickly and he was much more in control of his thoughts and words after that. Despite the weed taking away most of his worries, he still cared how she perceived him. From then on, he was more focused on the conversations in front of him and how he added to them, but it was harder to control his emotions when Andrew began telling them about why he was here today.

“You guys know what I did to get in here today? I taped Larry Lester’s buns together.” Andy said, with a hint of a smile. ‘How can he just smirk like that? He has to know it was a shitty thing to do and that he hurt Larry.’ Brian thought. He knew Larry had been attacked this week by one of the sports, but he didn’t know who. Larry didn’t even know the kid’s name, had never talked to him, but still got jumped anyway. An experience that Brian was all too familiar with.

“That was you?” Brian asked, somewhat surprised, but started to get angry.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” He said quietly, trying not to let the anger bubble past the surface.

He had to bite his tongue when Andy made Larry into a joke, “Then you know how hairy he is right?” Bender and Claire chuckled at his joke, at him bullying one of Brian’s friends. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different,’ Brian thought dejectedly. But he was hoping that they were all better people than...this. The realization that they weren’t better than that, coupled with Andrew expressing his feelings about his father got Brian thinking. “I...hate him. He’s like this mindless machine that I can’t even relate to anymore.” Brian felt so disconnected from his parents, too, even though the rest of the group thought they lived in a fairytale. He was their pride and joy once, but it felt like ever since he started high school, he just wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t a good enough student, he didn’t do his chores right, he wasn’t setting himself up for college correctly, he wasn’t a good role model or brother to his sister...it all just added up and weighed on him immensely. He covered his face with one of his hands to hide his emotion and expression from the group. He didn’t even react when Andrew started screaming what his father had told him, but when everything settled down, he took the chance to speak.

“That’s like me, you know, with my grades. Like, when I step outside myself. A-and I look in on myself...and-and I see me, I don’t like what I see,” it was a difficult thing to admit but after what Allison and Andrew shared, he felt like maybe this could be the space to do so, too.

“What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you like yourself?” Claire asked. He knew it was meant to be nice, encouraging even, but it just made him feel worse. This beautiful, popular, and rich girl asking someone why they weren’t happy with themselves? Like she could have any sort of clue. No wonder it baffled her; she had everything. But he could also see Y/N nodding vigorously, agreeing with Claire. He didn’t want to put her on the same plane as Claire, he felt like she would be above that. But she clearly didn’t understand the way he felt, either. That just made him feel more alone.

“It’s stupid, but,” Brian said, “because I’m failing shop. We had this assignment to make this, uh, ceramic elephant. Anyways we were supposed to-it was, it was a lamp. When you pulled the trunk, the light was supposed to go on. But my light didn’t go on. I got an F on it. I’ve never got an F in my life. When I signed up, y’know, for the course, I thought I was playing it smart. I was, uh, ‘I’ll take Shop, it’s an easy way to maintain my grade point average.’”

“Why’d you think it would be easy?” Bender chimed in, not making eye contact. Brian had been lost in his own thoughts and his story and not looking at the group either, really. He had wanted to be honest, but he was also embarrassed. Honesty would have been hard to maintain if he was looking at them and seeing their judgments in real time.

“Have you seen some of the dopes that take Shop?” Brian asked, not realizing it would strike a nerve.

“I take Shop.” Bender responded, now turning his eyes to him, “You must be a fucking idiot.”

“I’m a fucking idiot because I can’t make a lamp?” Brian snapped defensively. He should have known it would be a mistake to put himself on the line like this, to open himself up to their judgement. He knew Bender was lashing out because he was insulted, but that didn’t make his jibes hurt any less.

“No, you’re a genius because you can’t make a lamp.” Bender shot back, sarcastically.

“What do you know about Trigonometry?” Brian fought back.

“I could care less about Trigonometry.”

“Bender, there’s no engineering without trigonometry.”

“Without lamps, there’d be no light.” Bender replied grumpily, grasping at straws for a fair comparison.

“Okay, so neither one of you is any better than the other one,” Claire jumped in. Before either of them responded, Allison added her own odd addition.

“I can write with my toes!” Both Bender and Brian looked at her incredulously, but she did calm the two of them down and add levity to the moment.

“I can make spaghetti!” Brian said cheerfully after a moment. Y/N smiled at him and his heart fluttered. He returned the smile and for a moment, forgot all about his blunder. Maybe that smile had given him the courage to participate again, to be open and vulnerable. Claire and Bender began fighting again, which wasn’t a surprise, but it opened a door for Brian to ask what had been weighing on his mind since their circle began. He felt like they had all bonded. They had told each other some of their deepest secrets and biggest pains, but did that really make them friends? “I know it’s kind of a weird time, but you know, I was just wondering...what’s going to happen to us on Monday? I mean, I consider you guys my friends,” he continued, looking around the circle, “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” Andy reassured him. So, he wasn’t imagining it, they felt like friends, too.

“So on Monday, what happens?”

“Are we still friends, you mean? If we’re friends now?” Claire asked.

“Yeah.”

“You want the truth?” Claire couldn’t meet his eye, and Brian knew from the question she posed, he really didn’t want the truth. He knew what was coming, but he continued anyway.

“Yeah, I want the truth.”

“I don’t think so.” Claire responded and he somehow still wasn’t prepared for the blow. It still hit him hard, causing a squeezing pain in his chest and he looked away, clenching his jaw to hold the tears back that were welling in his eyes.

“With all of us,” Allison asked, “or just John?”

“With all of you,” Claire confirmed, looking away from the group.

“That’s a real nice attitude, Claire,” Andrew said gruffly.

“Oh, be honest, Andy,” Claire groaned, “If Brian came up to you in the hall on Monday, what would you do? Picture it, you’re with all the sports.” Brian glanced up at his name and looked at Andy hopefully. In his heart, he knew Claire was probably right, but he wanted to believe that Andrew was really his friend, that they all were. “You know exactly what you’d do. You’d say hi to him and then you’d laugh and cut him all up so your friends wouldn’t think you actually like him.”

“No way.” Andy denied, and that gave Brian a glimmer of hope, one he so desperately wanted to believe.

“What if I came up to you?” Allison asked.

“Same exact thing.”

“You are a bitch!” Bender yelled at Claire.

“Why?! Because I’m telling the truth? That makes me a bitch?”

“No. Cuz you know how shitty that is to do to someone and you don’t have the balls to stand up to your friends and tell them you’re gonna like who you wanna like…” Bender continued berating Claire, but Brian now started to fail to hold back the tears that had been threatening so long to fall. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the group and tried to quickly wipe the tear away, hoping no one was paying attention to him; that they couldn’t see how they had impacted him. But he still felt eyes on him, particularly when he wiped the next tear away. He let Claire and Bender’s argument surround him. They called each other out, that neither would associate with him or Allison, that their image was too important to protect to reach out. It was a story that Brian had lived all of his life. ‘How could I think that one day would change everything?’ He thought, pitifully.

“So I assume Allison, Y/N, and I are better people than you? Us weirdos?” Brian interjected when Claire and Bender were silently fuming from their spat. “You, would you do that to me?” He asked Allison.

“I don’t have any friends,” she replied, which made Brian smile a little, even though he rolled his eyes some.

“Okay, but if you did?” He let out a light chuckle, urging her to answer.

“No. I don’t think the kind of friends that I’d have would mind,” Allison replied and Brian nodded, then steeled himself to turn to Y/N and ask the same question. He saw her quickly swipe at her face with her sleeves and realized, suddenly, that she had been crying too. He wasn’t sure why; she had been very quiet through this whole exchange, but maybe that was because it hit home hard for her, too. He felt a painful pang in his chest, both from seeing her tears and from fearing the possibility of her answer. He had spent the day hoping that this was a second chance, that he could get to know her. This was a bold move and would tell him if there was even a chance or not; and he feared the ‘not.' She locked eyes with him and he gulped, petrified to dive in but knowing he had to.

