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buttercream-squad-imagines · 3 years

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Tinder in Real Life

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Sidemen x platonic!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Language some people may find offensive, sexual themes, recycled lines from Sidemen Tinder in Real Life because I'm not at all creative Request: Hey! Could you do reader x Harry imagine where the sidemen do a collab video with the reader who is also a big youtuber and Harrys celebrity crush. And during the video the reader is very flirty, leaving Harry a flustered mess when the flirting is directed towards him, but very jealous when its with any other sidemen.

The Sidemen were one of the biggest groups on YouTube and one that you were very familiar with. At the age of 23, you were a fair bit younger than some of its oldest members but yet you had a close relationship with JJ, whom you had met through YouTube.

You had started your channel when you were 17, just under four years ago, making makeup videos, which was a passion of yours when you were younger. Not that you were any good at it back then. Those videos quickly become unlisted when your channel started blowing up in late 2016, now nearing 20 million at the present time.

It wasn't long before you expanded your horizons and had started making different sorts of videos, including vlogs of your everyday life - which wasn't and still isn't that exciting in your opinion - and those where you just had a laugh, attempting to do stupid challenges that were so popular back then. It was those, however, that grew your channel. Your fans seemed to love them and so you gradually started to make more.

As your small channel began to grow significantly, it caught the attention of KSI, a member of the Sidemen, who reached out to you to for a collab. You were ecstatic. You couldn't believe it at the time, why would someone like KSI with 20 million subscribers want to collaborate with you? By that time, you couldn't exactly call yourself a small channel anymore, with almost 5 million subscribers but it still didn't make any sense to you.

You and JJ quickly bonded after filming together. You had a very similar sense of humour and interests. As the years went, the older boy became one of your best friends, the nature of your relationship being very teasing and flirtatious but the both of you knew it was a joke. It was just the way you both were.

Though despite having known him for nearing 3 years now, you had never met the rest of the Sidemen, with the exception of Simon, as he lived with JJ. Which is why when he texted asking you to collaborate with the Sidemen, you couldn't turn the offer down. You were a fan of the group and the content they were producing. You thought the videos that they made were exceptional, that they were pushing the envelope of the standard of content on YouTube and often found yourself excited for new videos.

He had explained that they were filming another of their 'Tinder in real life' but a YouTuber version with the likes of BambinoBecky and ChiWithAC. You were so excited. You were finally going to meet the rest of JJ's friends and you had the opportunity to be a part of a Sidemen Sunday.

You arrived at the studio the boys were filming at in the afternoon, finding and greeting JJ before he introduced you to the other sidemen in addition to Lux, Freezy and Stephen.

"And you've already met Simon." He finished.

"Yeah. Nice to finally meet you all. JJ tells me a lot about you guys." You laughed.

"Because that's assuring." Ethan pointed out with a chuckle, the other boys letting out agreements.

"Not all bad, I promise." You teased, winking at him. Ethan felt the blood rushing to his face, immediately becoming flustered and stumbling over his words. You found that you often had that effect on people as you could be very direct and flirtatious even when you didn't mean it. To you it was just friendly banter.

"Geez Y/N, stop flirting with people you met literally five minutes ago." JJ rolled his eyes.

"You sound a bit jealous, Jide." You smirked, a teasing grin spread across your face.

"Nah, allow it." There were eruptions of laughter around the room, coming from the boys. You were quick to notice Harry standing out of the way and was significantly quieter than the others, with what seemed to be a forced smile on his face.

Harry was in his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. When JJ had told him that you were going to be in the next Sidemen video, he panicked. You were an accomplished YouTuber who he was quite fond of to say the least. Well, that would be an understatement, he had a fairly large crush on you. A crush that no one but Freezy and Lux knew about.

He knew that JJ had been friends with you for some time now but never considered the possibility of even meeting you. His anxiety acted as a barrier to even the thought of it. But he was currently in the same room as you and had said nothing more than a short 'hello'. He longed to have the confidence Ethan had to speak to you, even more so for you to look at him the way you were.

Already you were flirting with JJ and Ethan, something that caused a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach. He wouldn't admit it, but he could slowly feel the jealousy forming. Not that he had anything to be jealous about in the first place!

You continued to speak with the boys as you got your mic set up, telling them stories you were sure would embarrass JJ.

"Y/N, stop." The older boy whined. He could be like a child sometimes, but it was one of his more endearing qualities. He simply wouldn't be JJ if he wasn't.

"No, carry on." Simon laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from." You teased.

"I think it's time we started, don't you think?" Harry grumbled.

"Right." You smiled at the boy, who's cheeks became tinted red. He ducked to hide his face and walked around to stand in the line, hiding himself in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm 23 and I'm from Y/H/T." You spoke to the camera once you were given the go ahead.

"I'm Simon, I'm 28. I like to practice safe sex."

"Always a good start."

"I could tie you to the bed, so you don't fall off." He finished with a giggle. You acted like you were pondering it for a moment before letting out a laugh and swiping right.

"I'm down for that." You teased. The boys all let out rumbles of laughter

"Hi, I'm Ethan, I'm 26 and kiss me if I'm wrong, but you're gonna swipe right."

"What would you rather?" You joked. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and walked closer to the board, sticking his head through with his lips puckered, eliciting a cry of protest from Harry that this wasn't allowed. You laughed and made an over exaggerated motion to swipe to the right, causing him to pout playfully but walked over to the right anyway.

"Hi, I'm Josh, I'm 28. KSI has a top ten single, but you're the only hot single I can see."

"Wow, that was smooth!" You said with a grin. "Definite yes from me."

"I'm Callum, I'm 26. Are you into fitness?" Freezy asked.

"Can't say I am." You replied, unsure of what turn this could take.

"How about you fitness dick in your mouth?"

"I wouldn't get too excited babes, I gag on my toothbrush." You laughed. "We could try though."

You swiped right on him, chuckling as you watched him let out a yes before joining Simon, Ethan, and Josh. You frowned slightly, a crease forming between your brows as you saw Harry whisper something furiously at his friend but ultimately got distracted by Vik stepping up to go next.

"I'm Vik, I'm 25. My ex-girlfriend always said I'd never do better than her, wanna prove her right?" You could hear the cries of the boys in the background, some scolding him, others laughing.

"Man actually said prove her right. Not wrong." JJ shrieked with a shocked look on his face, holding his head with his hands.

"You need to find someone for that." You snarked, swiping left on the boy, who shrugged and walked off.

"Damn! You got told!" Lux cackled.

"Uh hi. I'm Harry. I'm uh 25, no I'm not I'm 24." He stumbled. "Are you sure you're a muggle? Because that ass is magical."

"You should see how magical it can be." You spoke before cringing at yourself and laughing, swiping right to avoid a reply. The boy's face grew a bright shade of red, closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

"Geez, is that an offer?!" Freezy yelled from the right side. You laughed, observing how Harry whispered furiously to the boy to stop and winked at him once he had could see. Your laughter only increased as you watched JJ step up.

"I'm JJ. I'm 28 and are you a raisin? Cause you're raising my dick." The boy in question stood in front of you so confidently, hands clasped together in front of him so seriously that you just lost it. By the time you composed yourself, there were tears almost falling from your eyes.

"A* for effort." You laughed, swiping right eliciting a cry of success.

You had wrapped up filming your segment of the video, which conveniently was the last of the day. You found JJ who you spoke to whilst the other boys were otherwise occupied talking to each other.

"Cheers for coming, Y/N/N. You've been great."

"Anything for you." You joked.

"Don't tempt me." He laughed. You could feel eyes on you, eyes that were burning into your side. You turned your head to see Harry staring you and JJ down before looking away after being caught in the act, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Does Harry not like me or something?" You whispered to JJ, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Not that I know of." He frowned looking at the younger boy. "He can be a bit awkward at times and gets flustered a lot."

"Right." You agreed. You excused yourself before sauntering up to the boy in question, calling his name to snap him out of the daze he appeared to be in.

"Oh, um hey Y/N." He stumbled.

"Hi." You smiled gently. "I uh, I was just wondering, do you... have I done something to offend you?"

"Offend me? Why, uh, why would you think that?" He rambled.

"It's just... it's nothing, it's probably just me overthinking things." You waved it off, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I don't like you. I don't not like you, in fact I really like you! Oh, um I mean I like you, you're very pretty." The boy couldn't stop rambling which made you laugh. "No, wait."

"You think I'm pretty?" You blushed interrupting him. Harry felt his mouth go dry, not being able to get anything coherent to come out. "Well, Harry, I really like you too."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up so far it was almost comical. "Really? So, you don't like the other guys?"

"What? No." You laughed. "That's absurd. Why would you think that?"

"You seemed very..." The boy trailed off, not wanting to offend you after you had admitted to liking him.

"Flirty?" You finished, causing him to nod. "I'm like that with everyone, I don't mean to be half the time."

"Oh."

"Well, how about you give me your phone number and when you finally grow a pair, you can ask me out?" Your confidence levels had shot up spontaneously.

"Uh, sure." His cheeks had become a dark shade of red as he passed his phone to you so you could put your number in. You kept looking up at him as you typed, putting your name under 'Y/N x' in his contacts before handing it back to him.

"Y/N! Come on! We're going to Nando's!" JJ called from the other side of the room.

"Call me." You winked. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and was currently the only thing from stopping the wide grin from spreading across your face. A grin that hadn't disappeared from your face for the rest of the day, much to the curiosity of JJ, who was disappointed when you refused to tell him why, or more appropriately who, had put the smile on your face.

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ko-riacchi · 3 years

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Live Stream

Pairing: Shigaraki x F!Reader Genre: Smut, Angst Length: 4,3k

WARNINGS: NONCON!

Thank you to @cultbabyyy who read through it as soon as I was done And thank you to @kazooli whose fics made me realize that I can write whatever the fuck I want

(Inspired by Yagami Yato’s Shigaraki Pt.3 audio)

Tomura was a man-child. Which meant that when he had a new toy, he couldn’t help himself but to rub it in other people’s faces that he had something that they – in fact – no longer had.

The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the computer screen and the various sources of blue light stemming from the computer tower, mouse and keyboard.

Tomura sat in his computer chair, arms possessively wrapped around your form and you wriggled and squirmed in his grip, trying to get loose.

“Now, now,” Tomura rasped into your ear. “Don’t struggle too much. You wouldn’t want any accidents to happen, now would you?”

Your face scrunched up and you bit your lip, knowing exactly what Tomura could do to you – even accidentally – and you stilled in his grasp.

His right hand left your figure now that you were placated and grabbed the computer mouse, the sound of it clicking reverberating through the otherwise quiet room.

You weren’t particularly interested in whatever he was doing on his computer, so you let your eyes wander through the room. You needed to find a way to get out of this situation, this room and especially this dangerous hold that he had over you.

You knew that the first two were comparatively easy to achieve, once you had successfully managed to pull off the latter one. After all, you hadn’t managed to become a pro hero without learning a skill or two.

But your offensive quirk just wasn’t suited to squirm free of his grasp without potentially getting disintegrated should all of his five fingers touch your body. Usually, you were quite content with your abilities but right now you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not being born with a quirk more similar to the one of your old teacher, Eraserhead.

Your gaze continued to examine the room, trying to find anything at all that could help you in your predicament. But mostly, the shelves were littered with games upon games, accompanied by the corresponding console. Behind you, a bed stood in the corner of the room, the sheets thrown on it carelessly. While those may not be able to aid you in your initial quest to rid yourself of his dangerous hands, you would be able to use them to cut off his vision once you had gotten free – even if it was just for a second.

Your thought process was interrupted by Tomura, whose hand slid back to your body, grasping your hip in his hand while making sure that his pinky was lifted as to not accidentally kill you.

“Now we just have to wait for a few more minutes and the show can get started,” he said, his hands leisurely beginning to stroke your sides.

“Show?” you echoed confused and for the first time, your focus landed on the computer screen in front of you where a website you didn’t recognize was opened.

What you did recognize however, was the screen in the middle which reflected your own surprised face and the grinning one of Tomura behind you. Your eyes flitted to the top of the monitor to find a small camera on top, the little red light on the bottom center telling you that it was currently recording.

Back on the monitor screen, your eyes zoomed in on a small number in the corner and quickly you concluded that it showed the current viewer number of what obviously was a live stream.

“Wh-what are you planning, Shigaraki?” you asked him and turned your head and upper body so you could look in his eyes.

His gaze locked on to yours and a grin stretched across his face, cracked lips quickly moistened by his tongue so they wouldn’t crack further.

“Why, I thought since I’ve got you here, it would be a… shame not to share all the fun we’re about to have with the world,” he explained. “I even sent some links out to your dear colleagues, wouldn’t want them to miss out on it, now would we?”

Your eyes darted back to the monitor for a second, the viewer counter steadily rising, before you locked your eyes with Tomura again.

“It doesn’t matter in what way you’ll try to hurt me. I’m a hero, for God’s sake, don’t think I’m not used to pain. All you’re going to achieve by streaming this, is that my colleagues will trace the IP and find this place even faster.” You sent him a defiant look.

Tomura erupted into cackling laughter, sounding like the crazy madman he was. “Hurt you? Oh no no no no, I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not going to hurt you.” His right hand moved upwards to grip the top of your hero uniform; his pinky raised by acquired habit.

“Rather, I thought…” he continued, his grip hardening around the sturdy material before he purposefully burrowed his hand in it. “We could have some fun in a different way.”

Your horrified gaze went towards your chest, where the material of your suit began to crumble away in ashes, opening the view to your undergarments.

“Fuck you!” you screamed and started to struggle in his grasp. His left hand gripped your side harder, pinky raised, while his right hand came up to grip your chin.

“N’ah, ah, ah,” he chided you and his grip on your chin became painful. “Don’t forget that I hold your life in my hands.”

Before you had the chance to reply to him, his lips descended upon yours. His kiss was harsh and bruising, the feeling of his chapped lips uncomfortable on yours. You tried to break free of his hold, but it was futile. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked your lips, hoping to gain entry. You pressed them together more fiercely, your jaw gnashing with the force you brought up to keep your mouth closed.

Tomura clicked his tongue in disapproval. He took his mouth off you for a second to take a look at your tense face.

“Now, now, doll, while it would be a shame if this level was too easy to clear, I think you still don’t understand exactly in what situation you are currently in.”

As if to prove his point, his hand lifted from your jaw and gripped the fabric of your sports bra with all of his fingers. Instantly, the material began to crumble away under his grip until all that remained was a small heap of ashes on your legs.

Now, with nothing to cover your shame, your face burned with embarrassment and your arms shot up to cover your breasts.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me,” Tomura grinned and grabbed your arms to pull them away from your chest. “I’m sure your viewers would love to get a good look at you.”

You tried to fight his grip, but his raw strength was far superior to yours, so you had no chance but to uncover your breasts for everyone to see. Your eyes felt hot and began to sting but you refused to let any tears fall. A hero didn’t cry, no matter how dire the situation got. On the screen, you saw an influx of messages on the chat, not even bothering to try and read the contents; you were sure that it wasn’t something you would actually want to read.

Before Tomura could continue to embarrass you further, a “ding” sounded from the computer speaker into the silence of the room. This led Tomura to giggle in excitement.

“Seems like the first one of our special guests has just entered the stream,” he said from behind you. Your head whipped around to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked him, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry, my doll. That ‘ding’ you just heard? Means that one of my invitation links just got opened and one of your colleagues just decided to finally join us. Why don’t you be nice and greet him?”

Tomura took your right hand he was still holding and began to wave it for the camera. Your eyes closed in frustration, knowing there was nothing you could do about it. When he was finally done waving for you, his hand let go of your wrist and immediately you covered your chest the best you could.

His now free hand gripped your hair and pulled your head back. His head burrowed itself in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin. His lips moved up towards your ear and he whispered “Now, let’s make sure that we put on a good show for our viewers.” before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting on it.

“Once I’m out of here, I’ll fucking kill you,” you answered him through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the unpleasant wet feeling of his mouth on you. You felt him smile against your skin, but he didn’t say anything to you in return. Instead, his hand left your hair and glided down your face and neck, making its way down to your breasts.

Your hand gripped his wrist, trying to keep him from touching you in this intimate place but you already knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop him. Moments later, Tomura’s hand had reached its goal and he began to fondle your breast roughly, pulling and twisting your nipple.

Your face scrunched up in pain and once more, you tried to pull his hand away from your body – to no avail. He continued tugging and twisting and shamefully you noticed that your nipple was getting hard. You knew that it was merely a bodily response to being stimulated but it was still hard to stomach that your body was reacting to it when you sure as hell weren’t enjoying his ministrations in the slightest.

And it seemed like you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Tomura had as well and you felt his grin against your neck. “Oh, seems like somebody’s enjoying it?” he gloated and tugged on your nipple harder.

“As if!” you exclaimed, hoping that nobody else would believe his incredulous words. Everything about his touches was uncomfortable: His grip was rough and his hand felt scratchy on your delicate skin.

Once more, you started to wriggle in his grasp, knowing that nothing would come out of it. With just the threat of his hands, he had you defeated before you had even started fighting. And although what was about to happen horrified and scared you, death scared you even more.

Now his left hand let go of yours and instantly, you started curling in on yourself, trying to prevent him from touching you further or the viewers on the stream from seeing you. He allowed you to remain in this position for a few moments while his gaze was fixed on the screen, reading the influx of comments.

“It seems like the majority of our viewers want us to move on to the next level already,” Tomura said and his left hand snaked under your armpit and up to your throat, tilting your body back against his.

“What do you say we give the people what they want?” Another tug on your nipple, and his hand left your breast before it continued downwards to your panties. Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to free yourself from his grip and save the last bit of dignity you still had left. Tomura wasn’t fazed by that however and his hand steadily continued until it had clawed into the material of your underwear and it decayed into nothingness along with your last shred of hope to somehow free yourself of this situation.

The little pile of dust that had settled on your crotch was blown away by Tomura and his mouth stretched into a wide grin, his dry lips close to cracking open. The hand that had disintegrated your panties now took your right thigh and pulled it to the side, effectively spreading your legs and displaying your pussy for everyone on the stream to see.

You had closed your eyes, not wanting to see yourself and your shameful display mirrored on the screen. Your hands, that had been on his arm up until now, trying to free yourself of his grasp, fell limply to your sides as all fight left your body. You knew that there was no way you would be able to get yourself out of this situation before Tomura had had the chance to defile you. Your only option at this point was to wait for your colleagues to arrive and save you – and hoping that you wouldn’t get killed before they would do so.

Once Tomura felt your body slacken, he began to laugh. “What? Not gonna fight me anymore?” he asked, his voice full of malicious joy. “And here I was beginning to enjoy your feisty attitude.”

Your change in behavior didn’t however stop him from continuing on with his little show and his right hand moved from your thigh to your pussy lips, spreading them open with the pointer and middle finger of his hand to give his audience a good show.

“That’s some grade A hero pussy,” he grinned into the camera as rubbed his finger around your hole a few times. “I wonder how many dicks it has taken so far…”

He turned his face from the camera to you as if he was waiting for an answer. You weren’t willing to give him that information though and kept your mouth shut, even as he lifted his other hand from your neck to your cheeks to squeeze them and get you to talk.

After a moment however, it seemed as if he had lost patience waiting for your answer, as he retracted his hand and put it back into place on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter. Once I’ve fucked you, I’ll have you ruined for other dicks for all eternity,” he cackled, his pointer finger pushing into your dry cunt immediately after he had finished his sentence.

You hissed out in pain. The skin on his finger was rough and you – surprise, surprise – were not turned on at all, so it hurt when he shoved it inside without any preparation at all.

When Tomura heard your hiss, he cackled again, moving his finger around inside you.

“If you’re already struggling to take my finger, you will break apart once I shove my cock inside you.”

Slowly, he began to move his finger, and with horror you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter the more he prodded your walls. Soon, he was able to fit a second finger inside your heat, angling them upwards and against where he had read the g-spot was.

When you took a sharp breath, he knew that he had been successful and he continued to push against the little rough patch of skin, knowing it would be so much more bitter for you if your body enjoyed the ordeal.