“What about you, Y/N?” He asked, quietly. It felt like the question hung in the air for an agonizing eternity, even though she answered right away. Time worked differently when you were waiting to hear if your world was going to be shattered.

“I would be honored to be your friend,” she replied with a shaking voice. Even though it was strained, it filled him with instant relief. He believed her as he had believed Allison and nodded, biting his lip.

“I just want to tell, each of you, that I wouldn’t do that,” he turned to the group,” I wouldn’t and I will not. Because I think it’s real shitty.”

“Your friends wouldn’t mind because they look up to us.” Claire told him and he couldn’t help but laugh derisively in response. Next to him, he heard Y/N give a sort of squeak but figured that it carried the same disbelief towards Claire as his gesture did.

“You’re so conceited, Claire. You’re so conceited. You’re like, so full of yourself. Why are you like that?” Brian noticed the tears falling again and swiped them away. He didn’t want Claire to think she wounded him, that she had the upper hand. While it stung to have all of his beliefs about how the popular kids perceived him and his friends confirmed, that wasn’t what really was bothering him. It was more that it reminded him that he was invisible, he didn’t matter, which was exactly why he was here today.

“I’m not saying that to be conceited. I hate it. I hate having to go along with everything my friends say.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Claire sighed, and Brian noticed that she was drying her own tears. He didn’t necessarily like having caused them, but it was nice to know she was still human, that she was feeling the way he was, too. “You don’t understand, You’re not friends with the same kind of people Andy and I are friends with, you know? You just don’t understand the kind of pressure that they can put on you.” That, however, lit a fire within Brian. ‘Pressure from other assholes is so important? Try your own parents, Claire.’

“I don’t understand what?” Brian began, gesturing towards himself and planting his fingers into his chest. It relieved some of the dull ache there. “You think I don’t understand pressure, Claire? Well, fuck you! Fuck you!” ‘Also, fuck ‘bravery’ or saving face,’ Brian broke down into sobs in his elbow before calling out from his hiding spot, “do you know why I’m here today? Do you?!” He sat up to look at the group, the people he considered friends, to share his pain with them. “I’m here...because Mr. Ryan found a gun in my locker.” The words turned thick as they left his mouth and took on a life of their own. His eyes darted quickly around the circle, noting Claire’s dropped jaw, Allison’s tearful eyes that couldn’t meet his own, the way Andrew looked away and Bender seemed to know how he had felt, but also how he was surprised that Brian had the balls to do such a thing, and finally...tears silently and consistently slipping down Y/N’s face.

“What’s the gun for?” Andrew asked, interrupting Brian’s thoughts.

“I tried. You pull the fuckin’--trunk and the light’s supposed to go on and it didn’t go on, you know?” ‘You’ve said too much. They all thought you were a weirdo, now they think you’re a psychotic weirdo.’ “Forget it. Just--forget it,” he said in an attempt to brush it off, as if everything could go back to normal with the bombshell he just dropped on them.

“You brought it up, man,” Andrew insisted.

“I can’t have an F. I can’t have it and I know my parents can’t. Even if I aced the rest of the semester, it would only be a B. I’m ruined.”

“Brian…” Claire started, but there was nothing she could say to make this alright. ‘You’re a failure, Brian, and now you’ve become a freakshow. Look at her pity,’ his brain taunted him and he lashed out to hit the stool on his right, not even thinking about it until Y/N jumped up in her seated position, startled. The last thing he would want to do is hurt or scare her. ‘Shit, great. Another fuck up.’

“Sorry,” he mumbled in her direction before setting his head on his knee and continuing with his story from before, “Just considering my options, you know?”

“No, killing yourself is never an option!” Claire yelled at him, which made him scoff.

“Well I didn’t do it, did I? No, I didn’t think so.” ‘She really just doesn’t get it, does she? She still can’t picture why I’d want to--’

“It was a handgun?” Allison asked

“A flare gun. It blew up in my locker.” Brian sighed, but then he heard Andrew start to laugh. “It’s not funny.” Brian asserted. Andrew tried to clear his throat to stop laughing, but he couldn’t and Brian bit his lip and smiled in realization, “Yeah, it is.” The laughter was contagious...and better than crying. “Fucking elephant was destroyed.”

“You know what I did to get in here?” Allison asked the group, and Brian almost feared her answer. “Nothing. I didn’t have anything better to do.” That completely brightened the mood and Brian fell over laughing. It seemed like he was forgiven and that no one here was judging him for the failed lamp or the gun nor would they tell anybody about it. They...they had accepted him in the end after all.

*~~~~*

“...we trust you.” Claire was trying to talk him into writing one essay to cover all of them, and she was using flattery. Lucky for her, it worked. He looked down the row to seek approval from the others and they all nodded. But he liked knowing that they thought he was the smartest and the most capable, that they trusted his words would win over Vernon in a way that they wouldn’t be punished for not doing their own essays. It was a big task and a lot to entrust to him, so he took pride in fulfilling it. Claire took the other girls with her somewhere and it was just Andrew and him sitting silently in the library, so he decided to get to work. Andrew was just lurking about, playing with his jewelry, but he wasn’t a distraction. However, Allison passing by looking completely different was. Brian looked up, shocked that this was the same person he had spent all day with. Her hair was away from her face and he could actually see her brown eyes and she was wearing...white, the opposite of all of the layers of black before. He caught her glare at him staring at her so he tried to give her a reassuring smile, that it was a good look for her. She said, “thank you,” and moved on toward Andrew. Brian turned back to his essay and finished the last couple of lines, not noticing Y/N approaching behind him. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have kissed the essay or given himself a ‘good job’ punch in the arm.

He sat up in startled revelation when she spoke, “That good, huh?” He realized she had just seen everything. He had never felt more like a dork in his life and a blush crept up into his cheeks.

“Uh...yeah, I-I guess. I mean, do you want to read it?” He asked as she started to pull back the chair next to him to sit down.

“If you want me to, but I trust you.” She took her seat and placed her arm gently on his forearm. ‘Holy shit. She is touching me! She’s looking at me. What do I even say? Do I acknowledge the touch or do I just--’ “I’m impressed that you came up with something so quickly though.” Brian felt pride bubble up within him, knowing that she noticed...no, she was impressed by him. He cocked his head and looked at her sideways, trying to figure her out. She quickly looked away and pulled her hand back, now fiddling with her sleeves. ‘Is she...nervous?’ He thought, trying to decode her reaction. “So, um…you said earlier that you were in the Math Club? Um, I mean, if you have the time, do you think you could tutor me? I’m like totally lost in Clarkson’s class.”

He blinked. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t exactly that. Not that he would say no to spending more time with her. He had wanted that second chance, after all. “Yeah, no, I could do that,” he told her and watched as she twisted away and looked behind her, grabbing paper off of Allison’s desk. She leaned back forward and reached for his pen in front of him. She was actually close enough now that he could smell her shampoo and his body threatened to turn into jello on the spot.

“Here...is...my...phone number.” She said as she wrote it out on the paper and handed it to him. “Call me so we can set something up?” She looked up at him and knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

“You--You want me to call you?” He asked with raised eyebrows, wholly surprised by the request. He’d not only not kissed a girl, but one had never given him her phone number before.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him and his heartbeat picked up even faster, if that was possible. She cleared her throat and nodded towards Andrew and Allison. “So, those two, huh? Unexpected, right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He was suddenly hurtled back to Earth, to reality. “Definitely. Wait, where’s Claire?”

“She...she said she was going to go ‘check on’ Bender.”

“Wow. So them, too.” ‘Everyone is coupling up maybe we should--’ he interrupted his own thought and shot it down. All he could say was, “That��s really...weird.”

*~~~~*

After they were finally released and Brian left his essay on the desk for Vernon to collect, and hopefully reflect upon, they all walked out together. It made sense as they all had to go to the main entrance, but there was a feeling of solidarity within it that made Brian think that the members of what he dubbed The Breakfast Club would continue their friendship come Monday.

Allison and Andrew branched off together, as did Claire and John. Brian looked quickly at Y/N as she walked down the steps with him. His dad was there to pick him up, which he was thankful for. His mom would definitely notice him walking with a girl and have a million questions and a lengthy lecture lined up, but his dad would barely notice, much less think anything of it. He reached for the door handle as Y/N was about to depart, but then she called his name, “Hey Brian,” he looked up, not sure what else she could possibly have to say, especially since they had been silent while the couples had veered off. “See you Monday.” She reminded him and gave him a small smile. He gave a grin in return.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you on Monday.” He replied, beginning to get into the car, her phone number burning a hole in his pocket. For the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to another week school.

Tags:

@criminalwipes

#the breakfast club #breakfast club #breakfast club movie redeux #midnight sun'd prologue #you're not the only one stephanie myer #brian johnson x reader #brian x reader #brian johnson #john bender #claire standish #allison reynolds #andrew clark #80s fanfic #reader-insert

137 notes · View notes

mooshys · 3 years

Text

the silver lining of bad first dates

summary: a date gone wrong. a walk in the rain. a simple conversation in a ramen shop. mundane slice of life and mutual pining with kuroo.

word count: 2.1k

author’s note and warnings: curse words galore. set in time-skip. pure word vomit. kuroo’s one of those characters that I’m so scared to even consider writing for because I feel as though I’ll never truly be able to “get” his character. whatever though, I tried.

This date fucking sucked.

Point-blank. No sugarcoating because the dude sitting on the opposite side of the dinner table was more interested in the JASDAQ than your name. Seriously, he couldn’t even be bothered to listen to you talk about your alma mater before he swooped in and started blanketing his insecurities with his recent Bitcoin investment.

Talk about lame.

Wine and hors d’oeuvres be damned, you were making an escape before he started mansplaining the economy. Even wagyu couldn’t save this candlelit disaster.

Making no attempt to be discreet, you whipped your phone out of your bag and typed up a quick text:

Mind picking me up? Shitty date.

Ping!

Seriously? Again? What’d this guy do this time?

Ping!

Send the address

Ping!

I swear, this is the last time I’m picking you up

You smiled at the screen, thumbs moving fast.

That’s what you said last week

A bubble with three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared.

Ping!

Five minutes.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Like every cliché bad first date, the weather made sure to mimic the mood. The rainfall was nothing less than dreadful, a downpour that left the streets empty as most people kept indoors to avoid getting soaked.

“You’re so lucky that I didn’t have to work overtime tonight,” Kuroo began, standing close to you in an attempt to shield you both from the shower with his janky umbrella. “Otherwise, you’d be walking in the rain or sitting there having your dinner ruined from hearing that guy talk about his gains in the market.”

You laughed at the truth of his words. There really was no one else who knew you like Kuroo.

“And you know I would’ve walked in the rain out of the two options. I can’t believe someone so dick-ish exists that I’d bail out on a free meal,” you said, raising your voice over the heavy pelting.

Without any warning, a trio of college kids rushed past you two, not paying attention to the other pedestrians walking the sidewalks as their only priority in mind was making it back home before catching a cold. They had their backpacks held up to cover their heads, but it wasn’t much help as their clothes were completely soaked.

“See that?” Kuroo jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You would’ve been running like those kids all the way back to your apartment if I didn’t show up.”

You lightly elbowed him and rolled your eyes. Rain fell on your shoulder from the sudden movement, but Kuroo repositioned the umbrella to prevent you from getting wet. “As if,” you murmured, hugging your body in an attempt to keep warm. “Thanks for picking me up. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re oh so welcome,” he waved off your words and then cackled when you narrowed your eyes at him. Sometimes he really knew how to push your buttons. “Anyway, are you trying to date a bunch of crappy guys on purpose? Because I feel like that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“It’s not like I ask to go through a bunch of crappy first dates!” you said, letting out a huff of hot air. The past month had been riddled with unsuccessful first dates. Statistically speaking, you were an outlier; the average person probably went through a handful of bad first dates in a single year: you went through that number in a mere month. Multiple standard deviations past, you were way out of the norm. “Maybe I’m just a magnet for awful guys who only have a thing for themselves.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Or maybe you just like to make my life a little bit harder.”

You smiled at his words.

“Maybe.”

Besides the realization that you were like a honeytrap to flies when it came to bad first dates, another constant came from the start of it all: Kuroo. You weren’t expecting much from the first SOS call; really, just someone to walk you back home when it was late and the taxi fares were jacked up. But you would never forget the first time he waited for you outside that overhyped bar with a bag of take-out, his tie loosened and hair messy because he had just left the office and rushed to the nearest place that sold yakisoba for a decent price.

Maybe you did make his life a little bit harder. It was selfish, but whenever you had a bad date, you actually started to anticipate your escape because that meant Kuroo would be there for you.

He was your silver lining for the past month.

Red brick walls came into view once you two rounded the corner into a more secluded alley, revealing a familiar site that made you hungry. A neon sign which turned brighter due to the haze of the rain drew you in like a moth to a flame. It flickered, but still kept its light. Another constant.

Underneath the awning of the restaurant, Kuroo retracted his umbrella and shook the excess water off of it. He shoved it in the small bin filled with umbrellas belonging to the other patrons and dragged the soles of his shoes on the mat before pulling the door open.

“Let’s just get some ramen,” he said, ushering you inside. You took the first steps and situated yourself at a lone table. He followed and a waitress quickly took your orders, soon rushing back to the kitchen to help with the line of tickets pinned to the wall.

“Ramen on a rainy day,” you said, giving a low whistle. “You know your stuff.”

“Duh, ramen tastes best when you’re freezing,” he replied, pulling on his necktie to loosen it. He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks along with a pair of spoons, placing a set in front of you. “And it tastes pretty good after bad dates too.”

“You’re talking to the queen of bad first dates.”

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share too, Your Highness.”

As if on cue, two bowls of ramen were brought over from the kitchen along with an extra soft boiled egg as soon as he finished his sentence. The soup had small ringlets floating at the top from the fat of the broth along with bright green scallions acting as a garnish to offer a vibrant and appetizing color. Wasting no time, you both gave thanks and started to dig in.

“You know,” he started, breaking his chopsticks apart and dipping them into the broth. He pulled up a nice amount of noodles, the steam rising up higher than before. “I really think you should quit dating guys who suck.”

Following Kuroo, you did the same and blew at your noodles. “You say it like it’s easy.”

“It is. It’s so easy.” He ate a mouthful and swallowed before speaking again. “You have your top tier guys, your average guys, and then your totally shitty guys. I mean absolute trash—these are the guys you’re dating. Avoid them and all your problems will be solved.”

“Ugh, I feel like we go through this conversation after every single mishap of a date.”

Translation: Kuroo, you sound like my nagging mother.

“Because you never learn.”

Translation: I will nag at you all I want.

You sighed. “Love’s a lot more complicated than you make it.”

“Whatever. Just find a guy who isn’t an asswipe, and then we can talk.”

As you two continued to eat, the kitchen staff remained lively. The sounds of ceramic bowls clattering together along with the static hum of an old radio buzzing some city pop tune your mom would have listened to in her youth acted as background noise while chatting.