After a few moments of pumping his fingers inside you, he stopped and leaned forward a bit, reading through the comments in the chat.

He laughed. “Yeah, that little hero pussy is getting nice and wet,” he replied to one commenter. “It’s sucking my fingers right in.”

As if to demonstrate, he pulled his fingers out a bit and moved them around, until a squelching sound could be heard, and then pushed them all the way inside again, which elicited a muffled moan you hadn’t been able to stop in time.

“She’s definitely enjoying herself,” he answered another comment, looking at you with a sleazy grin. “Isn’t that right, hero slut?”

You grit your teeth and held back the curses and slurs you wanted to reply with, knowing that it would amuse your tormenter.

Once Tomura felt like he had replied to enough comments, he turned his attention back to you, thrusting his fingers inside you harshly one last time before he took them out, lifting them to the camera first to show the glistening juices before he put them inside his mouth and licked them with an exaggerated hum.

“I hope you’re ready for the final boss,” he whispered into your ear, although he made sure that it was loud enough for his audience to hear.

You shook your head, one last time trying to squirm out of his grasp. All that achieved however was that your ass rubbed against Tomura’s bulge and he let out a soft hiss.

“No need to be impatient, little hero slut,” he said with a grin as the hand that held your neck lifted you higher so the other hand could loosen and push down his pants.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to, as soon as Tomura’s erection bobbed free and sprang up between your legs, your eyes wandered to it, widening when you saw his size.

Tomura had to have seen your expression mirrored in the stream because he let out a manic laugh, his entire body (and dick) shaking with the emotion.

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt… much,” he cackled as he rubbed his dick along your slit, coating it in your juices. You body twitched when the tip of his dick rubbed over your clit and a shameful whimper escaped your throat, although you willed yourself immediately to shut up.

Not wanting to see your own violation, you closed your eyes as Tomura positioned himself at your entrance and began to slowly push inside.

You couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped your throat at the intrusion, nor the squirming as you tried to get away from it.

Tomura only tightened his grip on your neck you, pushing your body down on him as his dick breached further and further into your wet heat.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes once Tomura was fully seated in you and only through sheer willpower, you managed to hold them back, unwilling to give up this last bit of pride you had.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Tomura groaned, stilling for a second to get used to the feeling of your cunt. “Don’t tell me you were a virgin?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer the villain. No matter what you would say, he would only find it amusing and possibly use it to torment you further, either calling you a stuck-up hero bitch, thinking you’re too good for anyone, or a hero slut, willing to let anyone willing fuck you.

When Tomura realized he wasn’t getting an answer from you, he chuckled before he adjusted his four-finger grip on your neck, pulled almost all the way out of your cunt and slammed you down again until he was inside you to the base.

A pained cry flew from your lips but you had no time to even try and hold back your voice anymore, because Tomura immediately continued to jackhammer into you, moaning and panting into your ear as he showed the world how your cunt ate up his dick.

Your hands flew up to grab at his arm, futilely trying to steady yourself at least a bit, as he pushed and pushed and pushed into you. Squelching noises you were sure the microphone was picking up as well, came from your cunt as it greedily sucked Tomura’s dick back in every time he pulled back.

“Fuck, this is some grade A pussy,” Tomura groaned, his hips only slowing down a bit as his muscles began to hurt from the position. He caught his breath while he lazily thrusted into you, his moist breath uncomfortable on your ear.

Suddenly, Tomura moved and stood up from his chair, pushing you up as well with his hips. The hand that was around your throat slipped from under your arm and instead pushed down onto your back, laying you flat on his computer desk while his dick never left your tight cunt.

As soon as he had finished adjusting to the new position, he began railing you again, his hips slamming against your ass as his dick burrowed inside you further and further.

You let out a pained scream as his thrusts reached even deeper now, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to shut out the pain. At least in this position, the camera wasn’t able to get a shot of your face, you thought in relief, as it was too high to capture your body laid out on the desk.

Tomura must’ve noticed that fact as well because the next moment, the hand that pushed your back down moved up and grabbed your hair, pulling you up so your face was angled towards the camera. Your eyes flew open, a choked cry leaving you as you felt the burn on your scalp of your hair being pulled.

Right in front of you, you could see the red blinking light of the recoding camera and even though you wanted to close your eyes again, you found that the position made it impossible for you to do so.

So you had no choice but to stare into the camera as Tomura fucked you from behind while grunting and panting, your eyebrows furrowing as your eyes filled with tears.

After a minute of thrusting and you getting slammed against the desk again and again, Tomura leaned forward to read some more comments, his face erupting into a cackle when he read one of them.

“They’re saying I’m not taking care of you,” he told you, pulling at your hair some more so your head leant on his shoulder. “Saying you look like you’re not enjoying yourself.” He let go of your hair which caused you to fall forward onto the desk, almost slamming your head on the wood. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

With those words, his right hand began snaking around your waist, moving down so he could rub at your clit. His other hand pulled your back against his chest, giving the camera a better view and himself some more room to move his hand around your little nub.

At first, it was easy to ignore the touches on your clit, instead focusing on your uncomfortable position but then, he moved his fingers in a way that teased your clit just right and your mouth flew open as a loud moan left your lips.

“Ahh, so that’s what gets you going,” he laughed, immediately repeating the motion and trying to get you to make some more noises. You tried to hold back the sounds, tried to force yourself to close your mouth so no more moans and whimpers could escape you, but Tomura simply moved his hand on your chest upwards, pushing two of his fingers inside you mouth so it would stay open.

His thrusts had increased in speed again, his dick rubbing against your g-spot as his hands teased your clit and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your peak.

You moved your body and tried to angle your hips in a way that would made Tomura’s actions at least a bit more bearable but he noticed right away and made sure that you could not escape the orgasm that was building inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re getting even tighter,” he rasped, out of breath due to his insane pace. “Are you gonna cum around my dick?” He laughed at your pained expression, letting out a grunt as your walls began twitching around him.

“Yeah, just like that. Cream around that villain dick like the hero slut you are,” he groaned, feeling himself edging closer and closer to orgasm as well.

With one last effort, you tried to move away and stop his hand from pushing you over the edge but it was useless and with a cry, you came on his dick, the tears you had held back the entire time running down your face as your body twitched and convulsed, milking his cock like some desperate bitch in heat.

Tomura let out a choked groan, pumping into you a few more time as he announced that he was going to fill your slutty pussy with his cum, before you could feel his dick twitching inside you. You wanted to shout, wanted to beg him to at least not cum inside but his hand was still in your mouth and so you simply cried in silence as his warmth spread through you and began dripping out of your pussy.

Tomura let out a shuddering breath as he calmed down from his high, falling down in his seat and taking you with him. His dick began to get flaccid and with a plopping sound the pulled it out of your abused cunt, spreading your pussy lips for your audience to show them the copious amounts of cum that now dripped out of your slit and down your ass.

“Next time,” Tomura laughed as he pushed his cum back inside with two of his fingers. “Let’s try out that back entrance of yours.” He teasingly let his finger circle around your cum-covered asshole while you simply lay on his chest, motionless except for your harsh breaths and the sobs leaving your body.

He wiped his gooey fingers on your chest before he leaned forward to grab his computer mouse, waving to the camera one last time and telling his audience he hoped they had enjoyed the show before he cut the stream and the red light of the camera turned off.

____________________________________________

When the screen turned black, back at the agency Katsuki slammed a fist on the table. He didn’t want to watch one of his coworkers violated but they needed to make sure you weren’t killed while his colleague on the desk worked on tracing the IP.

Katsuki whipped his head up, shouting over to the other pro-hero. “Did you fucking trace the stream?!”

It was silent for a minute while his colleague typed furiously, trying his hardest to get a location.

“…no.”

Katsuki’s scream of rage could be heard through the entire agency.

#bnha #bnha smut #shigaraki x reader smut #tw: noncon #bnha noncon

475 notes · View notes

multifandombookstore · 3 years

Text

Thinking of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: kidnapping, blood, torture, mentions of BDSM??, noncon kissing, degradation, shooting, death Summary: the reader is taken by the unsub and she starts to hallucinate a certain dork Word Count: 4.7k words

All you can see is red and, no, it’s not from anger. Well, maybe a little bit of that too.

Blood trickles down your forehead into your eyes, your vision blurring with every drop that drips from your wound. With your hands tied up like this, you can’t wipe the blood from your eyes. With your head pounding, you try to remember how you got here.

You playfully punch Spencer’s shoulder with a laugh, watching him rub his arm where you hit him. “There’s no way that actually happened!” you shout once you calm your laughter. You watch Spencer smile and nod his head, still rubbing his arm.

“It did! You can ask Hotch,” he replies. He was telling you a story that happened before you joined the team as you two drove to the jet for a case.

“There’s no way Garcia actually said that to Morgan on speaker! How was she not fired?” you ask incredulously, starting to cackle once more. He laughs along with you, remembering the shock on Morgan’s face when she said it to him.

“I wish you would’ve been there to see it. Everyone’s face was priceless,” he says, his voice softer than before. You calm yourself again and look over at him, your heart warming at the sight of him. It was still pretty early in the morning, so the sun was shining right in his eyes as you drove, the sun visor doing nothing to protect his beautiful eyes.

You’ve been on the team for about a year and a half now and it’s honestly been a wild adventure after the next. You were only supposed to stay on the team for a year but, of course, Spencer convinced you to stay and it honestly didn’t take that much convincing. You loved this team as your second family now and you couldn’t imagine working anywhere else or with anyone else.

You park the car and get out, heading towards the jet where everyone else is walking to. Seeing Morgan, you quickly drag your luggage over to him and start teasing him. You watch him sigh and move his head to glare back at Spencer. You and Spencer start laughing again as you climb the steps, leaving Morgan to stare after the two of you.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you?” he asks you two, a playful lilt to his voice. You nod your head, trying to stop your laughter but Spencer kept cracking you up. “Reid, should I tell (Y/n) here about the peach incident?” Morgan asks him with a smirk. Instantly Spencer stops laughing and blushes a dark pink, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought,” he finishes as he sits across from the pair.

“What? Peach Incident? I wanna know!” you say with a new light to your eyes, looking between the two males. Blackmail on Spencer? Who would’ve thought that existed.

“No. Nothing happened. He’s bluffing,” Spencer stutters out, his face growing darker, causing Morgan to laugh. The others start to chuckle to themselves, finding the three of you amusing.

You all stop when Hotch comes to sit down with his fresh cup of coffee, his voice serious as he starts to discuss the case. You all go around tossing ideas out, trying to brainstorm different answers. The flight went by in a minute, it feels like. Then again, your attention was on Spencer for more than half of the ride. The others have never seen you two go more than fifteen minutes without talking to the other.

Once you touch down in a new state, you all pile out and into the cars waiting for you. You and Spencer take the back of one car while Rossi and Morgan take the front. “This unsub is kinda harsh,” you say softly, looking over the file again.

“What makes you say that?” Rossi asks curiously, wanting to hear more of your input.

“I mean, we’ve seen some things in our day but this? This just seems so...ruthless,” you say quietly, looking down at the pictures. Maybe you only thought it was worse than the others because all of these women kind of look like you.

“Yeah, the stabbing of the genitalia is an overkill. I thought maybe he knew these women but maybe he just hates women in general. Since they all look similar, my guess is that they’re a surrogate for someone,” Morgan replies. You nod your head, trying not to imagine what pain these three women felt before being killed.

Once you reach the station, you all walk in and set up in an extra room that they’ve allowed for you to use while here. From there, Hotch gives you all your orders. “JJ, Reid. I want you to go interview the two families that showed up today. Morgan, (Y/n). I want you two to go give the second family a visit. See why they haven’t been answering any of the police’s calls. Blake, we are going to go look at the kill sight where the last body was found.”

With everyone having their orders, you all disperse out of the station. You give Spencer a goodbye smile before following Morgan to one of the cars. “So, peach incident?” you ask as soon as you two are enclosed inside of the car. He laughs as he starts the black vehicle, looking around him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“How did I know you were going to ask me again as soon as I heard we were paired up,” he teases with a smile. You grunt and look over at him, placing your cheek into your hand as you watch him drive.

“C’mon, just tell me! I won’t tell Spencer that I know!” you plead. He scoffs at that, trying to hold back his laugh.

“Yes, you will. I’m not dumb,” he replies as he checks his GPS to make sure he’s driving the right way. You let out a long groan and dramatically throw your head back against the headrest. Guess you’ll have to blackmail or guilt-trip him if you ever want to get that information.

He parks the car on the road and checks the GPS once more to make sure that you two have the right address. “Well, this house is...interesting,” you comment as you study the exterior. I mean, it wasn’t terrible but you can tell by the yard and the house’s structure that they don’t take care of it very well.

“Does anyone even live here?” Morgan asks half playfully as he steps out of the car, making you do the same. You two walk up the driveway and to the front door, both of you staying quiet for a moment to see if you can hear anyone inside.

Hearing nothing, Morgan knocks on the door. “Hello? Anyone home?” he calls loudly. You both wait for a long moment, hearing nothing once more.

“Despite their yard, I saw a shed and greenhouse in the back. Maybe they’re back there?” you guess, turning away from the door to look at Morgan. He silently nods his head before turning around and going back the way you two came. You two walk around the house and into the backyard, the dead grass crunching underneath your feet.

“I can check the greenhouse while you check the shed,” he offers, leaving you to agree and split away from him. You walk over to the shed, noticing the lock is missing from the door. You take one last glance at Morgan before slowly opening the shed door.

“Hello?” you call, looking into the poorly lit area. There were lots of boxes along with tools lining the wall. You look around the area, looking for clues as to if they’ve killed anyone here or with any of the equipment. You stop at a workbench, seeing tools and papers littering the desk. You pull a glove from your pocket, starting to move the papers around to read them.

All of a sudden, you hear wood bending and creaking underneath someone’s weight. You turn around to look at Morgan, only to find a tall man with a shovel. Then, you don’t see anything except for black.

You grunt at the memory, feeling your head throb as you recall the events. The edge of the shovel must’ve been what caused the injury on your head. You don’t doubt that you have a concussion. With blood still dripping into your eyes, you try to figure out where you are. From the looks of it, you’re in an abandoned factory of sorts.

You tug on your arms again and feel something wrapped around your wrists, holding your arms out behind you. This is also keeping you sat up, the strain of whatever is binding you too great for you to slouch forward. You tilt your head back, hoping to get the blood out of your eyes.

You don’t know how long you’ve been out for nor do you know how long it is until someone shows up. You bring your head back down and watch as the same man as before walks over to you with a handheld toolkit. He gets down on one knee and then opens up the kit.

“Are you Mr. Jenkins?” you ask softly, finding your throat a bit dry. He ignores you, pulling out a cloth and dousing it in saline solution. He then cleans your wound, not bothering to be gentle about it. You don’t make a peep though, remaining quiet as to not irritate or upset him and make him stop. Once done with that, he dries the area before wrapping gauze around your head. There’s still caked blood on your face and with your injury, you’re not sure cleaning it up and wrapping it was the best way to go but you suppose this is better than nothing. Besides, you can’t even see how bad your injury is. Maybe it feels worse than it actually is.

When he deems his job done, he packs everything back into his kit before standing up. “Wait!” you call weakly, watching him not even hesitate to leave you alone once more. You sigh and look around, finding it much easier to see now. After some time has passed, you feel a streak of blood start to trail down your face. You were right, the wound is bigger than he’s letting on.

You tilt your head back to keep the blood from getting in your eyes again, closing your eyes since all you’re looking at is a ceiling. You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Already knowing the answer, you bring your head up for a moment to check to see if you still have your gun. Confirming that you indeed don’t have it, you tilt your head back again. You then wondered if he knows you’re not just a random person that wandered into his shed. Your badge is in your coat though, so you can’t check to see if it’s gone or not. You’re guessing he checked all of your pockets before leaving you alone though.

Guess you just need to remain calm and wait to see what happens.

Morgan walks into the greenhouse, finding dead and withering plants scattered around. Despite no one being inside, he starts to look around for evidence or hints as to what these people really do.

He stops his snooping when he hears a truck on gravel, his boots stepping on dead plants and dried leaves as he walks towards the exit. What he finds though isn’t at all what he’s expecting.

There you are, limp in someone’s arms and being tossed into the bed of a truck. “Hey! Stop!” he shouts, pulling out his gun as he starts running. The guy, knowing he’s been caught, starts to run to the driver’s door. Morgan aims his gun at the driver and fires, the first shot just missing by a couple of inches. With the man in the truck and starting to drive off in his truck, Morgan shoots at the tires. He curses loudly when he misses or the bullets don’t do anything to stop the driver, simply slowing him down a little. Morgan memorizes as much of the plate as he can before the truck disappears around the corner.

Morgan curses loudly again and takes out his phone, calling Hotch. With everyone alerted, they all come to the Jenkin’s home. Caution tape is put up at the entrance of the property to keep nosy neighbors at bay, forensics showing up and starting to take pictures of the crime scene.

Everyone turns when JJ and Reid pull up in another car, knowing that this isn’t going to be good. Reid is in front of them in practically a second, his eyes wide and fearful. “What happened? Where is she?” he spits out faster than anyone can decipher. Morgan, already knowing what he was going to say, places his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, calm down. Take a breath,” he says calmly, hoping Reid won’t lash out. Lash out is exactly what Reid did though.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to be calm when (Y/n) was taken by someone? Look at all the blood! She’s probably bleeding out! What were you doing? Why weren’t you here to protect her?” Why wasn’t I here to protect her?

“Reid,” Hotch warns, stepping up beside Morgan. Morgan sighs and looks over at the blood, a frown hanging heavy on his face. “Morgan, tell us what happened now that everyone is here,” Hotch commands.

Morgan sighs again, refusing to look at them. “(Y/n) and I knocked on the door and there was no answer. She then pointed out that there was a shed and greenhouse in the backyard, and that they might be in there. So, she took the shed while I took the greenhouse. I was looking around inside when I heard a truck. I come out of the greenhouse to see...to see our unsub carrying her to the back of the truck. I called out to him as I drew my gun, starting to fire as he escaped.”

Everyone stays quiet for a moment after he finishes, no one really knowing what to say. Reid, of course, is the first one to speak. “You should’ve been with her. You shouldn’t have separated. You—”

“Reid,” JJ interrupts, placing her hand onto his back. “You can’t blame him. All of us probably would’ve done the same to cover more ground quicker,” she says softly, trying to soothe him. His hands clench into fists, his eyes stinging with the want of tears. He can’t cry though, not here.

“I’m sorry. Let’s just work hard to bring her back,” he mumbles, staring at the red ground.

It’s been a couple of days, you know that much. Mr. Jenkins hasn’t given you any food and has only given you enough water to not die from dehydration. You’ve barely slept a wink, the position you’re in keeping you upright. Besides, you’re too worried and scared to actually close your eyes for long.

You’re assuming that Mr. Jenkins doesn’t own this property or else the gang would’ve found you by now. You wonder how Spencer is handling this.

“Well, I’m quite upset, I’ll tell you that much.”

You turn your head to the side, finding Spencer leaning against an old, rundown machine. A smile comes to your face just from the sight of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” you reply hoarsely, your throat dry as a bone and begging for water. He smiles back and walks over to you, squatting down in front of your slouched figure.

“That’s quite the bump on your head,” he says as he runs his fingers over your wound. You can’t feel his touch though.

“How did you find me?” you ask, wondering why he isn’t freeing you.

“You know, I kind of like you tied up like this,” he teases, a smirk spreading across his face. You feel your face heat up at his words, your eyes now avoiding his face.

“Spencer, I don’t think now is the time for us to be talking about this,” you stutter out. He chuckles at your embarrassment, his hand moving to cup your cheek but you still can’t feel his touch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know? I never get tired of looking at you,” he whispers, leaning closer to your face. Your embarrassment only grows at his compliment, your head shaking.

“I don’t understand—”

“Do you remember that one time we played chess? The time before we worked that one stone case? You were right, I did let you win. I just wanted to see you smile when you realized you won,” he whispers. You let out a weak laugh, remembering the memory like it was yesterday.