“So... what kind of guy do you think you are?” you asked, curious to hear his answer. Kuroo was in the middle of slurping his noodles and held a hand up to signal you to give him a second.

“Me?” He pointed at himself and you nodded. Who else would you be asking? “I’m your average guy.”

You frowned. “No way.”

“What, you think I’m an absolute trash kind of guy? Harsh.”

“No, I think you’re definitely top tier. Average guys don’t go out of their way to do stuff like this.”

Kuroo raised a brow at you and set his chopsticks down. His bowl was half finished, but he was more interested in what you had to say. “Stuff like what?”

“You know,” you motioned the space between you two, “doing this awful-first-date-rescue-at-the-drop-of-a-hat kind of stuff. No questions asked. Average guys don’t do that. Average guys just pay for your meal and maybe give you their jacket when it’s kind of cold. And sometimes they call you some gross pet name like...” You shivered at the thought. “Kitten or something.”

He looked slightly taken aback. “You don’t like being called kitten?”

“No, something about it sounds gross.”

“That’s just because you haven’t found the right guy to say it to you when—“

Not wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say, you quickly crumpled up a napkin into a ball and tossed it at him. He threw his head back, putting on an act as if you actually did any damage to him.

“Stop. Please. Enough. Don’t even finish what you’re going to say.” You went back to devouring your bowl, the noodles more soft than before. Still tasted great as you shoveled in mouthfuls. “I don’t wanf tew heur et!”

Sporting a disgusted look, Kuroo grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and slid them to your side of the table. “Jeez, you eat like that whenever you’re on a date? Maybe I saved that guy from you.”

“Well, you’re the one stuck with all of this now,” you motioned a hand to your entirety and wiggled an eyebrow. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He held his chin in the palm of his hand and stared at you from across the table, eyes still holding a glint of amusement under the low lighting of the restaurant. His bowl was nearly finished, yet he focused his attention on you, allowing a small smile to grace his lips as he pondered your words.

You eyed him, his gaze feeling a bit different from before. “What are you doing?”

“Considering,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...It shouldn’t take you that long to,” you mumbled and ate another mouthful of noodles. He kept at it and soon started to crack up. When you narrowed your eyes at him, he shook his head and pushed another pile of napkins your way.

“There’s a scallion at the corner of your lips,” he tapped a hand on his bottom lip and cackled when you rushed to grab a napkin and wipe it away. Heat rose to your face and you sucked on your teeth.

“You know what? Forget about me calling you a top tier guy. It never happened.”

He placed a hand over his heart, wounded by your words. “It was kitten, wasn’t it?”

Unable to contain yourself, you laughed into your hand, shoulders shaking. You had to set your chopsticks down as you fanned your face, trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. “If I ever heard that from another guy, I would walk out. The second the word came out of his mouth, I would pack up my things, leave, and never look back.”

“But you’re not right now.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I’m a top tier guy. Admit it.”

Because it’s you.

You shook your head and waved the white flag. “Right, that’s exactly it.”

Kuroo crossed his arms in front of his chest, satisfied with your answer. Like he won something from this conversation. He liked the way your lips tugged into a smile, not too tight, but enough to showcase the apples of your cheeks; he liked these nights when he could unwind after a long day of work and laugh about stupid pet names; he loved how easy it all was.

Consideration done and over with, he went back to finish his bowl, the steam from the broth no longer visible to the naked eye.

“Eat up or it’ll get cold,” he said and sipped on the broth. It was still warm, much to his surprise. “I’ll walk you back home when we’re done.”

You took small bites, prolonging the meal in any way possible: listening to him talk about his lazy cubicle partner, ordering another side of gyoza, folding a napkin to tell him his fortune through grade school methods. Both your bowls were empty, pushed to the side with a sliver of broth left as the focus was neither the food nor the JASDAQ jerk from hours before, but rather mundane conversation that went in circles until the shop emptied out.

A hundred dates could go wrong only for Kuroo to show up and make things right.

Maybe it was time for him to become more than a silver lining.

#I had this in my drafts for 4 months and really could not bring myself to post it #like I absolutely despised it and would reread and edit it over and over again #and I kept this only because of the dialogue line with the top tier guys #Yeah Idk dude it's fine now but begone out of my drafts #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #Ok I also feel like a reason why I *didn't* post this is cuz it's like... rlly different from what I usually post???#like this was so out of my comfort zone and I honestly feel a bit embarrassed sometimes when I write about ~love~ bc it's like. Ew Gross LOL #constant fear of it being too cheesy and unrealistic lmao

235 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

It's been a long, exhausting day, and Hange is happy to finally come home. She shrugs her jacket off, throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the vicinity of the clothes rack, kicks off her shoes and stumbles inside the living room.

Something lies on a coffee table - she doesn't remember putting anything, more than that, she's pretty sure she tried to clean up the apartment the other day, so the presence of an object is exciting. Hange skips to it, greedily snatching it in her arms.

It's a book - The Hobbit, or There and Back Again. Hange read it, of course, many, many times during her high school and university years. She has a copy somewhere on a bookshelf too, but this is copy is so much nicer. It's not exactly new, but the book is leather bound, and as Hange opens it, she lets a sign of reverence - inside there are plenty of illustrations - beautiful, majestic drawings that seem to come alive right underneath her fingertips.

One picture in particular, the one with Gandalf and Bilbo makes her chuckle in delight. She closes the book and holds it close to her chest for a second, and then she travels into her bedroom to put it on a shelf, on the most prominent place, where it would attract attention of anyone who comes in.

"Thank you!" she yells into the open window.

She doesn't know if anyone listens - she really hopes no one does (she possesses some preservation skills, thank you very much, Moblit) - but it never hurts to be polite. Especially to the one who showers her with so much gorgeous gifts.

This - the mysterious apparitions of new things inside her home - started recently, two months ago. A mysterious gifter started breaking into her apartment and leaving various gifts throughout her home. Sometimes they're endearing - like that book she just received and that geranium that now stands on a windowsill. Sometimes they're useful - like that time, for example, when she forgot to buy something for her cat and almost started running to the closest store only to find a can of cat food that was so much more expensive (and probably much more delicious) than she could ever afford. And sometimes the gifts are straight up weird. One time she came home and found an extremely detailed replica of a human's scull. If that was, indeed, a replica.

Nababa then joked that she's been targeted by a serial killer.

A secret admirer, Mike had cooed right after, with a dreamy smile hidden by his moustache.

A stalker, Moblit had grimly concluded, watching Hange with unconcealed worry.

He didn't stop there, too, and out of the kindness of his heart, offered Hange to help her find the identity of the mysterious gifter (or stalker, as Moblit was adamant to call him).

Of course, Hange, fueled by her endless curiousity and even bigger desire to thank that very kind person, agreed instantly. That agreement led to both of them, couped up in her apartment, lying on a couch with more takeout food that they could possibly eat and a lengthy marathon of Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter.

They spent two days not moving from that extremely comfy couch. And the only person who came to her apartment was the delivery guy.

Moblit didn't stop so easily, though. Hange was actually impressed and proud of his determination. When she first met Moblit, he was such a sweet, soft-spoken boy who sometimes got too shy to order at McDonald's. But now he grew up in a resolute, strong man with a big, caring heart.

It's his determination and overprotectiveness that Hange blames for that afternoon when he decided to set up cameras all over her apartment.

They disappeared the very next day.

Moblit didn't wish to give up even then, threatened to watch her apartment from the other side of the street, staring at her window with the help of binoculars, but Hange managed to convince him that it really wasn't that necessary.

After all, the mysterious gifter never tried to harm her. And, well, she's not quite the romantic that Nifa is, and certainly not as romantic as Mike, but- she finds it all extremely endearing. Every time she comes home, no matter how shitty her day has been, and finds a new gift waiting for her, her heart swells and her lips curl in a smile so wide, her face might just break one day.