“I knew it. I’m a profiler, after all. I can tell when you’re lying,” you respond softly, all this talking starting to drain your energy. He chuckles and leans forward, his breath fanning across your face. Just like you figured, it smells like coffee. He’s addicted to the stuff.

“No you can’t. You just think you can,” he replies playfully. He then starts to lean closer, his lips ghosting over yours. You close your eyes, waiting to feel his lips against yours. You’ve been wanting to kiss him for so long. You always imagined he would taste like coffee.

Well, you had your eyes closed until a creaking door is pulled open. You open your eyes to find Spencer gone and in his place is your captor. “What? Wanna kiss?” he snaps, squatting down in front of you. You look away from him, the smell of his breath making you want to puke. He reaches up and grabs the back of your head by your hair, forcing you to bring your head up to look at him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he snaps.

He then smashes your lips together, his cracked and dry lips completely covering your own. You don’t return the kiss, simply sitting there as still as a statue. He doesn’t bother kissing you long, knowing you won’t return it. “Dumb whore,” he mumbles as he stands up again, reaching for a container that he had set down when he came in. He pulls out a half filled water bottle and a piece of moldy bread.

He sets the water bottle down without the cap before setting the bread down onto the dirty floor. “Bone apple teeth,” he jokes as he leaves. You feel your eyes sting but you force yourself not to cry. You bend over with your arms still behind your back and take the top of the water bottle in between your teeth. You then slowly sit up and tilt your head back, using your mouth alone to drink the water. You then look down at the bread once you finish the water, deciding that it’s not worth the trouble. You haven’t gone that long without food, after all.

After the first visit, Spencer always comes back to visit you more. He never gives you that kiss though. “I have to leave you wanting more or you’ll leave me,” he explains after you confront him one day. Your brows furrow in confusion, your eyes barely even open at this point.

“That’s not true. I would never leave you,” you reassure. He turns to look at you from his seat beside you, a sad smile coming to his face.

“Just trust me. If I do...something will happen to you,” he whispers, turning away to look around the dank factory. You let out a sigh and nod your head a bit, understanding what he’s saying.

“Okay. Just because I’m accepting that though doesn’t mean I like it,” you reply lightly. He hums and looks at you again, his face going from sad to heartbroken.

“I miss you, you know.” This makes you smile and your heart flutter in your chest.

“I miss you too. Why else do you think I’ve made you up?” you reply. It took a couple times of him showing up for you to realize that you’re hallucinating him. You didn’t really mind though. He helped you stay sane.

“Because you need someone handsome to look at?” he asks jokingly. You hum and nod your head, coughing weakly before you can reply to him.

“There’s that too,” you admit. He laughs and leans over to rest his head on top of yours. In return, you rest your head on his shoulder. Honestly, he’s probably the only reason that you haven’t gone insane yet.

“I’m getting close. I’ll find you soon,” he promises. You let out another hum, hoping he’s telling the truth and not lying to make you feel better.

He’s gone in a blink of an eye when the door opens and your captor walks in. “Alright, your time has come,” he says as he starts to undo your binds. Your shoulders and arms scream in pain but you keep your lips tightly sealed to keep you from actually screaming.

“Do you know who I am?” you croak out. You hear him scoff as he makes you stand up, your vision instantly swimming and causing you to get light headed. You lean against him to prevent yourself from falling down, fear starting to crawl it’s way through your mind.

“You’re in the FBI, right? I found your badge in your pocket. I took it upon myself to see this as a challenge,” he replies, shoving you forward and causing you to fall face first. You barely have the strength to push yourself up but it didn’t matter since he’s grabbing you by your hair and arm to drag you back up. “I think I’m doing a standup job too. They have no idea where we are,” he informs you proudly.

You can’t tell where he’s taking you, your vision swimming too much to tell, but the next thing you know, you’re being laid out on a hard, cold surface. “I figured that you’re special, so I’m going to give you some special treatment.” You grunt before letting out a dry cough.

“Yay me,” you reply sarcastically. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s cutting off your shirt and dress pants. It didn’t take him long to start cutting you. You bite your tongue to stop from screaming but the pain eventually gets to be too much. You try to fight him off but god, you can hardly keep your limbs up or moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if he also drugged the little water he gave you.

You’re not sure how long you’re there for. A couple minutes, an hour, a day, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter. You’re losing blood fast and you know what comes at the end right before he kills you. “Ready for the finale?” he asks darkly, trailing his knife from your foot up your leg towards your crotch.

You refuse to beg though. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Aww, you’re no fun. By this point, all the other girls were whimpering, snotty messes begging me to spare them. I even got offered for them to be my sex slave and what have you. I wish you’d offer me something like that,” he whines playfully, a dark smile on his face. With the tip of his knife a little above your pelvic bone, he connects his lips to yours again. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, starting to drag that knife down and lighting a fire in the blades place. You bite his tongue just as multiple doors bang open.

“FBI! Move away from the woman!” someone calls. He pulls his face away from yours, blood pouring from his mouth where you bit into his tongue.

“You little bitc—” he starts to yell as he pulls his arm back to stab your genitals, just like he did for his other victims. He doesn’t get the chance to stab you though, a gunshot ringing throughout the factory and piercing right through his brain. His blood sprays on you before he falls dead to the floor, relieved tears starting to leak from your eyes.

Spencer was by your side in a second, holstering his fired weapon. “You’re okay. God, we were almost too late,” he mumbles, tears coming from his own eyes. He helps you sit up before draping his coat around your shoulders and pulling you close. Paramedics are quick to come over to you two, trying to separate you two to put you onto a stretcher.

“No, stop! I’ll carry her,” he says quickly, keeping you wrapped up tight in his arms. He then turns you to pick you up bridal style, whispering calming words to you as he carries you out of that wretched place. He kisses you on your temple before handing you over to the ambulance, refusing to leave your side as he rides with you to the hospital. You smile lovingly at him as he squeezes your hand, your body not having the energy to return the act.

You don’t remember passing out but you did, apparently, since the next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital bed with a certain nerd asleep by your side. You let out a sigh as you shakily bring your hand up to run it through his messy hair. He wakes up right away and looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh thank god,” he sputters as he stands up to wrap you in a hug. You grunt when you feel the pain flare up in your arms, this making him pull away instantly.

You find tears in his eyes, your own eyes starting to tear up as well. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he cries, his voice sounding crushed. You sniffle and gently grab his hand, being careful of your wounds.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you reply shakily. He smiles at you and uses his free hand to wipe away your tears that started to fall.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, almost too quiet for you to hear. You laugh weakly at this, remembering how you begged imaginary him to kiss you back in the factory.

“Please.” You barely get to finish before his lips are meeting yours. Not to your surprise, he tastes exactly like you thought he would. Coffee. He kisses you passionately, every single emotion you both feel being expressed through that kiss. Fear, guilt, desperation, love, admiration, and so much more.

You two pull away when someone clears their throat. “Well, at least I know that you’re okay now,” Rossi teases, the rest of the gang looking in from behind him. You and the others laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes while they all come in.

“I’m more than okay. Thanks for saving me, guys.”

“Don’t thank us,” Hotch says.

“It’s all because of boy wonder here that we were able to find you,” JJ supplies. You look to Spencer to find him blushing.

“He went on an absolute rampage,” Blake starts, getting a ‘no, I didn’t’ in response from Spencer, “He refused to sleep until he found you. I don’t think anyone has ever been scared of Reid until that moment.” You’re starting to feel warm now. He did all that for you?

“Stop exaggerating,” Spencer snaps, giving your hand a squeeze. This makes everyone laugh. Well, except for a certain member of your crew.

Morgan walks over to your bed, his whole body tense and he almost seems ready to cry. “(Y/n), I’m sorry that I got yo—”

“Stop. Don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just learn from it and move on, yeah?” you say kindly, a warm smile on your face. He lets out a hefty sigh and nods his head, a small smile coming to his face.

“Now, give me a hug. In fact, everyone give me a hug!” you command, making everyone chuckle as they follow your orders.

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MASTERLIST

More with Spencer Reid

Should I make a Tag List?

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479 notes · View notes

watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dean’s Jeans 2

What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!

Title: Dean’s Jeans 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5561

Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.

Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end

It was a big day for driveways and garages.

You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.

“Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.

“Should be. Why, what’s up?”

“I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”

Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.

“Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.

Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.

You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.

“Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”

Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”

“No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.

“A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.

“Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”

“’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.

“Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.

“Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.

“You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch. They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”

You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.

“Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.

“Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.

“Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”

“Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”

You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.

Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.

DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.

“Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”

You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”

“That’s why he needs a hug?”

“Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.

“It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.

A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.

Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”

Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”

His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.

DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”

“Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.

She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”

After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.

“I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”

You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”

He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”

You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.

It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.

“My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.

“He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”

Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”

“Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”

He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.

They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.

“Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.

He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”

“You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.

As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.

“How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”

“You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.

“I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”

“Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”

“Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.

You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”

Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”

Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”

Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”

“Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”

“As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”

“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.

“Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”

“You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”

It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.

He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”

Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”

The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.

He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.

“Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”

“You’d think I drugged them.”

He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.

You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide. You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.

It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.

The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.

Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.

“You’re thinking about your knees right now?”

“That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.

You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.

But here he was still.

Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.

No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”

“All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”

Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.

“Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”

“Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.

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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Mirrorball // I

A/N: there will be a part two!! dont worry!!

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Reader hides her insecurity under a guise of unwavering happiness, but Loki ends up finding out the truth. Meanwhile, Loki struggles with feeling worthy of love.

Warnings: suicidal ideation, insecurity, misunderstandings, angst

Loki wasn’t sure why you lived with the Avengers. Sure, you were one hell of a good cook, and you bartended at Tony’s numerous parties, but surely you could do that while having a place of your own. Normally, Loki wouldn’t have given a second thought to where somebody chose to reside--even if he couldn’t understand people’s willingness to be anywhere near Stark--but you were driving him insane.

When Loki had first arrived at the tower, it had been a cruel and unusual punishment. House arrest at the very place that he suffered a humiliating defeat, with the very heroes that had defeated him. Of course, not many people were very welcoming. He was permitted to roam about the tower as long as he stayed on good behavior, but that didn’t mean all residents were alright with it.

Stark was the easiest to deal with; his jokes and quips about Loki’s unfortunate ventures to rule, well, anything stung, but the malice behind them faded with every passing day. After all, it had been a long time since New York. Banner and Wanda were another story. They treated him politely enough, but the fear behind their eyes whenever he passed by made something rotten stir in his gut. No matter how much he attempted to redeem himself, people still saw him as evil. A villain.

It seemed as if Steve and Thor were the only ones glad to have him there. The Captain’s open arms had come as a surprise, but Loki was intuitive, and very quickly realized that Steve saw him in the same light as he did the Winter Soldier, Bucky. And in a way, Loki could see the similarities. They had both done awful things--albeit under far different circumstances--and were now working on gaining the trust of the ones kind enough to give them a second chance.

So Loki found himself seeking out Bucky’s company far more often than any of his other acquaintances. It was a strange sort of companionship, but it worked; Bucky usually opted to listen instead of speak, giving Loki the opportunity to ramble on about whatever grievances he held that week. There were usually a lot, and Bucky was the only one who didn’t offer him useless advice. He simply nodded along, fixing Loki with that thousand yard stare until he had finished.

And then, of course, there was you. All smiles and playful energy, with a raunchy sense of humor and a sharp tongue. You were much smaller than him, in terms of height and stature, but he often felt dwarfed when you were in the room. You just took up so much space with that reckless attitude and need for everyone in the room to be laughing. In an odd sort of way, you reminded him of a clown. Not because you were goofy, or funny looking, no. You just...made people smile, held their attention and made it your dying goal to be there for entertainment.

The first time Loki had seen you, he was quick to notice your easy beauty. It was rare that he found a Midgardian woman to be attractive, but he couldn’t deny that something about you just appealed to him. You weren’t a supermodel, nor were you drop-dead gorgeous in terms of Midgardian standards, but you had a very real-life grace. You didn’t look like those dolled up actresses he often saw on the television, you looked more natural, something that instantly caught Loki’s eye.

He had been reading quietly in the common room of the Stark Tower, having been forced out of his room by Thor to “at least be present, brother.” The other Avengers droned on about petty events while he attempted to tune them out. And then you stormed in, bringing a sense of excitement to the room with your very aura.

You greeted each person individually, making sure no hero was left out, until your eyes settled on him. Loki felt a heat rise in his cheeks under your intense gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. He brushed off the feeling as it simply had been a while since he had spoken to an attractive woman, not wanting to admit to himself the effect your presence had on him.

“New guy, Loki, psycho murderer,” you rattled off, still staring him down. Loki felt as if you were a cat, and he was the poor mouse that you had selected as your new plaything. “Which do you prefer?”

That caught him off guard. While he was still somewhat unfamiliar with Midgard’s social customs, he was at least sure that this was not a normal way to greet a stranger. That, and the disrespect warred with what he was used to: women on Asgard bowing to him, treating him with the dignity that a prince deserved. Despite the surprise, Loki’s aloof outer demeanor was not shaken, and he let the strangeness of it all roll off his back as he replied, “How about ‘God of Mischief?’ Or, if that is a bit too wordy, I would be open to ‘King Loki.’”

Your eyes lit up, and Loki found himself having to fight back a smile. His unconscious reaction left him feeling confused and slightly frustrated. Why was this mortal girl sending his emotions in a whirl? Loki scrambled for some sort of reasoning that didn’t have him looking pathetic, and settled on the idea that it had been a while since he had bed a woman, and you were particularly attractive. It only made sense that his body would react in ways that he had not expected.

Lost in his head, Loki barely noticed you were speaking again. “I like this one!” You said, clearly excited that he had matched your banter with ease. “New best friend acquired.”

Once again, you had left Loki reeling. Best friend? He wasn’t sure if he had ever had one of those before, and certainly not with someone he had just met. In fact, he wasn’t entirely positive that he even wanted one. Especially in the form of some over-enthusiastic mortal. Before he could protest, you plopped yourself down next to him on the couch. It wasn’t a very big piece of furniture, so when you settled into your seat, you were only a couple inches away from touching Loki.

He could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and once again, his heart fluttered. The urge to lean into you overwhelmed him, and Loki furrowed his eyebrows. God, had it really been that long since he had been with someone? The frustration at his stupid body for its stupid needs grew, and Loki made up his mind then and there. He would court you, then fuck you, and get over this silly little infatuation. With your earlier outburst at wanting to befriend him, Loki figured that it would be a breeze. With his silvertongue and charming good looks, he would have you squirming under him in no time. Easy.

But, of course, nothing was ever easy for Loki. You had managed to prove him quite wrong over the next few weeks. Your obliviousness to flirting was quite impressive, Loki found, despite even his most direct attempts. Every advance he made was thwarted by complete, and utter ignorance, coupled with the fact that you had probably not taken a single thing seriously in your entire life.

Loki would compliment you, and you’d grin wolfishly and twist it to make his words sound insulting, then cackling madly. And then was the time he “joked,” about getting you into his bed, to which you burst into a fit of giggles and said, “No way! I don’t want to be the other woman to Bucky!”

Loki had recoiled in bewilderment, and decided that enough was enough. Obviously you weren’t worth the effort, considering you never actually listened to anything he said. He’d just have to find someone who was capable of holding a conversation without turning something into a joke.

But...he couldn’t deny that he was constantly having to fight back a laugh at your remarks, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that you were annoying, not funny. And even when he had abandoned his plot to seduce you, Loki found himself gravitating towards you. Truth be told, he knew how to be direct, to really get what he wanted, but every time he worked up the courage to just lean in and kiss you...something stopped him. Deep down, he knew that if you actually rejected him, then the game would be over, and something about that just seemed devastating to Loki. So he continued with cat and mouse, letting you deflect his advances time after time, because at least you weren’t actually saying no.

He’d wander in the kitchen while you were cooking, sit down to watch your favorite shows and movies, and had even taken to sitting on the roof with you late at night when neither of you could sleep. Loki couldn’t avoid it anymore. It wasn't a simple attraction that he felt, it was adoration. You, a mortal of all creatures, had captured his interest. Maybe it was your wit. Maybe it was your unshakable happiness, the ability to keep everyone’s spirits up in any situation. Maybe it was the crushing need to protect you, to protect that pure soul from the viciousness of the universe. Whatever it was, you had actually ended up as Loki’s best friend. And somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love.

You sat in the living room alone, knees curled up to your chest on the couch. The four walls of your room had felt confining, like a prison cell that kept getting smaller. Your usual place of refuge would be the roof. But you didn’t dare venture up there like this. With your luck, Loki would find you there, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep up your carefree persona.

Loki had never seen you upset before, never seen you weak. No one had, if you were honest. You fought hard to keep a smile plastered on your cheeks to keep up the appearance of a girl who never faltered with her high spirits. In a way, it wasn’t entirely fake. Joking around and being joyous was your real personality, but it was also a defense mechanism. If you never took anything seriously, nothing would ever hurt. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. The anxiety that wrecked your brain stayed constant, though, making your life a constant war with your own mind.

Your friendship with Loki was a fragile one, or at least it felt that way. You often felt as if you were walking on eggshells; every word that came out of your mouth risked driving him away. He had seemed to enjoy your wild and snarky personality when you first met him, so you didn’t dare try to be anything else. You were afraid that he would lose all interest when he discovered that you were just as fragile as all mortals were.

It was risky having your breakdown out in one of the main rooms, but the risk was better than dealing with the claustrophobia of your lonely bedroom. Besides, it wasn’t like you were going to sleep anyway. Better to just wait for daylight where you could at least feel some modicum of safety.

In your misery, you had forgotten that Loki was not an easy being to hide from. You were pretty sure that it was damn near impossible, actually. He seemed to...sense...your emotions, when you were in distress. And though you never showed it, kept that unwavering smile plastered across your face, he always appeared when you needed a friend to sit with. Tonight was no different.

Like a shadow, Loki emerged from the hallway in front of you, piercing eyes quickly landing on your curled up form in the darkness. He raised an eyebrow at you when you refused to even acknowledge him. “Dear, would you like to go up to the roof? Away from prying ears?” He offered.

You shook your head, and shrunk further into yourself when he crossed the room to sit next to you. Loki looked a little uneasy, as it was rare that you were silent. Usually, he had to fight to get a word in when you were on a tangent. Not that he minded too much. Though he liked to talk, he held a certain fondness for listening to you.

Loki tried again to engage you. “Why not? I know it’s a bit chilly tonight, but you’ve never minded that before."

It was clear that the god wasn’t going away until you gave him some kind of response, so you gritted your teeth and lied. “Sorry, bud. I just feel sick, that’s all.” You forced a laugh, but it sounded strained. “I’d rather stay close to the bathroom. I’m not sure Tony would be too excited if I puked on his roof.”

Blue eyes stared into yours, and you could literally feel Loki not believing you. Of course the God of Mischief would be able to spot a lie from a mile away. Still, he didn’t push the subject, something that you were grateful for. “Alright,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “Would you like me to sit with you?”

Fuck, you didn’t want to have to reject his company a second time, but you really needed to be alone right now. Loki seeing you have a meltdown would be the last straw, and you’d just end up throwing yourself off of the Stark Tower. No, it was better this way. “That’s okay, you get some rest. I’m not gonna keep you up for something so small.” You still hadn’t looked up, afraid that Loki would see the glimmer of tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “Besides, you need your beauty sleep,” you tried to tease, but your voice came out flat and dull.

Loki thought for a second, then sighed. “As your king, I override your decision. I will be staying here until you’re feeling well enough to sleep.” He waited expectantly, obviously ready for you to make some bratty quip about not being one of his subjects, but it never came. You just didn’t have it in you.

Now that Loki had fully sunk down on the couch, his body was only inches from yours. You wanted so badly to lean into the heat of his side, to bury your face in the crook of his neck and let him cuddle your fears away. Instead of following your instincts, you squashed the daydream like a pesky bug. Nothing about Loki indicated that he was the cuddling type. Hell, he’d never so much as hugged you. He probably wasn’t a big fan of physical touch.

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep it together until you’re on your own. That’s when you stiffened. Loki had stretched a long arm around you, and was looking at you intently to gauge your reaction.

“Is this okay? Humans are very social creatures, touch can help provide some comfort if you’re feeling ill.”