Of course, she wishes to know the face and name of her admirer (if that indeed who they are, and she is the one who is right, and not Moblit), but she also admits that not knowing... is pretty exciting too. It's so unusual, so romantic, she feels like she lives through a fairytale or a shitty love story.

And it gives her something to munch on, except boring work stuff. Sometimes she indulges in that a little too much, trying to decipher who from her tight circle of acquaintances can be her secret admirer.

Moblit's candidature is the first one to go. Giving his apparent and very loud aversion to the mysterious gifter, he, of course, might just be the very first suspect. But Moblit is the worst liar Hange has ever seen, so she rules him out without a second thought.

Erwin is a definite no as well, he's too busy to indulge in something like that. Besides, he's too straightforward, and even if he wanted something to happen (and wouldn't that be so much fun!), he most probably would have just said so, without resorting to make Hange feel like she's a love interest from those books Mike always reads during his lunch breaks.

Speaking of Mike, he and Nanaba are out of equation too, since Hange has already received an invitation to their wedding.

Hange thinks (hopes) that it's Pieck, a girl she's been hopelessly crushing on since forever, but even she is not so much out of touch with reality to believe that Pieck Finger herself has deigned to shower her with so much affection. The girl is a sweetheart, just not when it comes to Hange, for some reason.

Then there's a matter of Zeke Yeager, who probably, maybe, kind of has a crush on her. At least, that's what he says every time they stumble upon each other. But Hange is not naive enough (thank you very much again, Moblit) to think that his feelings are genuine. Even if they were, Zeke is too arrogant and self-affected to pay so much attention to someone who isn't him.

Of course, there is also Onyakopon. Sweet, funny and very handsome Onyakopon, another one of her assistants. Hange doesn't think it's him either. He's too orderly and straightlaced to endeavor a stunt like that.

There is another suspect, though, one Hange doesn't even fully believe is real.

There was... a guy Hange met in the back alley. It was Friday night, and, as tradition had it, she, Erwin and Mike were having fun at the bar, drinking beer and trading stories about their work days. Hange had walked out to get some fresh air, when she spotted him - a guy probably her age, trembling on his hands and knees with a pool of blood already forming beneath him. Hange - as one should (as one crazy person should, Moblit would have corrected) - hurried to him.

His eyes were unfocused and his face was covered in bruises. He flinched from her touch, almost violently so, reminding Hange of a scared, wounded animal.

She raised up her hands and swore that she only had good intentions.

After a second of just staring at her, the guy relaxed, staggering into her arms.

He didn't tell her his name, didn't explain what happened, only kept repeating "no hospital". So Hange dragged him upwards, swinged his arm over her shoulder and together they stumbled in the direction of her apartment.

Their journey was accompanied by the man's pained gasps and hisses and Moblit's voice inside her head that kept chanting "what the hell are you doing Hange, this man can be a criminal, he can be a thief or a murderer, or a part of the mafia, which means that he's both".

Hange ignored it just as she always did. Moblit was a wise man with a sound mind, but, even though, she was the first to admit and praise his thoughtfulness, Hange never listened to him. It made their relationship more interesting, it made them unique.

Once they tumbled through her front door, Hange almost losing hold of her precious and very hurt charge, she deposited him on her very comfy couch and, making sure that the man stayed put (he didn't need much convincing, could barely turn his head in the direction of her voice), she ran to get the first aid kit.

She hurried back to him and, after taking off his shirt, she learnt that the covered in blood stranger was also extremely ripped.

And, more importantly (Hange, focus!) covered in blood, so much blood, Hange nearly threw up. But beat up or not, she guessed that the stranger wouldn't enjoy it if he suddenly became covered not only in blood, but in her vomit as well. He didn't seem to be that kind of freak.

So Hange tore her eyes away from those abs and focused them on the bruises that bloomed on the left side of his stomach, at the edge of his hip and up on his collarbone. The wide cut that ran down his right side made her doubt her own abilities, she almost reached out for the phone, but then a strong hand curled around her wrist, forcing her to shift her eyes up to his face.

"No hospital," he repeated, his voice raspy like two stones shifting against each other. "Please," he added, when the doubt refused to leave her features.

Hange faltered for a moment more, before surrendering with a heavy sigh. "You brought this on yourself then," she muttered, as she set out to work.

Her hands trembled and her lips quivered every time the man under her gasped or took an overly sharp intake of breath.

He didn't speak though, didn't even curse at her, so Hange decided to take this task upon herself and fill the silence with her own voice.

At first, she talked about herself and work, but then, as she moved from cleaning his wounds to stitching them, her ramblings came in in earnest. She talked and talked, sharing every interesting fact she had ever heard or read.

The man didn't answer, but whenever she looked in his eyes, he looked right back.

His gaze, even basked in pain, set her heart aflame.

But then Hange finished, put a blanket over her patient, gave him her favorite pillow and went to her own bed, exhausted beyond words.

And when she woke up, there was no sign of him. Nothing in her apartment was even able to hint that another person had spent the night there.

Even her couch, which, as she clearly remembered, the guy had bled out on, was now spotless.

Well, not completely spotless. There was a wet stain as though... as though somebody had tried to clean it.

The revelation drove her to laughter.

She wasn't sure how that man could have not only walk out of her apartment without bleeding out to death, but also clean her damn couch, but she was fairly sure he was relatively alright.

She hoped so, at least.

Writing the night's incident as nothing more than, well, a weird accident, she proceeded with her day.

And a week later - the first gift came.

And, maybe, just maybe, it is a coincidence (Hange doesn't believe in such thing, though, she's a scientist, goddamn it), but a part of her hopes the gifts come from that man. She also hopes, perhaps, foolishly so, that she would see him again.

***

It's been extremely long, but surprisingly - because Mike has been nagging her with his wedding preparations and wondering who she would bring as a plus one - unproductive shift. Hange enters her apartment with a tired sigh, wondering if there is a gift at her coffee table that will make it all better.

After kicking off her shoes, the first thing she does is check the coffee table. There is no gift there.

Instead - there is a girl sitting on top of it.

Hange blinks, beyond confused, lifts her glasses and rubs at her eyes. The girl doesn't disappear.

Instead she turns to her, squealing loudly.

"You finally came! We've been waiting here all day!"

Hange numbly nods, and when her brain that works at a sluggish pace registers that the girl said "we", her arm starts reaching out to the baseball bat she keeps in her closet.

"She's pretty," the girl says to someone, turning her head to the side. "Although, doesn't look like an angel with eyes deep as an ocean."

"You forget that he was on painkillers when he said that," that someone scoffs. "And he also said that the eyes looked like ocean of shit, so, really, Levi isn't the best poet."

Levi? An angel? Ocean of shit?

What the hell are those people talking about? And, more importantly, what the hell are they doing inside her apartment?

Hange touches the handle of a bat, her fingers are curled around the hilt when the girl turns back to her.

"Hi!" she waves and the outstretches her hand, tugging at someone's sleeve. A guy comes into Hange's view - tall and lanky, with short light hair. He waves at her too and curls up his lips, although his smile isn't nearly as bright as his friend's.

"Hello," Hange answers slowly, heart hammering in her chest. So this is it? She really is going to die? She wonders if the bat can save her. There are two of them and they got inside her apartment without any sign of forced entry. They're clearly very skillful. And, possibly, more deadly that her bat could ever hope to become.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" she asks it tentatively, careful not to provoke them.

"We came to say hi!" the girl's smile grows even wider. She bobs her head from side to side, her pigtails swinging in the air. If the situation had been at least a little bit different, Hange would have found her endearing. Maybe, even offered her the candies she always keeps in the pocket of her jacket.