Loki’s scientific approach to the entire situation almost made you break out into laughter. Almost. Regardless, it was too hard to resist when you had such an open invitation. You scooted closer to the god and leaned against him, letting Loki hold you tight.

Before you could even try to stop yourself, you had burst into sobs. Something about being held had just broken the dam, and you were weeping uncontrollably into Loki’s shirt, sputtering out apologies all the while.

Loki shushed you and held you tighter, and you could’ve sworn that you felt an aura of possessiveness in his embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m here to help.”

You didn’t know how long you cried for, but when you were finally able to rein in the tears, you were horrified. Loki’s shirt was soaked with snot and tears, and your face was most definitely swollen and blotchy with red spots. And, worst of all, you had just proven to him that you were weak, and not worth his time. This was a disaster.

Loki, hearing your sniffling come to a stop, pulled away to look at you, and bit his lip nervously before beginning to speak. “There’s something I must confess to you. Seeing you now, trusting me with your vulnerability-”

You cut him off by jumping up from your seat, knocking his arms away from you. Like hell you were going to listen to the rest of his rejection. You already knew what he was going to say. That you were weak, that he no longer wanted anything to do with you. “Listen, Loki,” you snarled, unable to mask the pain in your voice. “You don’t have to say it, I get it. I’m gonna go to bed, you don’t have to hang out with me anymore,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you died from humiliation.

Loki watched in bewilderment, his words of affection dying on his lips and you turned tail and ran out of the room. Rejected? By a mortal? He had never known such embarrassment. And you hadn’t even had the good graces to let him finish. His heart began to darken with rage and shame. Of course you ran away, of course you didn’t want to be with someone like him. No one did, he should be used to this kind of treatment by now. How foolish of him to think that you would be any different.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #fanfic #mcu #marvel #angst #writing