"We won't harm you," the guy says, rising his hands to prove that he's unarmed. "We just want to talk."

"And ask you for a favor!" the girl adds in a singing voice.

"A f-favor?" Hange shifts her gaze from one intruder to another, thinking if maybe she should call the police? She will, she decides. But after she hears what favor they need from her.

Your curiosity will be the end of you, Hange, Moblit's voice chides in her head.

"You know about the gifts, right?" the guy wonders.

Hange nods. "The one that always appear on a coffee table."

The duo frown.

"You didn't check the closet?" the girl asks.

"And under your bed?" the guy adds.

"Um..." Hange scratches her neck, feeling it warm up under their confused stares. "I'll go check there right now."

"No!" the girl surges forward, seizing her hand. Hange tenses immediately, thoughts "they're going to kill me, this is it, I'm going to die" racing through her.

But then nothing happens, and the girl even steps back when she notes Hange's discomfort.

"We just want you to meet someone," she says, and her sweet voice coupled with those adorable puppy eyed look make Hange resolve crumble.

Your kindness and immense trust in people would get you killed someday too, Moblit scolds her again.

"We just need to take some precautions, if you don't mind," the guy speaks up. Hange's throat closes up when he takes out a white handkerchief. "But you will be safe, I promise."

You're going to get kidnapped and then killed, Moblit continues to nag, and then I'm going to come to your funeral, stand over your grave and say I told you so.

Hange ignores the voice in her head the same way she usually ignores Moblit's warnings at work. She nods again, and then the guy comes behind her and takes off her glasses, wrapping the handkerchief around her eyes.

"You guys are into really kinky stuff?" she jokes as he starts pushing her forward.

The girl at her side snickers. The guy groans, muttering, "God, you'll make a great pair."

***

Thankfully, they take the handkerchief off before pushing her through the door of some old, battered up building. The floors are creaky and the windows are shattered in some places, but the building is clean.

Exceptionally clean, much better than her apartment.

The gears in her head start turning, as Hange remembers a stranger who scrubbed out a blood stain from her couch while probably still bleeding. The suspicions continue to grow when the guy - Farlan, he introduced himself on their way there - leads her to a room upstairs.

Inside stands a couch, nearly not as comfy as hers, and an old, grainy TV. On a floor next to it sits a guy. He wears a grey t-shirt, so his abs are not on display this time, but Hange recognises the stranger she saved right off the bat.

She wants to exclaim "you!" and point a very accusing finger at him, but he beats her to it.

"Isabel," he narrows his eyes, staring the girl down. She stares back, unflinching, her smile sweet like a candy. "Farlan," he turns to him, his gaze even darker.

"Saw her standing at our entrance," Farlan explains, overly flippant. "Says she wanted to meet ya."

"We'll leave you to it!" Isabel chirps, giving Hange's hand a quick squeeze and then turning around.

"R-right," Farlan starts moving too. "Izzy and I forgot to buy groceries. Have fun, Levi!"

The door after them closes with a loud bang, and suddenly Hange is alone with a guy who possibly (she didn't prove it yet) spent the last months breaking into her apartment and leaving gifts not only on a coffee table, but inside a closet and under the bed as well.

"So," she begins, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Perhaps, the tension wouldn't be so unbearable if the guy - Levi - stopped staring at her so intently. "You've been giving me all these gifts?"

"Kinda," he admits, and breathing comes a little bit easier when he turns his gaze downwards.

Although, Hange notes with a sort of sobering bewilderment, his eyes are really, really nice, and she really wants to see more of them.

"You know that's really creepy?" she asks, delighting in the way his shoulders tense. "You made my friend worry."

"That idiot?" Levi lets a tch sound. "The one with the shitty cameras? Almost got caught by that fucker."

"So why did you go through all that trouble?"

"Just wanted to thank you," he mumbles. "For saving my life back then."

"Could have just said so," Hange advises. She takes a pause - a long one - to prepare him for her next words. Truth be told, she needs to prepare for it too. "You could have asked me out on a date too."

He looks up so quickly, Hange wants to laugh. She wants to, but she can't, because there is a lump in her throat that would only disappear after Levi gives her an answer.

He holds her gaze for a long, long time. Hange feels like she can't breathe, and she thinks Levi is doing that on purpose. Maybe, it's a payback for her earlier teasing.

"There is a waffle house around the corner," he jerks his thumb in the general direction. "It's not as nice as the one next to your house, but if you want-"

"I do," Hange cuts him off, and then laughs at his surprised expression. "I wanted to ever since I found you that night," she admits softly.

"When I was bleeding out on a street?" he asks incredulously. "You're a freak, four-year."

"Oh please," Hange rolls her eyes, playfully punching his arm. "You're the one to talk. Eyes as deep as the ocean of shit?" she quotes.

Levi's ears catch fire. "I told them to never bring that up," he mutters, his fists clenching.

"It's kinda cute, if I'm being honest," Hange confesses, grinning at Levi. "Not exactly flattering, but certainly creative."

"God," he groans again. "Are you always that insufferable?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Good," Levi murmurs.

Hange's heart flutters and she reaches out for his hand, holding it in hers and intertwining their fingers. Levi - in a stark contrast to the their first meeting - lets her.

They start walking, still hand in hand, and Hange feels like the main character from the love stories Mike likes to read so much.

Levi looks up at her with a faint smile on his lips, and Hange feels like her grand romantic adventure has just began.

#/comes back after several days of no activity not to post any of my wips but give you THIS/#whatever this is lmao #levihan

142 notes · View notes

harrysgloves · 3 years

Text

This Will Be Our Year

Summary: Harry comes home with you for your family New Year’s dinner.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Language. Shitty families. Smut/ Harry’s got a filthy mouth.

A/N: Okay, lets all pretend that I got this out on Saturday instead of Tuesday... Big shout out to @meetmeinfleetwood for making this “to lovers” fic challenge. It was the first fic challenge I’ve ever done! And I loved trying to figure this one out.

I picked ‘Friends to Lovers’ with the prompts: “You think anyone heard us?” & “You keep that photo of us in your wallet?”

>>>

You didn't miss the upward turn of your best friends' lip when you anxiously readjusted the hem of your dress for the millionth time. You didn't even bother trying to steady your shaky hands as they tugged down on lacy black fabric that touched a few inches above where you normally wore your skirts or shorts

"Stop it." You huffed as he let out the tiniest breath of a laugh at your struggle.

"Sorry, love, think y'look great." He smiled that lazy half smirk that made your stomach flutter but you had no time to worry about that right now. No, right now, you were on your way to visit your parents for the first time in a year.

The excuses of being busy with work, having no time to travel, not having the money for it, or literally any other excuse you could come up with had finally stopped working. Your mother fully demanded for you to come back home for the traditional New Year's dinner your family had every first weekend of the new year. You would have said no, but the second her disappointed voice floated in from the other end of the phone, you knew there was no way out.

You deeply loved your immediate family. It was the extended family that you could go without. The bitchy cousins who always seemed to be doing better in life than you. Know-it-all Aunts who gave you unwelcomed dating advice or worse, they'd sit and examine why you didn't have a man

"Yeh sure 'bout this?" He asked from the driver seat, his hand grasped on the wheel so tight you could see his knuckles turning white. "We could fake sick or somethin' if yeh want out. Bad gas station sushi, maybe."

A smile broke across your solemn face. The snort of a laugh that creaked out of your lungs washed a bit of relief over Harry. His hands gently lifted pressure from the wheel.

"Gas station sushi is the best you could come up with?" You teased from beside him, head turning just in time to see that dimpled smile you loved so much.

"Wha' not believable?" He grinned, playful green eyes shot your way before focusing back on the road.

You shook your head no as silence fell over the car again. Only one more turn and you'd be there.

"If yeh get uncomfortable, just tug on my shirt and we'll go, yeah?" He said as the gravel from your parents driveway crunched under the car's weight. Your stomach churned at the sight of everyone else already there. Anxiety flaring deep inside of your body, your chest suddenly felt tighter even when you let out a deep breath.

"It'll be okay." Harry said after a moment of letting you try to calm down. His ring filled hand enveloped your own shaky hand that rested on your lap. A calm washed over you from his touch. His warm hands melted away the troubled feeling that was lurking in the depths of your soul.

"I'm sorry in advance for whatever they say." You mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze. You missed the small up turn of his lips from your action, the way his cheeks tinted the softest shade of pink. You thought his cough was to dismiss what you'd said, not knowing it was him trying to himself that you only saw him as a friend.

"'M pretty sure I can handle them, love." He smiled even though you shot him a very unimpressed look. "Wha'? I survived Simon Cowell, think I got yeh family."

"Shut up." You chuckled as you brushed your hand off your leg. The other flung open the car door before you had a chance to chicken out.

>>>

Dragging Harry along for this dinner was the best idea you'd ever had in your whole life. Your family's attention was so far off you that you barely talked the hour before dinner and Harry was handling all the attention like a champ. His hand pressed to your lower back as your uncle grilled him about every famous person he'd ever met.

"Wait, so you're telling me that you know The Mick Jagger?" Your uncle looked a second away from breaking into a full out fangirl attack. Your lips rolled in your mouth to stifle the laugh that was bubbling in your throat before a harsh squeeze on your hips from Harry had you glaring daggers into him.

He nodded his head full of soft flowly curls, that you always wanted to run your fingers through, before shooting a smirk down to you.

He was living for this. He loved being able to touch you, lead you around to talk to people. Adored when you playfully shoved him with your shoulder when he said something embarrassing about you. He tried to be as cool, calm, and collected as he could but when you fully leaned into his side his breathing caught in his throat. His hand pressed tighter into you, mostly to hide how much it was quivering from your closeness.

He had tried for over a year to come up with a way to tell you he wanted to be more than a friend. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be more since the night you two met, but he was too insecure about himself to speak up. You were just so vibrant. Your laugh, your smile, the way you talked with demand but was always such a sensitive soul.

He was absolutely fucked for you and you had no damn idea.

You always thought he was too out of your league to even begin to entertain the want of something else with him. He was the great Harry Styles and well, you were just you. You, who happened to be friends with Glenne, who dragged you to a bar for a karaoke night almost two years ago. The rest between you and him was history. You'd gotten along so well and at first, you thought, it might have turned into something more, but he never tried anything more than stupid flirty banter which he seemed to do with just about anyone. So, you dropped it. Moved on. Now he was just Harry, you're really good, super hot, you may think about him when you meditate late at night, friend.

"Gonna get more wine." You said after you drank the last drop from the glass in your hand. You were going to need so much more wine if you were going to be listening to your uncle for the next 45 minutes until dinner was ready.

"Will y'bring me some too?" Harry asked with a glimmer of desperation in his eyes. You figured maybe he'd need the alcohol more than you did tonight. He had been putting up with a lot of crap from your family.

You nodded your head yes before taking off through the hallways you used to run down when you were a kid, towards the kitchen. Your mind lost in a hazy of memories of you learning to ride your bike on your mothers freshly polished floors while the babysitter sat on your house phone with her boyfriend all night. The time your brother told you carving your names into the fancy trim along the bottom of the floor meant you two would live forever.

The memories came to a screeching halt when you finally rounded the corner to the kitchen. Your cousin aka the bitch you hated most in the world lounged casually on the counter, her back towards you as she chatted with a friend she had brought along.

"Didn't think I was going to meet Harry fucking Styles. Would have at least done my hair." The girl you didn't know huffed out as you pressed your back to the wall. Desperate to get away from both of them. Suddenly you felt 12 again, hiding from Shannon before she had a chance to torment you.

"Not like you even need it. You already look better than Y/N without it." Shannon snorted out that nails-on-a-chalkboard laugh as your stomach sank.

"True, girl is a bit mousy."

"Don't forget annoying. Can't believe someone famous is hanging out with her."

A part of you wanted to turn around and walk away, but the other part was morbidly interested in what she said behind your back. Maybe, whatever she had to say, was what everyone said about you two when you weren't around.

"Think they're dating?"

"Fuck no." She scoffed with so much certainty behind her voice it made you cringe. You knew it was a bit dumb, especially since you tried to not picture yourself with him as much as possible but it still hurt. "Y/N's boring and bland as hell. He's probably too nice to tell her that he isn't interested and he feels bad that she never has any friends or a boyfriend."

You knew you should have walked away when you had the chance. Every word that was uttered by the voice that caused your childhood trauma floated into your mind with daggers.

Every bad thing you thought about yourself. Every reason you thought Harry would never like you was now confirmed by someone else.

"It's like his charity work for the year or something."

The last sentence was the one that broke you. Your eyes filled with tears as your feet finally unglued themselves from the permanent spot they seemed to be in. You ran for the safety of your childhood bedroom. Your mind too preoccupied with the thought that maybe, he did feel that way about you, to pay attention to anything else around you. You didn't register that Harry was only a few feet away from you when you slammed yourself into your old room.

The knocks on your door didn't bother you. You could care less to explain to our mom right now about what happened but tried your best to pull yourself together anyways. Your crying turned to quite sniffling when the knocks came again.

"Y/N, wha's wrong?" His anxious voice echoed through your door causing all tears or sniffles to stop immediately in their tracks. What the hell were you going to tell him? Your mind panicked for some lie you could use to cover up the fact you had a breakdown when the door opened, the hard metal of the door knob pushed you out of the way.

"'M sorry fo' comin' in but I saw yeh cryin' and I had to check on yeh." He mumbled uncomfortably from beside you as he shut the door again. "Wha' happened?"

"'S nothin'," you said as you dried your own eyes with the back of your hand. "Just, my cousin saying shit. I just took it a bit too personal for no reason."

"'M sorry, petal." He cooed as his hand stroked the rest of your eyes off your cheeks away. Your head instantly nuzzled into his warmth. "Wha' was she goin' on 'bout?"

You tried your best to not tense up. Your eyes remained shut, head buried harder against his hand that still hadn't moved from your face.

"Told you, it's nothing. Really, it was dumb and I just- it's stupid H."

"'S not stupid if it made y'cry." He frowned deeply as he lifted your chin up. Your eyes finally fluttered open to see disappointed written all across his face.

"She just-" you sighed, feeling dumb for being caught up in the moment. Her words stung but your knee-jerk reaction to cry was a bit over the top. You were embarrassed, your skin heated as his eyes trained on you. You desperately tried to look anywhere but him- the floor, the dresser, the door- anywhere. "She just… she said some things to her friend about how boring and bland I am. Said I had no friends and blah blah blah. Just dumb stuff."

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable talking about what had happened. You gave him the geist of it without having to divulge into the whole story. You figured it was better to leave the part about you being charity work for him out of it. An angry Harry was the last thing you wanted to deal with today.

"Yeh the least boring person I know." He said, finally breaking the silence. "And yeh far from bland. I mean, look at yeh," he gestured to your outfit, his eyes sparked as your face heated from the attention he was giving you.

"Shut up." You groaned, hands covering your burning face as he wrapped you up in a hug. His chest vibrated with chuckles as you buried your head into the crook of his arm.

"Come on, don't be embarrassed." His chin rested on your head as you fought to keep the pink blush across your face at bay. "Know I think yeh pretty. Prettiest petal've ever met."