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

Text

🔥The Secret Compartment🔥

~~~

“Oh come on, Erwin! I know you’re just as curious as I am!” Hanji whined, leaning with her palms flat against the Commander’s desk, her eyes shining behind her glasses.

“Hanji, it would be wrong,” Erwin said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Who cares about moral principles? Levi is out for a few hours, this would be the perfect time to do it! You know there won’t be another chance like this again soon, we need to take advantage of it and see exactly what he is hiding from us!”

Erwin met Hanji’s excited gaze, knowing she would not drop this until she got what she wanted. He sighed again, trying to fight off the headache that was forming against his skull. About a month ago, both Erwin and Hanji had noticed a locked drawer attached to Levi’s desk. The pair always knew that their friend was a private person, but it was the only drawer that had a lock on it. There was even one time when Hanji had burst into his office without knocking, only to see him quickly and violently slam the drawer shut with a glare in her direction. They had questioned him on it, only to be met with annoyed scowls and complaints about everyone sticking their noses into his business.

Erwin would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, but his anxiety over what would happen if they were caught overwhelmed his desire to see the contents of that drawer. Hanji, on the other hand, had been tailing Levi like a dog with a bone, nearly foaming at the mouth as she continuously attempted to get a sneak peek.

“Come on, Erwin. I can almost guarantee you that it’ll be worth it. Levi could be hiding anything in that drawer. It could be embarrassing things he did as a child, or a secret about his life, or a guilty pleasure he’s hiding. There might even be a diary or journal of some sort in there!” Hanji said.

“I don’t know if I even really want to read Levi’s diary, Hanji. That thing could have anything written inside,” Erwin said.

Hanji threw him a look and Erwin crossed his arms with a frown. Damn, this woman was persistent.

“We might even be able to use whatever is inside as blackmail if he ever tries to threaten us again. Like when he threatened to tell everyone about the time you got drunk and started going on about creating a new order stating all of the women in the Corps have to sleep with you,” Hanji said, a wide grin spreading across her face at the sight of Erwin’s paled features.

“Fine,” Erwin said. “But if we get caught, I’ll feed you to your titans. After Levi is done breaking off both of his feet in our asses.”

Hanji squealed in excitement and grabbed the Commander’s hand, dragging him with her to Levi’s office. Erwin fought against the nervousness that was clawing in his stomach as he pulled out the ring of keys he had for every office in the Corps, found the one meant for Levi’s door, and put it in the lock. Hanji pushed past him and into Levi’s office as soon as the door was unlocked, looking around with even more excitement than when she was working on her experiments.

Wasting no time, Hanji moved over to Levi’s desk and bent down, pulling a hairpin from her done up bun. The crazy scientist picked at the lock, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on moving the pin within the gears until a loud click sounded throughout the room. Erwin shuffled from foot to foot at the sound, the Commander glancing at the door from where he stood awkwardly in the center of the immaculate office.

“You better make sure that everything is put back exactly where you found it or he’ll know,” Erwin said with another glance at the door. He knew Levi was in town for the afternoon but he was still expecting the short raven-haired man to pop up out of nowhere, as if he knew his private belongings were being messed with.

“Erwin…”

The sound of Hanji’s voice, filled with awe and surprise, made Erwin turn to look at her. She was holding what looked like a large, leatherbound notebook, her mouth agape and her eyes wide and sparkling. Despite the anxiety that was still gnawing at his gut, Erwin’s curiosity won and the Commander slowly moved around the desk to crouch beside Hanji.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” Hanji said with a smirk as she tilted the notebook for Erwin to see. Erwin felt his jaw drop. It was a sketchbook, a beautiful sketchbook that nearly gleamed from the tender care Levi had obviously subjected it to. The leather was smooth and cool against Erwin’s calloused hands and the pages were soft to the touch.

“I didn’t even know Levi liked art, let alone that he could draw, especially like this,” Hanji said, her eyes shining as she looked down at the sketches on each page. Some of the pages just had small little doodles while others had full scale scenes and portraits, all of which were immaculately detailed. One page held drawings of kittens playing around, while another was a giant drawing of all of the superior officers standing at attention in a large field.

Neither of them could believe it. All of the drawings were stunning, each mark carefully constructed and purposeful. They probably wouldn’t have believed they were Levi’s drawings if it weren’t for his signature at the bottom of each page.

“Holy shit,” Erwin breathed when he came across an image of Levi’s black stallion, Azriel, the sketch so realistic that he could almost feel the animal’s fur through the page.

“Yeah,” Hanji murmured in response as she continued to flip through the book. Erwin tore his eyes from the drawings for a moment to peer into the unlocked drawer, reaching in to study the wide variety of pencils, paints, charcoals, and colored pencils that lay neatly at the bottom.

He had only been looking at the art supplies for a moment, when Hanji’s breath caught. The Commander automatically looked up at the door, fear lurching in his gut at the thought that Levi had come back, only to find that the door was still shut firmly. Looking down at Hanji, he saw she was grinning like a cat, her gaze flashing with mischievous intent as she looked at one of the pages. Erwin refocused his attention on the sketchbook and grunted in surprise when he saw the drawing in Hanji’s hand.

It was a drawing of (Y/N) (L/N), one of their fellow superior officers. (Y/N) was a Captain in her own right, leading her own squad of efficient warriors that rivalled even the famed Levi Squad. She was a well loved soldier, her compassionate personality combined with her ability to make almost anyone laugh making her a very popular member of the scouts. Despite her vibrant personality, she was also known to be a very talented soldier with a cool headed approach to conflict and a strength that often surprised most people who met her. She refused to take bullshit from anyone, and wasn’t afraid to release the filter on her barbed tongue when necessary, easily putting people in their place.

The drawing was downright gorgeous, by far the most beautiful out of all of the drawings in the book. He had used color when drawing her, one of the very few sketches in which he did, the image coming to life with the splashes of color and detailed features. The image looked as if she could turn her head and wave at them right then, the drawing so realistic it was breathtaking. In the drawing, (Y/N) was laughing, her eyes closed and her head tilted back slightly, her (h/c) hair cascading behind her. Her lips were parted in a wide grin as she laughed, one of her hands just barely touching her chin, as if she had been trying to cover her mouth only to give up when the giggles became too intense.

Hanji and Erwin looked at each other, their eyes wide with shock. Levi had done many portraits throughout the entire sketchbook, even having drawn some of Erwin and Hanji, but this sketch of (Y/N) was by far the most detailed, the most realistic. It was clear that Levi had spent hours upon hours drawing her, each stroke of his pencil done with immense love and care.

The two officers were quiet as Hanji flipped the page, their shock mounting somehow higher as they found more drawings of (Y/N). Hanji ran her finger through the pages once, flipping through the rest of the used pages to find that all of them were of (Y/N). Going back to the page they were on, Erwin and Hanji admired each illustration. Some of the drawings had color just like the first one they found of (Y/N), while others were just black and white, albeit no less detailed.

There were sketches of (Y/N) standing in a sparring stance, riding her horse, shouting down a noble, wielding a sword, reading a book. All of the drawings in the rest of the sketchbook were of her doing different things, each drawing lovingly crafted to make them look as realistic as possible.

Erwin’s eyebrows shot up into his hair and Hanji let out a surprised squawk of laughter when they flipped to one drawing of (Y/N) in a very suggestive position, her (e/c) eyes half lidded and filled with lust, the love in her gaze shining at them even through the page. She was laying down, her hair splayed out on top of the pillow, with her arms crossed over her exposed breasts. A sheet was covering her lower half, but it was hanging tantalizingly low on her form.

Hanji cackled as Erwin covered his eyes and quickly ripped the book from her hands, tearing to the next page, his ears turning pink at the sight of such a provocative image of one of his Captains. Hanji laughed even harder when the next page contained a similar image, this time with (Y/N) leaning back in obvious pleasure, her eyes closed tightly and her mouth open, her palms splayed flat on the ground behind her, her lower half disappearing off the edge of the page.

Erwin dropped the book as if burned and turned away, his face flushed. Hanji snickered at his embarrassment and grabbed the book again, looking at the few pages of (Y/N) in different arousing positions. Despite the inappropriate theme of the sketches, Levi seemed to keep it relatively modest, never drawing anything that exposed the most private places of her body, merely hinting at it rather than drawing it in detail.

Hanji motioned Erwin back over when she finally got through Levi’s “personal” sketches, finally reaching the last drawing in the sketchbook. The final sketch was a beautiful illustration of the pretty Squad Leader staring out the window, her chin resting on her palm as she watched rain slide down the glass pane. There was a single candle on the table with her, the darkness of the night held back by the small circle of flame, her face accented by the light of the candle, her skin colored with a honeyed glow.

“Wow, Levi sure has been busy,” Hanji said softly as they admired the picture.

“I’ve been busy doing what?” A gruff voice suddenly said, causing both officers to freeze, their eyes wide with terror as an icy feeling of dread shot through their veins.

The pair looked up to see Levi leaning against the door frame, not yet aware of what they were doing due to his desk obscuring his view.

“What the hell are you doing on the floor? And why are you with Shitty Glasses, Erwin? I thought you were busy filling out all of those proposals, which was why you couldn’t come with me into town.”

When neither of them answered, Levi pushed off of the wall and strode towards his desk, a scowl of annoyance on his face.

“Oi, did you two hit your heads or something? What are you doing in-”

Levi stopped dead, his face draining of color when he rounded the desk to find Hanji holding his sketchbook open in her lap, both of them pouring over the pictures inside. He glanced at the drawer and saw the hairpin still sticking out of the lock, the metal bent to jack open the gears.

His eyes flew over the drawing they were looking at, his most recent one of (Y/N) looking out at the rain. Embarrassment washed over him then and he closed his eyes as he realized they had looked through the entire sketchbook. He felt a dark rage bubble up in his chest, boosted by his embarrassment. When he opened his eyes again, they were hard and filled with fire.

Erwin and Hanji both flinched at that look, shame flooding over them as they both glanced down at the book in Hanji’s hands. They knew they shouldn’t have done this. Hanji didn’t regret opening his locked drawer but once they figured out what he was hiding they should’ve put it back. Obviously he had hidden it in that drawer because it was his private book, something he wanted nobody else to see, and for good reason.

“Levi I-” Hanji started only for his nearly feral growl to cut her off.

Levi leaned down and snatched the book out of her grasp and hoisted it under his arm, throwing a deadly glare in their direction. He turned to move the sketchbook somewhere else but paused when he realized there was no other place he could put it without other people noticing it. His locked drawer had been the one safe place for it, the one place where nobody was supposed to be able to reach it.

Levi ended up pacing in frustration as he frantically searched for a place to put it, to no avail. The raven-haired man eventually collapsed onto the couch in the center of the room, sliding the sketchbook onto the coffee table in front of him and putting his head in his hands. He had no idea what to do. He didn’t even want to look at the two people he thought were his friends, not just because he was furious with them but also because of the shame that was hammering against his heart. They had to have seen all of the drawings of (Y/N). There was no way they didn’t if they had reached the end of his filled pages. Which meant they had seen everything.

He had never meant to draw her like that. He honestly hadn’t meant to draw her at all, afraid that if he did, it would be admitting to himself the feelings he had for her. But even though he fought it hard, he eventually succumbed to the urge to draw her when he saw her laughing at a joke he had told her, the moment so perfect he just had to put it on paper before it faded from his mind. He guessed that must have been the moment of his downfall, because after he had drawn one picture, he felt compelled to do more until his sketchbook was filled almost completely with drawings of her.

The more he drew her, the more time he spent around her, his mind subconsciously watching for more perfect moments to paint onto a page, his feelings for her growing until he was completely in love with her. The drawings had gotten more suggestive, his hand moving as if it had a mind of its own as his hunger for her grew. He had never crossed the line of drawing her completely exposed, not wanting to shame her like that, not when they weren’t even in a relationship, but he had gotten pretty close when his hormones started controlling his hand rather than his brain.

Even though he had never been vulgar with his illustrations, he knew what Erwin and Hanji must have thought when they saw it. Knew how disgusted they must be with him after seeing such things in his sketchbook. He feared they might even tell (Y/N), warn her against him so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Levi clenched his fists. He knew Erwin and Hanji had never done anything like that before, they were his friends and had always supported him, even when he pretended to hate it. But that was before they saw everything.

“Levi?”

Levi ignored the sound of Erwin calling his name, keeping his hands cupped over his face in mortification. Levi tensed a little when he felt Erwin and Hanji sit down on either side of him, but still refused to look at them, afraid to see the condemnation in their eyes.

“Levi, look up please. We are genuinely sorry about looking through your sketchbook,” Erwin said softly.

Levi looked up to throw him a filthy glare before he leaned back into the couch cushions with a sad sigh, his eyes closing as he fought the shame that reared up in his chest. He felt like throwing up. Or beating Hanji and Erwin to a pulp. Or both.

“They’re, um, really beautiful, Levi. I didn’t know you could draw like that,” Hanji offered.

Levi scoffed.

“They are! Seriously, they look like you could walk right into them. I didn’t even know you liked drawing but here you are with a book full of masterpieces,” Hanji said incredulously in response to his obvious doubt.

“Oh come on, Hanji,” Levi said, piercing her with his stare. “I know you saw them, don’t play dumb. You saw them and now I feel like a perverted bastard.”

“There’s nothing wrong with drawing (Y/N), Levi. You did a wonderful job, really made her look beautiful,” Erwin said, resting a hand on Levi’s shoulder.

“Sure, there is nothing wrong with drawing her, but there is something wrong with drawing her, like that,” Levi snapped wholly embarrassed.

“Levi, relax! You did it because you love her and it is your personal sketchbook, not meant for any eyes but your own. We know you struggle with expression, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. This was just your way of expressing those feelings, an outlet. We were never meant to see it, I’m sorry that we ever did,” Hanji said, her eyes full of sympathy for her mortified friend.

Levi looked at her, doubt still swimming in his eyes.

“It’s true, Levi. Not only that, but you have real talent. I never would’ve thought of you as an artist but you know what you’re doing. Why did you hide this from us? I think it’s really cool that you know how to draw so well,” Erwin said.

“Because it is a useless passion to have,” Levi said. “I am Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, fighting to save the human race in a world filled with man-eating monsters from hell. Being able to draw pretty pictures is pointless; I can’t exactly kill titans with a pencil. The only reason I ever let myself do it in the first place is because I need to distract myself with something mindless sometimes.”

“What are you talking about!?” Hanji squawked. “This is the coolest thing ever! Can you draw another picture of me? I think I need to have more of an obvious presence in that sketchbook.”

Levi scowled at her but sighed softly at the relief that washed over him as the bespeckled woman lightened the mood.

“No, I am never drawing you ever again, Shitty Glasses. I only did that once because I was feeling sick and wanted something to help me throw up.”

Hanji pretended to act offended, gasping dramatically and placing her hand against her chest.

Erwin chuckled at the pair and patted Levi’s shoulder comfortingly. Levi sent a weak glare in his direction but the Commander knew he was grateful.

“Hey, speaking of an obvious presence…,” Hanji said, a borderline evil grin creeping onto her face. “You have the hots for (Y/N).”

Levi growled something Hanji chose not to hear and smiled even wider.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You know she is one of my best friends, I could’ve set you guys up!” Hanji said.

“That is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Levi said. “I don’t trust you to not do something embarrassing on my behalf.”

Hanji scoffed at him and sent him a playful glare, one that he returned followed by a choice hand gesture.

“Well, now that we know, why don’t you confess to her? From the dates written on all of your drawings, you’ve been dealing with this for a while.”

Levi coughed awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “I don’t know how,” he mumbled.

“What are you talking about, Levi? You have it easy. Most people would have to buy flowers, or food, or do something else to get the source of their affections to notice them, but you won’t have to do that. You have everything right in front of you. Just give her one of your drawings, and she will surely get the message,” Erwin said with a knowing smirk.

“That’s a great idea! I’m sure she’ll absolutely love one!” Hanji squealed, clapping her hands together like an energetic toddler.

Levi thought for a minute, leaning back against the couch cushions. It could work. He had never purposely shown his drawings to anyone, but maybe trying something like this would be enough to win her heart. Nervousness wormed its way into his gut as he thought about it. What if she hated it? What if she didn’t care, turned him away without a second glance? What if she thought it was creepy or flat out didn’t like the drawing? Levi swallowed.

“Do you really think that would work?” Levi mumbled. “I do not want to fuck this up. Even if we can’t be together, she is one of the few people I call my friend, and I do not want to ruin the relationship I currently have with her because I’m inept at flirting.”

Hanji nodded enthusiastically, her glasses sliding down her nose at the movement. “Oh definitely. She’s going to think they are stunning! And we can be here to help you, if you want us to. Which one do you think you would give her?”

Levi looked at both Erwin and Hanji in turn, rolling his eyes at their identical cheshire grins. He figured he must be crazy, absolutely fucking insane, but he really could use their help, as much as he refused to admit it out loud.

Regardless of his attempts to hide his desperation, Erwin and Hanji saw right through him, their grins spreading wider as Levi scowled at them.

“Alright…,” Levi sighed, getting up from the couch and making his way back to the open drawer, making Erwin and Hanji arch their eyebrows in confusion when he passed by the sketchbook still resting on the coffee table.

“I’ve had this saved for a while. I didn’t want to put it with the others, it’s my favorite one.”

Erwin and Hanji looked up to see Levi pull out the bottom of the drawer to reveal a hidden compartment. The pair watched curiously as their friend pulled out a piece of paper that was significantly larger than the rest and turned it around for them to see.

“Well? What do you think?” Levi demanded.

____________________________

(Y/N) was walking back from the Mess Hall with her friends when a young scout came running up to her, claiming Captain Levi needed to see her in his office as soon as possible. She smiled brightly at the cadet and thanked him, before turning to her friends and waving goodbye, changing her course to head for Levi’s quarters.

(Y/N)’s stomach fluttered with butterflies as she got closer to his door but she quickly shoved them down and shook her head. She needed to focus. He was probably wanting to talk to her about the upcoming mission and what her plan was for her squad since she had missed the last meeting with the other superiors thanks to an injury she received when she saved a rookie cadet during ODM training, resulting in her crashing into a tree.

She chuckled to herself at the memory of Levi furiously chewing out the cadet afterwards. She had felt so bad for the poor kid, it had been an accident, but Levi had been no less upset by the fact that she got hurt. The thought sent more tingles up her spine and she growled in frustration, forcing herself to push her feelings to the back of her mind.

Her head finally cleared when she reached his door and knocked, smiling to herself when she heard his deep voice grant her entrance to his office. When she opened the door she found Levi facing away from her, watching something outside his window, Commander Erwin and Squad Leader Hanji standing along the far wall of the room. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows at the sight of them but saluted without hesitation, smiling when Erwin waved her off with a chuckle.

“I’m assuming because the two of you are here that this is about the details of the last meeting I missed?” (Y/N) asked, closing Levi’s door behind her with her foot.

Hanji smiled so wide her cheeks hurt as she shook her head. “Actually, no. Levi wanted to talk to you about something. Erwin and I were just leaving.”

Erwin nodded in agreement and pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against, his own lips twitching as he fought the grin that tried to run across his face.

(Y/N) watched them in confusion as the pair walked around her and left the room, Hanji’s barely concealed giggle echoing in her ear when they passed. Arching an eyebrow at her two fellow senior officers, (Y/N) eventually dropped it and turned back to Levi who so far, had not said a word.

“What’s up with them?” (Y/N) asked, trying to ease some of the awkward tension that had filled the room.

“They’re just idiots,” Levi said, but something about the way he said it seemed off. Maybe it was the lack of conviction. Or maybe it was the quiet, almost hushed way he said it, as if he wasn’t thinking about the odd behavior of their two friends at all, too lost in his own world to pay attention. (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in concern. This was not like the Levi she knew, something was wrong.

“Hey, Levi, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

Levi tensed. Damn her for being so observant. He should’ve known she would automatically pick up on his off behavior. She had always been able to read him like a book, it was part of the reason why they were so close, why their friendship worked so well. (Y/N) had always been able to figure out exactly how he was feeling or what he needed at any given moment, why would this be any different?

“(Y/N),” Levi started, taking a deep, shaky breath as he tried to ignore her intense gaze on him. He knew she was worried, but her eyes on him were making him feel nervous. He almost wanted to bail, to claim it was just to help her recap on the meeting she had missed. He even had half a mind to bury his sketchbook, never to be seen again. It would hurt him, to lose that book, and despite what he said, he did love to draw, and having that taken away would be difficult, but at least he wouldn’t have to go through all of this anxiety.

But then he thought about (Y/N). She was standing right there, waiting for him. She had always been by his side, always caring for him, even when he felt he did not deserve it. She made him feel so loved, so strong, so hopeful. He knew that if he didn’t tell her how he felt now, it would drive him to insanity. He had to do this. Clearing his throat, he started again.

“(Y/N), I called you in here because I have to give you something,” Levi said.

“Really?” (Y/N) asked. Now she was really confused.

“Yes.”

“Okay, thank you Levi. What would you like me to do?” (Y/N) asked, keeping her voice soft and steady. It was obvious he was struggling a bit and she wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Levi directed.

(Y/N) followed his orders and closed her eyes with her hands held out. She was worried about him, and even a little bit frightened for herself, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that was gnawing at her gut. What could her fellow Captain have to give her other than reports to finish, or a sword to fight with, or a cup of tea?

She was surprised when she felt something very light and thin land on her opened palms. Her brows furrowed in confusion but she kept her eyes closed, waiting for him. Levi paused once he had rested the picture in her arms. He knew she was waiting for him before she opened her eyes but he couldn’t help but hesitate for a minute. This was it. The moment of truth. Either she was going to love it and his dreams might finally come true, or she was going to hate it and he was going to lose the best thing to come into his life. Taking a deep breath, Levi leaned against the wall as he told her to open her eyes.

(Y/N) gasped loudly when she opened her eyes. In her hands was the most beautiful drawing she had ever seen. It was a picture of her, so realistic she felt as if she were looking in a mirror. In the image, she was sitting bareback on her dapple grey mare, Danika. Danika had her head up and her ears forward, looking off to the side of the page while (Y/N) leaned against her neck, her chest touching her horse’s withers and her arms on either side of the mare’s neck. In the sketch, (Y/N) had the biggest smile on her face, her eyes shining with a brilliant (e/c). Her (h/c) hair looked as if you could reach out and feel it through the page, the strands blowing in the wind.

Levi didn’t say anything as he watched her take it in, crossing his arms and subconsciously biting his lip as he waited for her response. He had drawn this image of her ages ago. It was one of the first few he had drawn of her and it was by far his favorite. He had known that day, when he was striding across the courtyard headed for the training ground, and he turned to see (Y/N) riding Danika, smiling as if she were the embodiment of happiness, that he was head over heels in love with her.

He had even abandoned his idea of training to rush back to his office, eager to put the picture of her in his head onto paper. It was his favorite one because it captured the exact moment he truly came to accept his feelings for her. It was the one he had always saved for when he was having a bad day, keeping it separated from the others so he could find it easily whenever he needed it, just the sight of her making him feel better.

Suddenly, tears formed in her eyes and Levi felt his panic rise. Oh gods, she hated it. He never meant to make her cry! He had thought it might bring her the same level of joy he got from seeing it, but instead he had just made her sad, or disgusted, or angry. He honestly couldn’t tell which one it was, not that it mattered, it was obvious she was offended by it regardless of the specific emotion it invoked. Maybe she didn’t like the way he had drawn her. He thought she looked absolutely stunning, but maybe he had accidentally accented certain features she was self conscious about? Maybe she hated her smile? Maybe she just didn’t like having her fellow Captain drawing her like a creep when they weren’t even in a relationship?

Levi quickly moved to take it from her, apologies spilling from his mouth like a river. He didn’t even know what he was saying, he was sure he was just blabbering about nonsense at this point, but he didn’t really have the mind to care as he grabbed the drawing from her and moved to put it away. He was even planning on throwing it out after she left. He absolutely adored this drawing but if she hated it, he would not make her more uncomfortable by stashing it for his own desire.

“I’m s-so sorry, (Y/N), I’ll just get rid of it,” Levi said, cursing himself for stuttering. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just thought-”

“NO!” (Y/N) shouted, making him look at her in shock.

(Y/N)’s eyes were wide as she looked at the drawing in his hand. She had honestly been rendered speechless when she first saw it, overwhelmed with the tsunami of emotions that had crashed over her. She knew he struggled with expression, so the fact that he had gone out of his way to draw her as a form of confession had brought tears to her eyes, her heart throbbing with her love for this man.

(Y/N) had loved Levi ever since they had become good friends, laughing at his surprisingly funny dry humor, ranting to him when her squad was annoying her, holding him when he had no one else to go to and life just got too hard. But she would’ve never guessed in a million years that he returned her feelings. She had just assumed her feelings would forever be unrequited and forced herself to enjoy what they had, loving him in secret. But here he was, holding his heart out to her, offering her his love and affection in exchange for hers. She almost panicked when he snatched the drawing away, thinking he had offended her with it.