You could feel his body straighten up. Almost as if he got uncomfortable with being so forward with you. His hands held around you just a bit tighter and you could physically hear his heart start to race. You started to realize, maybe, just maybe, you'd been reading all the signs wrong.

You pulled away from him slightly, your lips rolled in your mouth as you peered up to him. The blush that lingered across his nose ran to both cheeks. His jaw clenched together, shifty eyes finally met yours after a long moment of avoiding your gaze. You could see gears turning in his mind.

"H?" You barely breathed out before he surged forward, his lips met yours with so force you were almost thrown off balance. Your hands quickly grabbed on his forearms to steady yourself. Your nails dug into the soft silk fabric of his sleeves as your mouth desperately tried to keep up with his frantic movements.

It was everything you'd ever imagined kissing Harry would be like. Soft, amazing lips pressed to yours. Warmth flooded your system, almost like he was bringing you back to life. His hand rested on your cheek as he pulled you closer, other hand around your waist, helping you keep balance on your tiptoes. Even if it was a bit rushed, it was perfect to you.

But then you felt him go rigid again.

"I shouldn't 'ave done that. 'M so sorry, Y/N, I know yeh don't like me like that and I got caught up and, and-nd, fuck 'm so sorry-" he rushed out in a ramble the second his lips parted from yours. Your eyes barely opened by the time he'd finished his rushed out speech. His hands ran nervously through his curls. Panic radiated off him.

"Who said I didn't like you?" You asked, halfway out of breath. His hands fell from his perfectly messy hair, down to his side. His mouth gaped open as he blinked slowly at your words.

"I, well, I thought-" He trailed off as you both stood there completely dumbfounded.

You'd both liked each other this whole damn time.

"We're idiots." You giggled. Quickly ceasing the opportunity to close to space between you two again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him to your level. This time, he was the one pleasantly surprised. The light humph out of him only fueled your fire as you dominated the kiss. Your tongue ran across his bottom lips, begging him to let you in. Tongues danced together in an unknown language as his arms circled you again. Holding you close as your fingers ran through the back of his hair.

It was quick. Both of you moved so fast, desperate for more. More touch, more skin contact. You felt that desire you'd pushed to the side flame to the surface as you both stumbled for balance. Your back was pressed tightly against the door after you both got your footing.

Kissing was easy, but kissing passionately in an unknown space when you could give two shits-less about anything but each other, was hard.

It wasn't long before the scruff on his face was burning into your sensitive and puffy lips. He'd taken over control over your mouth so long ago you had no idea where you started and he ended. Your hands, along with his, roamed uncharted territory of each other's bodies. Small gasps and light whimpers were flooding the room but you couldn't be bothered with caring right now. You were finally getting what you wanted, him.

"We should stop." He groaned, half annoyed with himself for trying to be considerate to your family. His forehead rested against yours as you both breathed in deeply.

You whined in protest at his words, your hips involuntarily grinded against him in a sense of desperation. He had winded you up like a damn play toy. He breathed a laugh at your neediness, his head shaking but you could see those dimples popping out when you stared up at him with doe-eyes.

"Don't wanna fuck yeh fo' the first time in your parents house, lovie." He smiled widely as you let out a disappointed huff. Sure, you understood his point but that throbbing in core wasn't going to be going away any time soon.

Harry considered it for a moment as he looked down to your glistening chest that was heaving in deep breaths. The swells of your breast had always been mesmerizing but, fuck, right now they look irresistable. His sight finally moved off your chest to your swollen and puffy mouth. He groaned at the sight, his mind instantly wondering if your other lips would look as beautiful when he was done with them.

His hand moved on it's own accord. Slipping up your dress, to your absolutely drenched panties. Your lip tucked under your lip, hips bucking in a need for more when you heard the most glorious moan fall from his lips.

"Can't leave y'like this, now can I, pup?" His lust filled eyes seemed to darken when you shook your head no. Your ruined underwear pushed to the side by his fingers, his breathing catching in his throat from just how fucking wet you were.

You whimpered and whined as he took his time leisurely circling around your clit, his finger skimming across your needy hole only teased you further. You could feel your nipples pebble against the roughness of your bra, feeling left out of the action, but you weren't complaining.

"Quiet, or yeh gonna get us caught, sweetheart." Harry tried to scold you but you didn't miss the smug look of pride that sat on his lips. "Gonna have to keep you quiet, sweet girl." His free hand moved from the door, to your mouth. Three fingers tapped against your lips for you to open and holy fuck, you didn't think this would be happening today.

A chill went down your spine as his fingers sat heavy on your tongue. He licked his lips as he watched you mimicked how good you'd suck him off later when two fingers entered you quickly.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathed out, the situation in his pants grew impossibly bigger while you moaned wildly against his fingers. "Jesus, fuck, yeh so tight. Gonna 'ave to prep yeh fo' me later, sweetheart."

You could barely register his words as he pumped into you again. His thumb pressed against your aching numb. He was reaching places inside of you that you'd never been able to reach. Places that you had no idea could feel this good. All sense of control left you as he hit that spot. His hand quickly pulled from your mouth to cup over top of it.

"Sing so pretty fo' me, puppy. Can't wait to hear how you sound when y'on my cock." Your walls quivered at his words, your juices dripped further down your leg as you began to quickly approach your end.

"'M ruin this little pussy later, gonna fuck y'until yeh can't handle it anymore." He started to ramble about how good you felt, how tight you were, how he was going to stretch you over his cock so good tonight that he'd ruin you. Your legs started to shake as your mind melted into a goo of pleasure.

"Fuck, yeh like when I talk to yeh like that, don't yeh sweetheart?" You weakly nodded at his words, his hand around your mouth making it impossible to say anything but it wasn't like you'd be able to speak right now anyways. His fingers curled inside of you, pumping, his thumb switching from light touches to hard pressure. "I'd let y'talk to me like that later tonight but my dick is gonna be shoved in all the holes I can get into, puppy."

You could feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as the overwhelming flood of your release washed over you. Blinding white lights of adrenaline ran through your veins as you let out a guttural moan from a depth you had no idea existed inside of you.

You were a panting hot mess when his hands finally left your body. Sweet kisses pressed to your lips to calm you down.

"Do y'think anyone heard us?" Harry asked, his lips still hovering over your mouth as you let out a croak laugh.

"You think I care about that right now?" Your eyebrows raised as you peered up to him. His smile growing by the second as he wrapped you in a hug. "Come on, let's go, you have a few promises you made about tonight that I want to hold you to." You giggled as his cheeks flamed red, your hand reached for his but he didn't move. His boy glued in place as his eyes scanned around your old room.

"What?" You asked as you turned around to see him studying every inch of your childhood.

"I didn't get to see it earlier." He shrugged a bit, trying to not seem like he was hyper focused on every detail. Your pile of old notebooks your mother kept "just incase you ever wanted them again", your old dresser that you'd painted at some point, your rose pattern bedspread, the mountain of books and magazines that were shoved away.

"Wha's this?" He pointed to the huge wall that was covered in nothing but pictures.

"Oh, uhm, I used to put pictures of me and my friends on my wall. You know, like people used to do before Facebook." Harry chuckled as he shook his head at you. His hand fished into his back pocket as he moved away from you.

"What- what are you doing?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowed tightly together as you moved towards him. The picture of your and Harry's drunken photo booth session from New Year's last year in his hand.

"You keep that photo of us in your wallet?" You finally asked after he pinned it on your wall. His cheeky smile across his face as he threw an arm over your shoulder.

"Yup." He smiled widely as you chuckled from beside him. Your arm rested around his waist.

"Dork."

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #fanfic #fanfiction #to lovers fic challenge #writing #mine

390 notes · View notes

candychronicles · 3 years

Text

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

266 notes · View notes