“No…?” Levi asked hopefully, uncertainty sparkling in his breathtaking silver gaze.

“No, don’t you dare throw that masterpiece away,” (Y/N) said firmly, brushing the tears from her eyes.

“So you…, like it?” Levi asked.

(Y/N) finally managed to pull herself together, clearing away the love induced haze that had clouded her brain and striding up to him confidently. When she reached him, she gently took hold of the hand not holding the drawing with both of hers, her eyes meeting his gaze. She blushed at how close she was to him, and had the urge to look away when his intense hues settled on her, but she held firm. She knew he was uncertain, she had to show him exactly how she felt without hesitation, otherwise he would think she was pitying him.

“I love it, Levi. It is one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. I can tell it took you hours with all of the detail and color and expression. It looks so real, like looking in the mirror. It is the greatest gift I have ever gotten, from anyone. Thank you.”

Levi sucked in a breath at her words, his eyes wide. She really thought all of that? He had hoped she would like it but he did not expect this reaction at all. In the back of his mind, Levi made a mental note to thank Hanji and Erwin after this was over.

“You really think so?” Levi asked.

“I know so.”

Levi swallowed thickly. “Does that mean…, you accept my confession?”

More tears pricked (Y/N)’s eyes but she nodded enthusiastically, calming his fears and making him release a breath of knee-wobbling relief. He barely had a moment before she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him. Levi was a little stunned at first, but eventually slid the drawing onto his desk before wrapping his arms around her tentatively, still getting used to the contact.

“Yes, yes I accept your confession, Levi. I have loved you for a long time, I couldn’t be happier knowing that my feelings aren’t one sided.”

Levi’s heart jolted at her confession. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

___________________________

(Y/N) hummed happily as she skipped around Levi’s office, cleaning around the room while she waited for her boyfriend to get back from his one on one meeting with Erwin. Her heart fluttered as she thought about the surprisingly sweet, socially awkward man she was so damn lucky to call her own, smiling widely while she cleaned.

Their relationship was definitely still new and they were both slowly figuring each other out but (Y/N) had to admit, these past few weeks had been the best of her life. She had been surprised when Levi had confessed to her, but had been even more shocked to discover how long the man had harbored feelings for her, his actions around her telling her exactly how he felt about finally being able to call her his.

(Y/N)’s smile got bigger the more she thought about him and the slightly flustered yet determined way in which he doted on her in an utterly Levi fashion, using his blunt manner and dry sarcasm to fly through his inexperience. (Y/N) moved over to his desk and began to meticulously clean the already polished wood surface as her mind wandered, not really paying much attention to the items on his desk except to gently shift them to give her more space to clean. When she was finally done, she was about to move to another spot when she caught sight of Levi’s third drawer opened just slightly.

With further inspection, it looked as if the drawer had been slammed shut quickly, the rough movement causing the door to bounce back open a little in the process. Under normal circumstances, (Y/N) would’ve just closed the drawer and kept cleaning, but the sight of a leatherbound book caught her attention, her curiosity peaking. Glancing around her to make sure nobody was around, (Y/N) quietly shimmied the drawer open more and grabbed ahold of the book, opening it to lay flat on her lap.

The more she looked through it, the more her face changed from shock, to awe, to wonder as her eyes drank in each stunning drawing in his sketchbook. (Y/N) bit her lip when she reached the middle of the book, her system flashing with heat and surprise at what she saw. Carefully closing the book, (Y/N) slipped it back into the drawer and pushed it closed before standing and making her way to the door like nothing had happened, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she left his office.

_______________________________

Levi looked up when the door to his office opened later that night, a small smile flashing across his face at the sight of his gorgeous lover standing in the doorway. She smiled back at him and sauntered over, her eyes bright as she took in his casual appearance. In (Y/N)’s opinion, Levi looked amazing in everything, but seeing him in a pair of black comfy pants and a loose sleep shirt was hard to beat.

“Are you almost done?” (Y/N) asked once she had made it to him, leaning her hip against his desk.

“Yeah, just finishing up with these last few reports and then we can go to bed. Feel free to head in there whenever you’d like to though,” Levi said.

“Oh, I’ll wait,” (Y/N) said with a coy smile that made Levi pause in his writings. He had never seen that look on (Y/N)’s face before, at least, not in real life. His mind flashed him an image of one of his more provocative drawings of her before he quickly shoved those thoughts to the side, shaking his head a little to clear his mind.

“Do what you want,” Levi said, forcing himself to turn back to his reports.

(Y/N) settled herself on his couch and turned around to face him while he worked, admiring him from over the armrest. Her smile only got wider as she allowed herself to really look at him, his beautiful features making him seem almost painfully attractive.

Levi tried to keep focused on his work, wanting nothing more than to finish up quickly so he could cuddle with his amazing girlfriend, but he kept getting distracted. He could feel (Y/N) staring at him, her eyes on him making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his nerves tingling. Levi grit his teeth as he attempted once again to read the same sentence he had read twelve times already to no avail, her intense gaze setting him on fire.

‘Focus, idiot! Fucking focus!’ Levi chastised himself despite the hot coil of want that was swirling in his gut. He was trying to be considerate of her and the speed she had set in terms of the physical side of their relationship, but he was finding it harder and harder to appear unfazed when she wouldn’t stop watching him with that expression on her face.

Finally, Levi slammed down his pen and looked up, his scowl deepening when he saw (Y/N) smile innocently at him and his frustration. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and steady his heartbeat, Levi glared half-heartedly at his lover.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me like that, brat?” Levi asked.

(Y/N) smiled even wider and stood from the couch, her hips swaying enticingly as she made her way over to him. Levi could do nothing but freeze in his chair, his breath caught in his throat when she slithered over his thighs, making herself comfortable on his lap. His heart rate skyrocketed when (Y/N) leaned forward, her lips lightly grazing the shell of his ear, her warm breath on his skin making him shiver.

“I saw something, maybe I shouldn’t have…,” (Y/N) said coyly.

Levi froze at her words, panic flooding his system as he thought about his sketchbook. He had no idea how she could’ve found it, but there was nothing else she could be talking about, since he had nothing else he actively kept from her.

“You did?” Levi asked nervously.

“Hmmm,” (Y/N) purred against him. “I did.”

“(Y/N), I am so sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I don’t even know why I drew those pictures of you. I just really love you and I guess it got out of hand but I am so-”

(Y/N) placed a finger to his lips and rolled her eyes affectionately at her lover’s uncharacteristic rambling. Levi immediately stopped talking and waited impatiently for her to condemn him, his face flushing slightly with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in and surprised Levi by capturing his lips, encouraging him to relax until he finally gave in, the tension melting from his muscles as he kissed her back with a quiet groan. When she leaned back, Levi was looking at her with half lidded eyes, his silver hues sparkling with love and wonder for her. Her heart clenched and she smiled genuinely at him before it turned sultry, making Levi’s heart flip. Leaning forward again, (Y/N) nibbled lightly on his earlobe before speaking.

“Next time, Levi, draw me without the sheet.”

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joshslater · 4 years

Text

Escape from Al Moazaz

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Another bunch of disgusting old Arabs, drinking sweet tea, eating dates, smoking hookah, pointing finger, and chatting excitedly. It doesn’t look like they talk about me, but ever so often I think their chatter circles back to me somehow, and they point and wave and chatter in that cackle they call language. They never talk to me, never ask me to do anything. I’m free to do as I please, go where I want, but I’m sure they are lying to me. I have to leave tonight, or it will just be more of this. It’s already been over a week, several days after he said this would all be over. I think so at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if the old geezer lied about the days as well.

I arrived on a Thursday at least. I checked out from Sheraton in central Dubai Thursday morning. There are no taxes and the workforce is underpaid African or Indian guest workers on rotation, so hotel rooms are cheap. The rental car was cheap too, and gas is practically free. It literally comes out of the ground here after all. I had severely overestimated how long it would take to drive from Dubai to Abu Dhabi. It was just a straight highway and I had padded the time table way too much. I was getting close after just one hour, too early to check-in, so I decided to drive around a bit in the outskirts. Free gas, as I said. That’s when I saw the fucker.

The buildings were spaced enough that by the time you saw one, the last one was gone from view, so it qualified as a rural area. Mostly rocks in between though, so I don’t know why anyone would like to live out here. But there he was, the old man, dressed in his white dishdasha robe and picnic table cloth around his head, smiling and waving towards the car to stop. I pull up in front of the house and exit the car. It’s a decent house, none of the luxury on display inside of Dubai. I’ve never been inside anything but hotels, mega-malls and skyscrapers here, so I have no idea what the interior layout would be, but the size is roughly what a suburban family house for four would be back home.

He bows and asks me to join him for tea, in really bad English. I realize this is a bit off the beaten track for tourists, and perhaps this is a good learning experience for both. I’d love to see some authentic middle eastern hospitality, and I’d be happy to talk about whatever the reason for him to invite me. I accept his invitation and follow him through the portal. Although only one story it is quite high up to the ceiling. Interestingly we only pass through a sparsely furnished room and back out again into some sort of shaded stone garden in the middle of the building. It looks very lived in, much more so than the room we just passed through. Tables, chairs, potted plants, and hookah things. There he beckons me to sit down on one of the most decidedly western garden chairs.

He disappears back into the building and I have a look around. I guess all rooms in the building have a window into this central garden. That explains why the house had so few windows on the walls facing out, and makes total sense with all the sun they get here. The man is back with a small tray with two small glasses with amber liquid. He places one glass in front of me and takes one for himself, and without saying anything invites me to take a sip. It’s sweet and tastes of apple. I’ve had this kind of tea before, and don’t really like it. It’s not tea in my opinion, but it's drinkable and it would have had to be something far worse to offend this old man in his home. That’s when I blacked out.

I’m not sure how long I was out, but it was evening when I came to. I was lying on a thin mattress on the floor in one of the almost unfurnished, completely white rooms. It wasn’t cold, it never is here this time of year, but I could feel air touching my body. The sun is setting fast here, but the light made an orange square on the wall opposite to the high window. Murmurs and sounds of people having a pleasant time filter in. I still am not completely awake, going through different scenarios like fainting of dehydration, when I realize that not only am I completely naked, but I look very different.

Instead of my lanky, pasty body, I have a much bulkier frame covered in deeply tanned skin, in turn covered in thick, black body hair. I slowly sit up, mesmerized by what I see. The tan is perhaps a trick of light, but the bulk and the hair is not. As if there is any doubt left, the dick and balls make it clear this is a different body. As with the body both are thicker and heavier. Unlike my familiar dick this one is also longer, circumcised, and weird looking.

I ought to freak out, flail and scream, but it is all so surreal and unexpected that I either am in disbelief or shock. Slowly I get to my feet. My much heavier body compensated for and more with extra muscles. There are no mirrors in the room, or really anything but me and the mattress, so I have no idea what I look like. Very different of course, that much I can tell. I feel my head and my face. I have no idea what my face should feel like, but I have a beard now. I have a nose and a mouth and ears. The hair feels the same as always.

As I move my hands down I feel a small chain around my neck. A thin necklace with no pendant and no clasp or mechanism I can find with my fingers. It sits loose, but tight enough that I probably wouldn’t get my head through it should I try.

I don’t know what to do next. It is like the first room in an adventure game and I’ve just figured out the controllers. Just as I am about to exit I see a piece of white cloth on the white floor in front of the door. A pair of tight shorts that I put on right away. It looks obscene, almost worse than being naked. The white fabric stands out against the dark skin, drawing attention to the big dick and balls wrapped in tight cloth.

The house on the other side of the door is mostly deserted. Some furniture, but I suspect he lives alone and only uses a few rooms. It doesn’t take long to follow the sound and find a different exit into the courtyard than the one I entered through the first time. It looks the same as when I entered, but with a completely different feeling. Instead of the harsh sun everything is bathed in the orange glow of dusk. A few lamps are lit around the courtyard, and around a table sits the old man together with a few similar looking old men.

One of them sees me and utters a few Arabic words, and they all turn towards me. There is a short beat of silence and then they all burst into chatter. One of them is laughing, one of them continues staring at me, but they all appear happy. The focus shifts to the old man. They treat him like it’s his birthday or he just won a bet. One of them jumps up, spry for his age, and walks up to me. He inspects me, giving remarks back to the seated group. It’s when he prods me with his finger it feels like a spell breaks. Suddenly I’m not walking through a dream, but this is actually happening. I’m actually in this place, with these men, looking like this.

I tell him to stop. He just laughs. The old man waves at the table, inviting me to dates, harees, and flatbread. That for some reason angers me. Hunger is the least of my concerns right now. I demand to know what he has done to me. The men go from smiles to laughter. The angrier I get, the funnier they think it is. It’s only a joke, the old man tells me. It only lasts for a few days, he says. I storm back into the house and out the other side only to find my rental is gone. I quickly realize that standing in just underwear outside is not going to go down well with the police, or anyone, so I return back into the house to look for my clothes.

I don’t know what the rational thing to do is. None of this follows any reason. Perhaps I can squeeze into my old clothes, run away and then figure out who to contact. I freeze. The local police would probably be useless. The embassy would laugh me out. I might be able to convince someone back home, but I don’t even have a way to call them. All of that is true if I stay here as well.

I search the entire building, room by room. Despite the large house, it doesn’t look like the old man has much. The rooms are sparsely furnished, if not right out empty. A few rooms, like the kitchen and his bedroom, looks more normal. Nowhere do I find my stuff though, or any other clothes that would fit for that matter. We only share the same size in sandals and head scarfs.

I’m stuck, I realize, in a soft prison. Even if I could leave the house, I couldn’t leave the country. Even if I could leave the country, where would I go? Dejected I walk into the courtyard again. Some of the old men look my way, but largely ignore me as they talk about something. I sit down on a remote chair and watch them. I could kill them all. They are all really old, but probably not that frail. It would probably be a drawn-out fight with leathery, hard to kill old Arabs, but I’m sure I could do it. But that wouldn’t do me any good. I would still be here, stuck, and wanted by the police. A hard prison is worse than a soft prison.

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ladyshrike · 3 years

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Oblivion

It was a very well known fact that you and your sisters looked almost nothing like your big brother. You four were fully blood-related, yeah, but you guys couldn't have looked more different from one another. The only thing that was virtually the same, or that you guys had in common, was height. Your brother, Taishiro Toyomitsu, stood at a whopping 8'2. The twins, the second oldest two, stood at 6' exactly. And you, the youngest, stood at 6'2, just a bit taller than the twins. Why you guys were so tall, none of you knew, but it didn't bother you guys much, other than each time you may or may not have slammed your head into the doorways since not every place you've ever lived in had high door frames. But all that was just height. Appearance-wise, everyone thought, at first, you were all just really tall friends. Where he had blonde hair, you had a very pale pink color, the twins having pitch black. Where you had a very light purple undertone of skin, he was tan, and they had a light grey color. He had black eyes, you had periwinkle, and they had pretty brown eyes.

And you weren't really sure how quirks worked, that still being much of a mystery to everyone, but they were nowhere in the familial range for either of you. His quirk was Fat Absorption, you're sisters had geo-kinetic powers, and you had translucent shimmery wings and photo-kinesis.

He was a hero, Sami was a T.V. host, Dani a well-known chef, and you were dual-enrolled in college and high school. He found it a bit of a relief when the three of you told him you didn't want to be pro heroes. Since your parents' deaths, not too long ago, he'd been the one taking care of you guys. His hero job paid well enough, and with the part-time jobs there three of you had, you guys lived comfortably. Enough so that he was able to let you take a few semesters abroad. While the twins had taken vacations with their parents outside of Japan before, you'd never set foot away from it, always choosing to stay behind to keep Taishiro company. So it wasn't occasional that his fans saw him walking through the streets, patrolling, with what could have been an angelic being keeping pace beside him, both towering over the crowd. And maybe that’s where the misunderstanding took off.

You were only in town for the holiday. It was a week or so from Christmas, the girls were taking a spa day, shopping with friends that they've had since they were little. You were taking a stroll with your brother, who you found patrolling nearby where you were glancing at gifts for a friend.

“Hey, what do you think?” You asked curiously, showing him a tan jacket with a pale tan furry lining.

It was simple and warm, and surprisingly good quality for a non-brand name store.

“For you?” He asked curiously, watching you feel along the fur lining.

“No, for a friend.” You answered with a hum, making a mental note about alterations. “His jackets always get messed up, so I was planning on making something similar or just altering this one to be more...sturdy.”

“Oh? Is it a boyfriend?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow, a shit-eating grin taking over his visible face.

You snorted in reply. “Not even.”

"Good, your way too little for one," He grinned. "You're the baby of the house and you deserve the best!"

You went further back into the shop, shaking your head as your cheeks burned with slight embarrassment, looking for some boots for yourself, hoping maybe to find something for the girls too, as they were hiking fanatics and already needed a new pair of boots. You'd been just far enough to be out of earshot when he was somewhat startled by a loud-ish gasp, a few squeals of excitement and giggling, lots of giggling.

“Girl, hush! He’s probably busy right now!” Came a whispered shush.

“He’s probably patrolling, we could have just stopped at the Agency for one later!”

He looked down at the small gaggle, was that what it would be called? A gaggle? Whatever it was, in terms of correct naming, he found a small group of students from a school that wasn’t from her school, looking up at him, beaming.

“Dude, you look tiny compared to him.” One of the boys snickered, comparing the height of one friend to him.

Ah, so they were talking about him.

“Tai, you think Sami and Dani would like these?”

He turned to look at what you were showing him when another voice interrupted. “See! He’s busy Christmas shopping with his girlfriend!”

That caught you two off guard, confusing him as to where they got that assumption while you burst into a fit of deep-belly laughter, which was contagious enough to get him laughing.

“G-girlfriend?” You cackled, though it was probably closer to a chortle than that. “You think I’m his girlfriend!?”

They seemed confused. This was, to them, public knowledge.

“Y-yeah? The news reported on it a while back…”

That had your laughter dying down a bit. “What?”

“The news." One reiterated.

"They said you two were dating...there's merchandise for it too already."

As bad as that sounded, you couldn't help but burst into another fit of laughter, holding your belly as the things she planned to buy levitated above you.

"Oh, Jesus...that's hilarious!"

"Completely wrong and hilarious." He said shaking his head, wondering who he'd have to call to get that recanted.

"So you two aren't…"

"No, gods no, I'm his sister," You chuckled softly. "It's confusing cause we don't really look like siblings, but I swear, I'm his sister."

"But the clip of you kissing him?"

"He kissed my forehead, I was leaving for Sydney to study abroad." You explained.

"Oh no…"

You looked up at your brother, confused at his deadpan expression.

"The fan mail…" At that, you fell silent, realization dawning on you.

You grimaced at that. "I'm over it." You said, shaking your head. "I'm gonna go pay for the stuff...it was nice to meet you, kids, thanks for the laugh."

By the time you got back, and your things were neatly wrapped in boxes, thanks to the nice old lady that ran the store, you found him standing at the entrance still, sighing heavily at the information they got from those kids.

"Gossip sights are the worst…"

"It's as bad as high school gossip." You agreed, letting him help with the bags when he offered. "They don't check sources, they just run with the rumors."

Putting that disturbing information aside, the two of you talked about what you'd be getting for the Christmas party he was holding at his agency. Tai was bringing his lady love, the twins were bringing their boyfriends and you were bringing some friends. You three didn't usually go, not really ones for parties as you girls were more reserved and introverted, but this year was pretty different. The four of you were all together for once since you started going abroad for school, the twins were kicking off their careers with a running start, and Taishiro had just gone up in ranking, so this Christmas was pretty special.

Not even mentioning you were obviously lying about the boyfriend thing.

The jacket was for a friend you'd made a little over two years or so ago, now your boyfriend, and you both thought it a good idea if he actually met your family. You would have met his family but, well, he was a child of the commission, trained from a young age, and didn't remember much about his family, his childhood being intense training and no fun or very memorable moments.

But they'd get to meet him later, right now, Taishiro was getting a call from his sidekick for backup.

"You think you can drop me off, sweetpea? They need backup."

You nodded, letting the gifts float above you guys again as you spread your wings, the translucent shimmering constructs of what somehow seemed to be solid light, as impossible as they seemed, catching on the light of the sun. You hooked your arms under his and pushed off with ease, carrying him to the attack sight just a few blocks over.

"There!"

You nodded, letting him go as he dropped below, getting straight to work as you landed on the building to the side of it all to wait. He was off patrol soon anyway and you two still had to figure out where they were getting catering for the party. You guys had to get this all done a little over a week in advance because, well, all four of you ate quite a bit. Him for his quirk and you three because...well you guys were insatiable at times. You didn't know why, and the doctors couldn't figure it out, so all you guys could do is eat.

"Wow, one of these for me, Angel?"

You didn't need to turn to know who it was, but you did squeal in delight when you were pulled into the stairwell of the roof you were on, your boyfriend's face nuzzling between your wings, his hold careful around them as they illuminated the dim closed off area.

"Yes and no." You hummed, arms resting over his around your waist, enjoying his warmth in contrast to your cool skin. "I got something to model your gift after...have to make it sturdy knowing you."

"Oh? S'it a new pair of glasses?" He asked with a content sigh.

You shook your head, pulling away slightly to turn in his arms, your wings disappearing and giving your skin a slight pale lavender glow as you rested your chin on his shoulder, now down to a similar height as you'd shrunk down a bit.

"Not telling...you have to wait till Christmas."

"Awe, no hint?" He pouted his hold just a bit tighter. "How bout Christmas Eve then, little dove? Can I open it then?"

"Christmas Eve...a quarter to twelve?" You offered as a compromise.

It was technically still Christmas when he'd open it, but he'd agree. He knew that holiday was a big thing for you, your parents having died a few years back days before it. It was the first time your family was actually even celebrating it according to you. The last actual Christmas you'd had, had been two years ago, just before the two of you met.

"A quarter to twelve." He agreed.

You grinned, taking his face in your hands and pressing a kiss to his lips, only making it grow wider when you noted the faint taste of something on them.

"You cannibal." You giggled at the inside joke, pulling away as he laughed a genuine laugh, not something many have heard.

"Can't help it, Fried chicken is amazing."

That left you snorting in reply, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. "Whatever bird brain, be careful out there." You said heading downstairs, hand glowing to light your way. "And maybe I'll treat you to some next time."

"I'll keep you to that!" He called down, the sound of the door opening coming after.

You sighed contentedly, getting to the door, which was boarded off, and pulling it open with ease into the abandoned parking garage. Part of you was still worried, and would always be worried. It was the same way when you thought of your brother going out every day. He was a pro hero, they both were, and their lives were considered dangerous. You knew they were helping people, and you were proud of that, but it'd never keep the worry out of your mind that one day, they might not come back. It scared you, made you panic to think one day you'd wake up and have to see them in a casket or have to carry them home in an urn or sit through another wake and funeral.

You shook your head, the intrusive thought nearly making tears well in your eyes. You found it funny how you never thought of death until your parents died.

With a deep breath, you let your wings out again, the glow fading slightly as you went downstairs, meeting up with Taishiro and his interns and sidekicks outside.

"Miss Fen! Nice to see you around again for the holidays!" His intern greeted.

"It's nice to see you again too, Yukkiko-san."

#keigo takami #hawks x reader #hawksxreader #taishiro toyomitsu #keigo takami x oc

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haiky-u-lously · 3 years

Text

King Kuroo and the Red Knights (11)

Summary:

A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader.

Themes:

Action/fighting/killing, dead bodies, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings:

Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Gore and fighting, mention of explosion, mention of seeing dead bodies

Word Count:

For Chapter: ~3800words

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always.

Teru v. Satori

Miya twins fight.

Who wins the first bout of the tourney?

I know, I've disappeared for awhile. And I truly am sorry, but life gets in the way, right? And that issue from summer 2020 has persisted and made life mostly...not worth appreciating. But I decided if I can push past the pain on the daily to do things I dont like, I can find a little bit of time throughout the month to do something I do also. Thus my decision to start writing for this once more came to fruition and I am able to present this chapter update. I don't think chapter 12 will be done until end of next month, but I think monthly updates should be agreeable as its better than nothing...

As Always, questions, comments, concerns, ideas and such are always welcome! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

–Admin Red

Chapter 11: Round 1A

You and Suga approached the stadium set up for the first round of the tournament, large crowds of Camelot’s citizens overtaking the grounds and standing around the tents put up for the fighters to use before and between bouts.

“Oi! Sugawara!” You’d heard called, both your friend and you turned to the person calling for his attention. “I was just sent to find you two. Kuroo wants you up in the space he’d prepared for Yuurei so you can enjoy watching the show as much as the residents of Camelot. Follow me if you will.”

Suga nodded before motioning for you to follow the attendant’s lead first. Both of you taking in the sights along your path.

The small flags and banners flying in the sky, attached to sticks or just held by the people attending the tournament, hearing the screams of excitement as passerbys tried to get into the stands--for what you presumed were attempts to get good positions to watch the fights that were about to begin--it was a lot to take in.

“Is it generally this crazy come tournament times?” Suga yell-asked the man weaving your pair through the throngs of civilians.

He smiled back at your companion before answering with his own scream, “Nah, we just haven’t had all the knights of Camelot fight in the same tournament in a long stretch, so this is a pretty big occasion for its citizens.”

You waved to Suga as you sent your question to his mind so he could ask for you.

“Ah, the Red Knight wants to know what the different flags are for, that everyone has!” He screamed just as your trio broke through the group still pushing for entry into the stands.

Futakuchi laughed as he pointed out the tents littered around the ground and then back to the flags, “Basically it’s who the citizen’s are rooting for to win.”

“Really?” Suga asked in disbelief, mirroring your expression despite him not being able to see your face.

“Yea, see. Different knights have those they prefer to work with, so the first time we’d had a tournament like this Kuroo set up groups for the people to pick and choose who they wanted to cheer on by their colors. And, to all our surprise the citizens got really into it.”

Futakuchi laughed, still leading your pair around to your destination. “Some are alone, like Teru’s, all his fans carry the mostly yellow flag and he gets the yellow tent. But others are one unit, so the people cheer for everyone, like Yamagata, Ushijima, Semi, and Satori. See their tent, the flags used to cheer for them are also purple and white.”

You laughed to yourself before nudging Suga to get his attention, then thrusted your chin towards Futakuchi to show you wanted to know who he had as cheerleaders, if any.

“Ha!” He cackled out, shocking the brunet leading you and making him face your friend questionably, “Does anyone cheer for you? Which color flag represents your fans?”

“Wow, rude. To think I went to all the trouble to make sure you two would be represented with flags and fans as well.” He tsk’d back teasingly in return, “Just so you know, I am grouped with Aone, so all the white with dark teal flags and banners represent our fans.”

Suga nodded, playing impressed at the statement, “Aone’s fans sure are nice to cheer for the King’s servant alongside him.”

“Yea, they are---oh shut up! You have no room to talk since none of Camelot’s citizens have even seen you fight!” It was funny that the other magician had initially taken Suga’s words as a compliment, only to realize he was still teasing and you appreciated that the pair could be so friendly with one another after only having met a week ago.

He stormed off and you followed once again. Only this time checking the other colored groups and trying to connect which colors indicated which knights.

Seeing the orange and black flags, you pieced together that those probably indicated people wanting to cheer for Daichi or Asahi as you’d watched them head into that tent. You’d seen Bokuto leave the tri-colored tent and assume that meant his fans were the ones carrying the black-yellow-and-white flags. You saw half white and half black flags but couldn’t think who that would mean since you hadn’t seen a similar tent around the grounds.

“Oh-!” Suga gasped out, backing up from accidentally ramming into a group of citizens running across the field to try a different entrance into the stands.

“Apologies Sir knight!” One of the men turned and yelled back, the white and turquoise flags sticking out of his pockets waving behind him as he ran further ahead. His friend stopped to give a more formal apology, “Sorry for running into you sir. We are in a rush to get inside before they close the gates for the first fight. Please forgive us.”

Suga smiled sweetly at the young man, thankful that he’d kept his helmet off after getting into his borrowed gear for the fight. “No problem, really. But can you tell me who your flags mean you’ll be cheering for?”

The boy’s eyes shined brightly as he explained their choice to win was the knight Iwaizumi, “He is one of the strongest knights of Camelot’s courts and definitely one of the most strategic fighters. He’ll for sure place top four if he somehow doesn’t win!”

“Oi!” Futakuchi yelled, hearing the praise for the knight. “Don’t you know you are speaking to Iwaizumi’s opponents for the day? Don’t go around spewing nonsense!”

The boy laughed, stuck his tongue out at the King’s servant and ran to catch up with his friend.

“Well, let’s hurry.” Futakuchi said to you and Suga, “Kid’s right that they will close the gates to the stands before the first fights begin. And they should be closing them in a few moments now.”

Finally arriving at the gate you needed to enter, you noted the giant black and red banner. Running the few steps to tap on his shoulder, you pulled Futakuchi’s attention from just leading you straight under the fabric lined passage.

“Oh, yea. I guess color wise, we told the citizens that red would mean our guests or Kuroo. Since he normally has a monopoly on the red flags and banners we just thought it’d be easier to group your pair with him. If you fight, someone will make an announcement to say not to use the colored gear.”

You bowed your head in thanks for the explanation and thought back to the half black and half white flags, which you hypothesized to mean the twins Atsumu and Osamu after having figured out everyone else’s fans’ colors.

“Well, here we are. You can watch the rounds you aren’t fighting in from there,” Futakuchi smiled at your pair. “This is the royal’s private viewing box, so there is a bit of a buffer between the seats and the crowd of citizens in the rest of the stands. And it splits the grounds so you should be able to see both fights easily.”

“Are you not staying?” Suga asked.

Futakuchi smiled before answering, “No, I have to get some things together between fights, and make sure Kuroo’s gear is all well and good before my own bout. You both enjoy though!”

With that, the attendant left down the passageway you’d just come. You shrugged to Suga before pushing back the curtain and stepping into the space you could view the fights from.

_____________________________

“Ah, welcome welcome!” King Kuroo called, seeing you come in the mostly enclosed space, “I have seats for both of you. Thanks for joining me!”

You nodded to be polite as you took one of the seats he wasn’t standing in front of. Suga took the seat on his other side and the King sat down again.

He waved his hand in the air and in the corner of your vision you watched the guards leave the space. “I am probably as excited about this as the citizens are. It’s been a good while since everyone fought in the same showcase, let alone fight one another so explicitly. And having our guests as prime competitors doesn’t hurt the excitement levels at all. How are you two feeling? Thrilled as well I hope.”

You shook your head despite the wide grin on your face, not wanting to give in to his animated-ness, but Suga just laughed and said, “Despite his reaction the Red Knight is just as delighted by all this fanfare. We look forward to the fights, both watching and participating. Thank you for your inclusion, your Majesty.”

Kuroo waved away Suga’s mannerisms and clapped his hands together before shouting for the citizens to calm themselves, “AAAAAHH-TEEEEN-TIOOON!”

After a short stretch of time where the people quieted one another down, he smiled at everyone in the stands, watched as their hands clutched around flags and banners that supported the knights they loved, and grew even more excited at what laid out before him. The twins stood just a few feet apart on one side, facing the king in full armor, one having a black box painted on his gear while the other had a white box painted on his. You couldn’t tell which twin was which with their helmets on, but you were excited to watch them fight. The other side saw two knights, also with blocks painted on their backs, one having a plain yellow box and the other purple with a white stripe crossing from one corner to the other. Using Futakuchi’s explanation from before you knew the knight with the yellow block had to be Terushima and having memorized the fighting line-up, the other had to be Satori. Another fight you should have your eyes on. You smiled to yourself, agreeing with Futakuchi that these two would be very entertaining.

“Let me just say, thank you! Camelot, your knights fight for their honor. Cheer for the winners, cheer for a good fight. Cheer for those you believe in as these are the men always putting their lives on the lines to protect your livelihood!” The screams across the makeshift stadium made you sense the amount of love and support the citizens felt towards the knights and Kuroo as their King. He held his hand up and waited for the crowd to quiet down once more before continuing. “Today we will also see our guests from the Red Knight Order fight our beloved Knights of Camelot! Be sure to wish them luck against our men!” The cheers carried across once more and Kuroo laughed at his own antagonizing words. “Then, last thing! Today’s bouts will be the first and second rounds. Tomorrow we will see the final three rounds that will determine the overall victor!” Another pause for cheers to circle the crowds, and Kuroo grinned from ear to ear before finally shouting out, “LET THE TOURNAMENT BEGIN! Fighters...START!”

As soon as the king shouted, one of the twins shortened the distance with the other and swung his shield, pushing his opposers’ sword out of the way as he moved to strike.

The attacked knight blocked the flying blade with his own shield before swinging his blade around to attack the headpiece of his opponent. Making a clean hit against the helmet before the knight could push his arm away with their shield.

The black marked knight spun with his sword out as he used the weight behind his shield wielding appendage to force the white marked knight to protect against the larger chunk rather than the thin blade, taking the hit from the sword against his back as the current attacker continued his spin.

Stepping onto his back foot, the white marked knight lifted his toe from the grounds and momentarily tripped the black marked knight, hitting his helmet with the shield as his opponent stopped himself from falling face first into the dirt from, and tried to protect himself from the pressure while getting up.

Standing up straight, the black marked knight pushed his arms out against those of the other and made a clear path for a strong kick into his twin’s abdomen. After getting kicked, the night steadied his footing and swung his blade at his brother. The force behind the swing was strong as the black marked knight barely deflected it with his shield, the audible thunk could be heard despite the screaming crowd.

The back and forth continued between the pair and you felt your vision get pulled to the fight opposite. Between Terushima, marked in yellow and Satori, marked in the purple and white.

You were shocked to realize that both knights carried two swords rather than a sword and shield. As Terushima swung one sword down from above his head, Satori crossed his blades to catch the attack’s force. Spinning out from the exchange and hitting away the opposite blade Terushima had swung at his side.

Satori swiped at the shoulder of his opponent with one blade only to be blocked, then maneuvered to swing his other sword at the greaves of his opponent, probably in hopes to get Terushima to fall to his knees in way of protection, but the yellow marked knight side stepped and half spun to catch the balde with his own and force it into the ground.

Watching the two fight, you felt like you were watching an elegant dance. The pair played off one another with ease, obviously it wasn’t their first time facing off against one another. You waved to catch Suga’s attention but realized quickly that your friend was entranced watching the pair you’d just pulled your eyes from.

“It’s hard to pick who to watch, isn’t it?” Kuroo asked you, seeing you wave to your companion. All you could do was nod as you brought your sight back to the twins’ fight.

The black marked knight had just rolled to avoid the downward swing of the white marked knight’s blade, and you realized he must have fallen over while you were watching the other pair.

“Sugawara is watching Teru and Satori, perhaps you should watch the twins and you both can compare notes later.” Kuroo leaned in and whispered to you, probably to be heard over the shouts of the audience, but it still caught you off guard. You held your thumbs up to indicate you’d heard him but kept your helmet facing the twins’ fight so as to not feel embarrassed from having someone other than Suga be so close to you, even if it was only for a moment.

The black marked knight stood once more and threw his shield out of reach, this made you realize that the white marked knight no longer had his shield either and you wondered if throwing the shield aside was meant to say they would fight in the same manner.

The white marked knight seemed to get angry by this action and rushed the black marked knight. Blade swinging in cross cuts and varying angles as he tried to overwhelm his opponent who was now only dodging and shielding with his own blade.

You blinked and suddenly the attacker was on the defensive as the black marked knight was striking just as fiercely as he’d defended against. The sparks flying from the connecting metals washed around the pair as if a shining rain was falling around them. It was beautiful to watch, even if it was a different beauty than a fight that resembled a dance.

The bout continued, and with a harsh swing up along his chest plate, the white marked knight swiped away the helmet around his brother’s head, showing everyone who was whom in the fight.

Osamu shook his head out after getting his helmet knocked off before adjusting his footing and holding his blade with both hands, ready once more for an attack from his brother.

Atsumu rushed his twin, blade just below his navel as steady hands held it ready to swing in either a straight or upward trajectory. Turning his back to let his pauldron catch the attack, Osamu bent down in a half squat. Realizing too late to resist the caging, Atsumu could only feel as his brother wrapped his arm under his leading foot and over his swinging arm as he was lifted into the air before being released and flung to the ground.

He coughed against the dirt as he swiped his gloves at his helmet to get the obstructing metal out of the way of his airways.

Osamu however, just righted his footing, and stood ready to attack or defined with his lone sword once more.

The blonde twin seemed to growl through his clenched teeth as he staggered to stand again, dragging his sword to use as a prop-up, before readying himself.

You felt eyes on you and glanced at Osamu again, watching as he smiled to Kuroo before loosening the grip on his sword’s hilt, even as his twin screamed out and rushed him. You felt yourself stand and grip the edge of the private viewing box you were in, as you watched the gray haired twin turn a serious face back towards his opponent but not take a stronger hold against his blade.

Atsumu swung in an x pattern over and over again, and watched as the sword in Osamu’s hands began to falter until he parried around it, knocked his twin back onto the hard ground with a shove, and held the tip of his blade against his opponent's neck. “Do you concede, Samu?” The blonde asked teasingly, believing he’d won the bout.

Osamu just smiled as he pushed the blade away from his collar, “Yea yea Atsu, good job.” The blonde twin laughed before standing and holding out a hand to help his brother up as well. Both men waved in appreciation to those who’d cheered for them, but then Osamu stepped back to allow his brother to accept more praise as the winner.

You shook your head in disbelief as you returned to your seat.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Kuroo asked you, but you just looked at him, pushing for further information. “Osamu always lets Atsumu win these things because he doesn’t care about the fanfare or being called the strongest. He just wanted to fight alongside his brother and help him achieve his dreams. I’ve never actually seen him fight to his fullest extent against his twin.”

It really was hard to believe, but thinking upon it further you felt you kind of understood. Looking at Suga’s smiling face as he watched the other fight that still continued, you knew he’d probably thrown more than a few fights during your training sessions to encourage your own working towards your goal. You appreciated your cousin even more from that thought, but only moved your attention to the fight that was still going.

Terushima’s blade crossed parallel to one another and the ground against Satori’s breast plate, forcing him to take a few steps back to protect his arm from getting caught by the attack. Satori spun, both arms outstretched as his blades extended his reach and they twisted, pulling dirt up from the tip sending the earth into the sky as his turning angled the blades opposite one another, in a move to try and kick up the dirt as cover, though light as it would be.

Both fighters stood, they seemed to catch their breaths as the dust around them began to settle. After his short pause, Satori went on the attack and swung his blades against Terushima’s helmet, the defender just a bit too slow in reacting to place his blades between his opponent and his protective gear. He turned his swords to sit against his shoulders as he steadied his upper body and kneed then kicked Satori away from him, causing the purple marked knight to retreat a few steps and attempt to stop himself from doubling over. He went on the attack again but moved too quickly, as he started falling from tripping over a protruding rock, Terushima kneeled down and swung the falling knight over his shoulder, making him land on his backside and crossing his own blades over his opponent’s neck. Trapping Satori against the earth unless he wanted to risk the blades cutting the chainmail against his collar.

Satori tapped out against the blades crossed above his neck, giving the victory to Terushima who jumped and yelped in his excitement before removing his blades and helping his friend to a standing position.

“Good fight Satori, but you lost again!” You heard the tease despite the blonde still sporting his helmet.

Satori ripped his own protective gear from his head before tsk’ing in response, “We’ll see how long this sudden winning streak lasts you, Teru. Just wait and see.” Moving to leave the grounds in front of the onlookers, Satori grumbled to himself about how he really did not want to deal with the new recruits after all. Terushima followed his friend out of the main arena, but laughed at his expense. Sending out teasing comments to antagonize him further. The pair disappeared down the tunnel of the exit and you finally turned to the King and Suga beside you.

“Well that was entrancing!” Suga exclaimed excitedly, “I’m sad I couldn’t tear my eyes from them, I wish I could have seen the twins’ fight also!”

Kuroo laughed before saying that he understood what your friend meant, “I told the knight to watch their fight solely because we both recognized you were already pretty attached to watching those two face off against one another.”

You smiled behind your helmet but nodded in agreement with the King’s statement.

“Well didn’t you two become chummy while I was distracted.” Suga teased you point blank, “Maybe I should cheer for Asahi during your match. We are childhood friends after all.”

Rolling your eyes, you held up an L sign with your hand, indicating your feelings towards his tease which caused your friend to laugh and Camelot’s King to mumble in confusion not knowing what was going on between your pair.

“Fine fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut for your fight. But do try and take it easy on him.” Suga caved to you, laughing out against your motions.

“Take it easy? Hells no!” The King shouted, facing you with a grin and a hint of mischief dancing in his vision, “I want you to beat that late comer like he is fresh cow manure. It’s his punishment anyways.”

It took all your concentration to not laugh out at Kuroo’s words, but you just nodded before exiting the partitioned area and moving to enter the main arena from the tunnel the prior fighters had just left through.

_______________________________________________ Table of contents:

Chapter 10 Chapter 12

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 7

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 7)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The secret history of Logan and Roman begins to come to light while little pieces of Roman's world start to fall apart around him, resulting in a late night confrontation that exposes Roman's role in reuniting Virgil with his big brother.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: MORE CHAPTERS INCOMING, ‘cause this was getting super bloated. IDK, I just have a lot of feelings, and I’m rushing ‘cause I want the boys to kiss and be happy so I can start my series of smutty one-shots...I mean, what? >.> <.< XD

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1020, A.A.

“Hold on...just hold on...”

It took all his effort to stay calm, keeping the rhythm of his compressions steady the way Remus taught him. It was different, watching his twin tap-tap-tap the chest of a tiny kitten and blowing a careful stream of air into its snout—this was a boy, an entire person and his skin was pale as marble, lips tinged the blue of Father's lapis ring...

The body under his hands spasmed, a gush of water suddenly erupting from his mouth. Thinking as quickly as he could, Roman tipped the boy's head to the side so he could spit the water on the grass beside the river that ran behind the palace, and not swallow it back into his lungs—but you couldn't swallow things into your lungs, could you? Was it wrong? Was he doing this wrong?

...pulse. He should feel for a pulse, right? That's what Remus said...

Roman pressed fingers to the boy's throat, sagging when he felt the rapid flutter of a heartbeat there...at least until the boy twisted away and scrambled back, still hacking and shaking from the chill air and his sodden clothing.

Blue eyes met green, and eleven year old Prince Roman Sanders was struck breathless by the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his short life.

“Careful—it's all right, I won't hurt you.” he soothed, raising his hands and remaining on his knees. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

The other boy blinked, water dripping off clumped eyelashes like diamonds falling to roll down his wet cheeks. He had jet black hair, plastered to his head, and even with his heart beating again, his skin was still so pale. His eyes sparkled like the river water itself, clear and bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

“I...was dead.” the other boy hiccuped, bringing a hand to his chest as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I...well, yeah. I mean, your heart wasn't beating, so I used the vital breath to make it start again. My brother taught me.”

The boy blinked, his thin but well formed lips drawing into a curious pout that made him flinch, made him reach up and touch his lower lip—sporting a shallow cut that matched one on Roman's, where he'd been a little too forceful pressing his mouth to the boy's so he could force air into his lungs.

“You...you brought me back from the dead.”

Roman blinked—but when he said it like that, he supposed that he had. Wow.

“I didn't use magic.” he said instead of...literally anything else. “I swear it.”

“On the Spider's Thread?”

“What's that?”

“The bond that unites souls.” the boy explained. “It's the most sacred oath in the world, 'cause if you break it the Fates will tear you from the Living Tapestry.”

“What's the Living Tapestry?” Roman asked, shifting to edge closer to the boy.

“The world.” he replied through chattering teeth. “And all the people in it...and you stopped them. You stopped Fate.”

“But—I didn't use magic. I didn't...really stop Fate, I...I just...you were floating in the river, and—I had to try.” Roman explained, feeling strange with all this talk of bonded souls and raising the dead, and how pretty the boy was.

“Is...is that okay?”

The boy watched him with a look Roman couldn't make heads or tails of...but after a moment he nodded.

“It's okay.” he assured him, shifting onto his knees slowly.

“Good.” Roman replied, then winced a little when the clickclickclickclick of the boy's chattering teeth became audible.

“You're so cold—you'll catch your death without some dry clothes.” He looked down at himself—equally wet from diving into the river to pull the boy out. “I could bring you back to the palace to dry off and--”

“I can't go there.”

Roman flinched at the forceful way he said it, harsh and tinged with fear. He didn't need to be his brother to connect the dots.

The boy knew a lot about death magic, and he was afraid of the palace. He was Necromata...but he was small and beautiful and shivering, and he wasn't sure anyone so awestruck by the vital breath, of all things, could be as evil as he'd been raised to believe.

Could they?

Roman thought for a moment, then struggled to his feet and started pulling off his tailored white tunic, leaving him in a simple black cotton undershirt.

“What--”

“I'm going to walk you home.” Roman insisted. “You're in no shape to be by yourself—and if I'm dressed like a citizen, no one will recognize me as a prince! You'll be safe.”

The boy watched him as he finished stripping off anything that would mark him as nobility, even discarding his boots so he was walking barefoot. When he was done, the boy was still kneeling on the ground, just...staring at him.

“What?”

“You said 'citizen.' Not 'commoner.'”

Roman made a face. “I don't like the word. I don't think people are common—I like to watch the roads from my bedroom window and imagine all the stories that the people who travel them have to tell. Common people are boring, and how can anyone with so many stories be boring?”

The boy hesitated, but finally started to get to his feet.

“Thank you...apologies. I don't know which prince you are.”

“Roman. I'm Prince Roman.” he offered, extending his hand to the boy to help him up. “And I swear—by the Spider's Thread—that I will see you home safe.”

Regarding the hand thoughtfully, the boy reached up to take it.

“Salutations, Your Highness. I am Logan Crofter.”

Their fingers touched—and Roman's heart froze when the other boy screamed.

********** 1033, A.A.

“At the end of the day, Your Majesty, the truth will come out: you're not merely a pawn of the necromancer. You're in league with him—and the Sanders line will fall from power. After all, twins don't long survive the death of their other half—or so the stories say.”

The words were going to haunt Roman long past the resurrection of his father—then again, so was the broken hand that still throbbed where he'd punched the court mage in a fit of blind fury.

“Roman!”

He stopped in his tracks, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings: he was storming down the corridor that would lead to the north wing, where Patton and Logan were being kept. Head still spinning with the angry shouts and protests of both royal advisors and soldiers loyal to Colonel Mori, he'd fled the crowded throne room after breaking the mage's jaw with only the sound of his brother's cackling to comfort him.

Without his permission, his feet were trying to carry him towards the necromancer—towards Logan.

The one who was depending on him. The one who was helping him...the one...

Footsteps pounded behind him. His eternal, steady awareness of his own twin was all that kept Roman from being startled by the hand that grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Roman.”

Remus stood there in front of him, hands on his shoulders, wearing an uncharacteristically sober expression. For one moment, in his mind's eye he saw Logan and Virgil, somewhere in the palace, having a similar encounter—the image had clung to the back of his thoughts since a discreet intrusion from Remy let him know that Logan was okay, his hope for both of them a fantasy he couldn't stop himself from willing into reality.

Logan had his brother back. Virgil had his...the notion of it made Roman ache, brought him dangerously close to thinking about things he couldn't entertain. Not a hint, not even a memory.

Hold on.

Do not let go.

I never have...I never will.

Roman was clutching at Remus's hands on his shoulders before he could stop himself, staring down his twin. For a second, Remus's eyes widened and his gaze grew distant—looked at him like he wasn't there, didn't seem to see him through whatever wheels were turning in his head...

Then the wall came down, his hands slid away from Roman's...his arms opened, and Roman collapsed into them. He felt the tears fall, then stream, then shook with sobs torn from his marrow. The dangerous memories fell away, replaced instead by the chill of the king's lifeless body, the stillness in Roman's arms, the stiffness of rigor setting in as he held him close before the guards forced him back into the castle.

His father was dead.

Father was dead.

In the heart of the palace, Roman came apart, and Remus gently put him back together with strong arms, soft words, and shared pain.

********** 1021, A.A.

“You're sure this is all right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I wish it.”

The pair were walking by the river, Logan's request. He wouldn't tell Roman anything more than that he had to do something as part of his training, and that he wanted Roman's help. Logan's Grandpap didn't know he was doing it, Roman lied about being sick to get out of his lessons and sneak out for the afternoon...

It was confusing as hell, and Roman would be a lot more afraid of the chances he was taking if it were anyone but Logan asking him to do this.

“But what if your Grandpap finds out about...whatever we're doing, and you get in trouble?” Roman protested.

“Then he can...”

Logan trailed off and stopped walking with a frown before fumbling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach into his pocket for the vocabulary cards that had been a staple since Roman started teaching him outsider slang. The clumsiness came from reaching into his right pocket with his left hand—because his right hand was busy being firmly enmeshed with Roman's.

“...'deal.'” Logan finished once he'd pulled the cards out and read the top one. Glancing up to meet Roman's gaze, he offered him the small, triumphant smirk that anyone else might read as arrogant confidence. Roman knew it was all Logan allowed himself in moments of triumph—pride in the hard-won victories.

“You've been studying.” Roman observed, doing a miserable job of hiding a smile.

Logan stopped in his tracks, released Roman's hand, and shuffled through the vocabulary cards for another one, speaking as he displayed it for Roman's evaluation.

“'Duh.'”

Roman dissolved into giggling, and on impulse reached out, pulling Logan into a hug. The ten year old boy immediately tensed, breath stilling at the unexpected embrace.

Roman didn't let go, but he did loosen his arms for Logan's benefit. He waited to see if he'd bolt or...

Roman watched the vocabulary card flutter to the ground as Logan let them go, and very deliberately wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, laying his cheek against Roman's shoulder. He was still tense, but held on.

“Too much?” Roman asked softly.

“Yes.” Logan replied.

“Hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“...no. I...”

“Breathe, Logan. Remus says it's important to breathe—and important to take it slow 'cause you're touch starved.” Roman reminded him. “I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I really don't want to hurt you. I'll let go if you ask me to.”

“I know, just...”

“What is it, Logan?”

“...more.”

The way his voice fractured and his arms reflexively tightened broke something inside of Roman as he did as he was asked: held tighter, pressed his face to Logan's hair, stood still and gave hugging his best friend his whole attention.

That was the moment Logan let out a shaky sigh and sagged in Roman's arms. He didn't know what it was, but he had to be thinking about touching Logan for it to stop hurting. Sometimes it was still too warm and too overwhelming, but it didn't seem to hurt him as bad when he was just standing there, willing his whole attention into Logan.

“...it's the Warping.”

Roman frowned a little, lifting his head just enough to rest his cheek against Logan's hair instead of his whole face. “What?”

“The Warping.” Logan repeated quietly, his breath puffing warm against Roman's neck. “I must commune with the dead as part of my training. The fiber strung onto the loom for weaving is called the warp, while the fiber that is strung across this is called the weft. The Warping is preparing myself to learn how to find the Loom of Memory—a state of consciousness where I can work my power properly.”

Roman nodded against Logan's head. “What do I need to do?”

“Just be with me...technically, I am supposed to do it alone, but I researched the ritual, and it is believed that, in the Old Times, a Weaver could bring their Animata to the Warping.”

“But I'm not an Animata.”

“No, but the Animata's defining characteristic was that they were twin souls—and you are a twin. I believe your presence will be acceptable.” Logan replied. “I...am supposed to acclimate myself to the emotions of the dead. It's not really my strongest area—feelings—and...”

Logan didn't finish. Just held on, tensing a little, then relaxing—leaning into Roman's embrace.

“You're afraid.” Roman finished for him softly.

“Fear is an emotion. I feel nothing.” Logan insisted petulantly—and it was petulant with the way he huffed soft against Roman's neck. “Necromancers have no souls with which to feel.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It's true.”

Silence fell again.

“...if I had a soul, however...I would entrust it to you.”

Roman felt something in his stomach tremble at that, soft and shivery and bright.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he asked softly.

Logan didn't answer right away—as he did with things he was never terribly sure of.

“Grandpap says that the Spider's Thread is woven by Fate, not by magic.” he replied instead of a real answer.

Roman fell silent at that, just holding onto Logan and trying to ignore the way that having Logan close like this, pledging him his non-existent soul, quiet breaths on his neck and head on his shoulder made his chest warm, made his heart do pleasant, squirmy things in his chest.

“Do...you believe in Fate, Logan?” he asked softly, not sure why he suddenly felt like holding his breath. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

Like most things Logan knew—which was almost everything—he answered immediately.

“I have since I met you.”

********** 1033, A.A.

Roman couldn't sleep that night—which was a good thing, seeing as how his room was invaded at three AM.

It happened silently, but he was emotionally raw and vaguely paranoid after what had happened to his father, after the threats made against him and all he cared for by the members of his own guard, his own court—or, perhaps, he just felt Logan's magic still teeming in his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs full of air. Maybe the nearness of him set something off, magic calling to magic.

One moment, the dark was empty and gaping like the hole in his chest that lingered ever since his breakdown in the halls with Remus, and the next it opened wider before filling with a presence that teased him with both the promise of danger and comfort.

When the blade touched his throat, he already had his hand under the pillow.

“Virgil, don't.”

Roman expected Logan's voice—he did not, however, expect that Logan had company.

Snapping his fingers to call to life the luminaries in his room, Roman sat up and pulled his hand out from under his pillow, a dagger in his hand and pressed to the hollow of the cadet's throat. Virgil hissed—actually hissed out loud—and backpedaled, his own dagger dragging a thin line against the side of Roman's throat.

“OW! You venomous little shit!” he spat, touching his bleeding neck as he blinked against the onslaught of light.

His hand was jerked away, and cool fingers probed his throat with deft, clinical precision. Abruptly, his head grew foggy with something akin to sleep, but cold and light...Logan's magic working, taking control of him again.

“Relax—I'm not taking your mind, I'm healing you.”

“You're what?! Logan, you're a Weaver! You can't heal!”

Roman had to work at it a little, but his free hand lifted to rub his eyes. When he let it fall again, he had Logan sitting on the edge of his bed, hand pressed to his chest just below his collarbone, eyes lit up with that dazzling blue-white, misty light again.

“Apparently, I can when I'm animating someone.” Logan pointed out, lifting his hand and running it along Roman's throat. The touch, with Logan so close, raised gooseflesh on his skin—and there was a lot of it, given Roman slept only in loose trousers and nothing else.

Virgil leaned in as he sheathed his dagger, his eyes going wide. “Ohhhhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit...”

Roman reached up, following the trail Logan's palm had taken—and found no trace of the wound. Not even a scar remained.

What troubled him was that Virgil was right. It wasn't something Roman was allowed to know, something he couldn't glean from the things he read in secret or the tidbits Remus shared from his Anima lovers...and he couldn't communicate how he knew.

Logan looked at Virgil pointedly over his shoulder, then turned back to Roman when his brother fell silent again.

“I apologize for the unexpected arrival, but Virgil insisted on secrecy once he realized he'd been exposed.”

“E-exposed?” Roman stammered, his head still spinning with surprise, the lingering effects of Logan's power, and very genuine confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” Virgil snapped, folding his arms. “You knew who I was before Master Picani felt my connection to Logan and outed me in the war room. That's how I got in, and with a shard of Necromatic magic hidden in a healing object, no less.”

Roman felt his blood run cold, and in a manner that was anything but light or misty like Logan's magic.

“Don't deny it: I asked around after Logan got back to Patton this evening. You personally cleared me when I applied to join the guard. Pair that with the fact that Logan remembers the night he was arrested? And you're lucky he stopped me from killing you.”

The world stopped turning in that instant. Everything came to a halt, from the spinning of the earth to the beating of his heart as he met Logan's eyes—those crystal blue depths that he barely kept at bay, the swirling tempest that he restrained for ten years...

Roman balled his hands into fists and tried to remember how to breathe again around the nameless emotion trying to claw its way out of his heart.

“You...remember me, Logan?”

Logan just stared at him, features inscrutable. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed—he was thinking, he was...uncertain.

“I was half conscious in the war room.” he finally replied. “The Spider's Thread—Virgil told me what that oath references. I...I don't remember you, but I feel certain you swore that oath for a reason.”

The nameless feeling in his heart grew claws, ripped and tore and drew blood.

“I did.”

“...how long have we known each other?”

“Ten years. Since the night we met in the dungeon.”

“And in total?”

Roman shut his eyes, bowing his head to avoid that look, those eyes that would unmake him.

“...thirteen. We've known each other for thirteen years.”

#necromancer au #sanders sides #fanfic #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #logince #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders

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max-is-tired · 4 years

Text

On Top Of The World (On Top Of It All)

Pairing: Analoceit

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Character Thomas (mentioned)

Words: 4.365

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit & Remus, swearing, kissing, one very light innuendo and light graphic talk by Remus, there’s a fight but the characters have agreed to it and no one gets hurt

Notes: Let’s start with a big round of applause for my amazing boyfriend @afulldeckofaces who commissioned this big boy -he asked for pining Loceit and Confident Virgil, and who am I to deny these two beautiful concepts?

Writing this was so much fun, and I hope you guys will love it at least as much as I enjoyed working on it!!!!

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!!

When Logan and Deceit initially got together, it really hadn’t been a surprise to anyone -apart from maybe Thomas, but he had since stopped questioning most of the things that went down in his mind. So when they told him he simply blinked, shrugged in that specific way people do when they are way too tired to try and actually think about whatever the hell is going on and smiled at the way his two sides leaned on each other, genuinely happy for them.

Point was, everyone had seen it coming, recognized their hopeless pining for what it was despite the two sides’ vehement denial (“denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, dude”) and collectively breathed a sigh of relief when the two finally got their heads out of their asses and actually talked about their feelings for once in their life.

(Roman was just a tad bitter that both Deceit and Logan had refused to see reason for so long despite his best efforts to act as the perfect Cupid he was, and also that Remus had only won their little bet because gay panic was one hell of a way to make Deceit blurt out the truth. So what?)

What no one had exactly seen coming -apart from Remus because he was Deceit’s go-to when he needed to ramble/vent about something and therefore was aware of most things regarding his love life before anyone else, mostly to his brother’s dismay- was the small, minuscule crush the two were starting to develop on Virgil.

Which really, could you blame them? He was calm, snarky, and if Logan had to be honest, he had been harboring a tiny, infinitesimal infatuation for the anxious side since the time they had their first debate, back in the mindscape’s palace when Thomas had been dealing with cognitive distortions.

(For Dee, it was more complicated, having had feelings for Virgil since before their falling out only to feel them rekindle once they had started to grow closer again, side to side with the burning flame that were his feelings for Logan. Accepting that those feelings were still a thing had been an ordeal, to say the least, but having Logan at his side as they worked on figuring it out had helped immensely.)

So yeah, both Deceit and Logan were kind of crushing on Virgil. But that didn’t mean they were going to act on it, despite Remus’ constant suggestions that they should “try and tap that booty.” After all, it’s not like Virgil would be interested, and the feelings were completely, one hundred percent manageable.

Right?

(Spoiler alert: they were wrong. So, so wrong.)

+++

It all started one particular afternoon, when Roman barged into the living room with a very worried look on his face.

“Please tell me someone has seen Remus at least once since this morning,” he questioned immediately, his gaze traveling from the kitchen, where Patton was currently backing some cookies, and the couch, from where Logan and Deceit were staring back at him with twin looks of both confusion and annoyance.

If Roman had to be honest, it was kind of creepy to see, and he was the one with an actual twin.

“I can’t say we have,” Logan finally answered, looking about ready to go back to his book.

“Neither have I, sorry Ro,” Patton called from the kitchen doorway, looking at him with a worried frown. “Why, did something happen?”

“No, but it might soon,” Roman answered, looking more troubled by the second. “Last time I saw him, he said he was going to the Imagination to work on a project. I have no idea what he’s working on, but the last time he spent this much time holed up there he ended up setting loose an entire army of bright green rats while proclaiming himself their Rat King, so I think you can guess why I’m a tiny bit worried right now.”

Deceit sighed, sharing a glance with Logan before turning towards the prince.

“I guess I’ll go check on him,” he said, standing up.

Logan gave him one look and immediately stood up himself, settling his book on the coffee table as he readjusted his tie.

“I’m coming with you. If he really has something planned, I might be able to help you reign him in.”

“Sounds good,” Deceit nodded, giving his boyfriend a small smile before taking his hand and turning towards Roman. “The Imagination, you said?”

Roman gave them a nod, while Patton looked at them in worry.

“Be careful, alright?” he called after them, watching as the two sunk out of the room.

Then, Roman seemed to realize something, turning towards Patton with a confused frown.

“Wait, where’s Virgil?”

+++

Between all the sides, Deceit, Virgil and Roman were the only ones who had actually set foot in Remus’ side of the Imagination before.

Over the years, the view had never changed much. A dark, ominous forest. Creatures that looked normal but not quite. A night that never ends, with a blood-red moon as the only companion. A tall, far-away tower, always visible in the distance but never seeming to grow closer.

This time, however, when Deceit rose up with Logan’s hand held tightly in his, the world around them was completely different. They were standing in what appeared to be a big, unassuming square circled by various buildings, the fumes and smells associated with cities surrounding them even without any people or cars passing by.

It was eerily silent, and Deceit didn’t like it one bit.

“I thought Remus’ domain would bear more similarities with Roman’s fantastical kingdom,” Logan commented, looking around with a hint of curiosity.

“It usually does, even if leaning much more on the ‘scary forest where literally everything could kill you’ side of the spectrum,” Deceit answered, studying their surroundings with much more suspicion. “In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never changed the landscape on his side of the Imagination.”

“Oh please, I’ve done it plenty of times,” a very familiar voice suddenly called from above their heads, “just never when you were around!”

Deceit and Logan looked up, trying to spot the source of the voice. Remus grinned back at them, hanging upside-down from what appeared to be-

“Wait, is that the floating cloud from Dragon Ball?” Deceit asked, staring in confusion at the cloud Remus seemed to be sitting on.

“Hell yeah! Do you like it?”

“... I’m almost afraid to ask this, but is there a reason it’s pitch back instead of the original white or is it just for the aesthetic?”

Remus wiggled his mustache, obviously excited by Deceit’s question in a way that made the side immediately regret ever speaking in the first place.

“White is overrated, and also this one can shoot lightning bolts!”

As if to demonstrate Remus’ words, the cloud immediately started crackling with energy, lightning zipping through the air and hitting the ground on the other side of the square.

“Woohoo!” Remus cheered, cackling like a madman at his own destruction.

As for Deceit, he fought to keep his expression neutral, squeezing Logan’s hand once it looked like his boyfriend was about to go try and investigate.

Logan rolled his eyes but relented, keeping his curiosity in check. For now, at least.

“Care to explain why exactly you changed the scenery, then?” Deceit asked, “I didn’t peg you for the city type.”

“Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for Virgil!” Remus grinned, straightening upon his personal cloud and snickering at the two sides’ growing confusion.

“Come on up, I’ll show you,” he offered, guiding the cloud down to give the two a chance to safely board.

Logan didn’t need to hear it twice, immediately mounting on the floating and very solid cloud -his boyfriend was a little more cautious, having had to deal with a lot of surprise features in Remus’ creations.

“Up we go!” Remus cheered, and suddenly the cloud was rising into the sky, making both Deceit and Logan hold on for dear life.

“Remus, where the hell are you taking us?!” Deceit frantically asked, watching the ground get farther and farther away.

Remus simply answered by gesturing excitedly to a nearby building, bringing their attention to a very familiar purple shape standing on a rooftop.

“Is that Virgil?” Deceit asked, squinting, “wait, what is he-”

Before he could finish his question, Deceit watched in horror as Virgil suddenly started sprinting towards the edge of the rooftop, feeling Logan stiffen at his side as he opened his mouth to shout something, anything that would stop the anxious side before it was too late.

But then, he felt his cry die on his lips as he watched with wide eyes Virgil leap gracefully from one rooftop to the next, rolling and leaping to his feet with the grace and flexibility of someone who has done this over and over.

“Oh my god,” Deceit whispered, feeling Logan peer down from beside him as they watched Virgil leap and jump from building to building with whoops and cheers of joy and the biggest smile anyone had ever seen on his face.

“He’s beautiful,” Logan murmured, attracting Deceit’s gaze on himself -he was staring at Virgil with wide eyes, a soft blush covering his cheeks and his eyes twinkling in a way Deceit had ever witnessed only when Logan was either talking or looking at the stars.

“He is,” he hummed in agreement, feeling a small, soft smile stretch on his face despite his best efforts to fight it down.

Behind them, Remus giggled in obvious delight as he watched the two become more and more smitten by the second.

“He’s been asking to use my part of the Imagination to practice for years now!” he chirped in explanation, “he does this once or twice a week, and in exchange, he gives me pointers on how to be that flexible.”

He grabbed his foot from behind and easily raised it to rest on his shoulder as a demonstration, wiggling his mustache throughout the entire process.

“There was no need to show us, Remus,” Deceit grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Logan kept staring, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as Remus wiggled his foot at him.

“Are you implying that Virgil might be as flexible as that?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s much more flexible than me,” Remus shrugged, letting his foot fall back down, “seriously, sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he actually has a backbone or not. Wait, do you think I could get more flexible if I got my backbone out?”

“I do not advise trying, no,” Logan chided half-heartedly, blinking at the creative side as he tried to process his words.

“Oh god, I’m going to die,” Deceit muttered, hiding his flaming face in his hands as images of Virgil showcasing his… flexible abilities filled his brain.

Remus started cackling at their expressions, rolling around the cloud while clutching his stomach.

Ignoring him, Deceit and Logan exchanged a flustered glance, before turning around to stare at Virgil’s figure still bolting and jumping around the buildings under them.

It looked like this crush of theirs was not going away as quickly as they’d hoped, was it?

+++

Okay so, Virgil was flexible and apparently did weekly parkours over city landscapes Remus conjured just for him. So? Logan and Deceit could still deal with that and manage not to die of gay at the mere thought of just how agile and flexible their crush was.

Then, Roman decided it would be a good idea to challenge Virgil to a duel.

Granted, the proposal was meant mostly as a joke, a direct answer to Virgil threatening to kick Roman’s ass if he didn’t stop singing random Disney songs at full volume as everyone tried to relax.

But Virgil had easily accepted it, surprising literally everyone in the room as Roman looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

“What, Princey?” Virgil had asked, a lopsided grin stretching on his face, “scared you’re gonna lose to little old me?”

And so there they were, Roman and Virgil standing at the opposing sides of the arena the creative side had conjured while the others watched on from the sidelines -Patton had been very worried initially, but both sides had assured him that one, none of them were planning to injure badly the other and two, no sharp weapons would be used, so the father figure had eventually relented and followed the others on the stands.

“Who do you think will win?” Patton asked as he sat down, fidgeting with his cardigan.

“While I cannot deny that Virgil’s fight or flight instincts will probably be helpful in such a fight-” Logan started, looking at the two sides standing in the arena with twin wooden staffs in their hands- “his opponent is far more experienced than him in these kinds of things. Therefore, I suppose Roman will come out as the winner.”

Deceit nodded in agreement, wondering why Virgil had thought accepting this duel would be a good idea. Sure, the guy knew how to pack a punch -Deceit had found that out the hard way when he’d accidentally startled the anxious side during one of his panic attacks- but Roman quite literally fought bandits and Dragon Witches for fun. He obviously had the upper hand.

Remus watched the two sides lean forward, fighting down a snicker as his mind traveled to the numerous sparring match he’d had with Virgil when they both needed to let out steam.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

As if reading his mind, Roman suddenly bolted forward, staff held securely in his left hand as he prepared to strike down on his opponent. Quicker than anyone could see him, Virgil rolled to the side, easily avoiding Roman’s blow as he immediately leaped to his feet.

The fanciful side didn’t seem to be deterred by Virgil’s obvious agility, turning around to strike again and again with a type of ease only an experienced fighter can hope to achieve.

They went on like this for a while, with Roman delivering one strike after another and Virgil parrying and dodging every single hit, eyes reduced to slits as he focused on his opponent’s movements and nothing else.

As they watched, everyone had slowly started scooting forward in their seats, no more words being shared as they observed the two sides meeting and clashing only to pull away again. It almost looked like a graceful dance following a song only they could hear, their bodies moving in tandem as they both fought for the upper hand.

Then, Deceit felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up to attention, almost on instinct squeezing Logan’s hand as he leaned forward in sudden anticipation. He didn’t know why, but he felt as if something was going to happen very soon, and he did not want to miss it.

As if on command, Roman moved to attack once again, and a grin suddenly appeared on Virgil’s lips. Without missing a beat, the anxious side moved his body just a little to the left, hitting the inside of Roman’s arm with his staff as he slipped his foot just behind the other’s and kicked his legs off from under him.

Roman let go of his weapon with a pained yelp, falling flat on his ass as his balance was so suddenly thrown out from under him. Cursing under his breath, he started to reach for his fallen weapon only to find himself face to face with Virgil’s staff, hovering just in front of his face and blocking his movements.

“I don’t think so, Princey,” Virgil chuckled, giving him his signature lopsided smile as he slipped his weapon to tilt the creative side’s chin up.

“I’d say I won, don’t you agree?”

Roman gulped, looking up at him with wide eyes before answering with a small, trembling nod.

The sides sitting on the stands weren’t fairing much better, staring in absolute disbelief as the arena slowly disappeared from around them and Virgil helped Roman up -at least, everyone but Remus, who was too busy cackling his ass off at their surprise to care much about anything else right now.

“You guys were incredible!” Patton cheered, bolting forward to drag the two panting sides in a hug.

“Thanks, Padre,” Roman laughed, returning the hug as best as he could, “I was not expecting out resident emo to be such a valiant foe, but I’m positive a rematch will set the results right.”

Virgil snorted, patting Patton’s back with one hand as he arched his eyebrows at Roman.

“I’m down to beating your ass again anytime you want, Princey,” he teased, a shit-eating grin tugging at his lips as Roman let out his certified Offended Princey Noises™.

Patton gasped, turning his head around to stare at Virgil.

“Vee, language!”

“Sorry, Pat.”

Logan and Deceit watched over the scene from the sidelines, still trying to recover from what they had just witnessed.

“Uh, Virgil, if I may-” Logan called, attracting the side’s attention to himself as he nervously adjusted his tie- “where did you learn to fight like that?”

That was… something Deceit really wanted to know too, if he had to be honest.

Virgil shrugged, gently pulling away from Patton’s hug to properly look at them.

“I just… always knew how, I guess? Being fight or flight and all that,” he answered, looking at the two sides with the same lopsided smile he’d been sporting while tilting Roman’s chin up with his staff and-

Yup, it was official. Logan and Deceit were way too gay to deal with this shit.

+++

After that, it didn’t take long for things to finally come to a head.

It was a series of episodes, piling up one after another as Logan and Deceit fought more and more to frantically keep their crush in check.

A perfect example was that one time Roman somehow convinced all of them to join him in a quest, something he’d never quite managed before.

After crossing the entrance to the Imagination, all of them had found themselves wearing clothes that were starkly different from the ones they’d had had on a few seconds before.

Namely, Deceit’s robe now had much more flair to it, a wizard staff suddenly clutched in his hand as a long, black cloak with his symbol stitched on it hung loosely around his body.

Deceit hummed as he took in his new attire, feeling the weight of a sword hanging from his side as he begrudgingly had to admit that Roman hadn’t done a half-bad job with their clothes -something he remarked with stark clarity as he took in Logan’s much more practical shirt, jacket and pants that hung in a very flattering way on his lean figure.

Then, Deceit made the mistake to let his gaze move towards Virgil and all coherent thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt.

Virgil was wearing what looked like ranger robes, the dark hood of his battered cloak shadowing half of his face as the anxious side examined the slick bow he was now holding in his hands. Hidden under the cloak, Deceit could see the metallic glint of a black armor protecting Virgil’s body, the hilt of a sword peeking out from one of his sides.

In the back of his head, Deceit found himself thinking that maybe, Roman always calling Virgil their Dark and Stormy Knight was more accurate than they’d previously accounted for.

Taken as he was in admiring Virgil’s new outfit, Deceit failed to notice the way the others were getting ready to start their journey, slowly advancing down the path in front of them. He only noticed when Virgil shot him a strange look, arching his eyebrows as if silently asking if everything was alright.

Fighting down the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks, Deceit gave a terse nod, hurrying to catch up with the others before they noticed. In his hurry, though, the deceitful side failed to pay attention to his own cloak, now reaching to his feet instead of just covering his shoulders. As one might expect, he ended up tripping on it, a small curse already on the tip of his tongue as he flailed his arms around to hopelessly try and stop his fall.

Deceit closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, preparing himself to a relatively painful meeting with the ground -only to feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around his waist, stopping his fall midway through.

“Dude, you okay?” Virgil asked, looking torn between worry and amusement as he held the other side close to his chest.

Deceit blinked, looking at him with obvious surprise in his eyes as he took in their sudden vicinity. Then, he grumbled something under his breath, pushing at Virgil’s chest until he was finally free from his hold and stalking forward with the anxious side’s low chuckle trailing behind him.

And if the blush on his cheeks was due to more than simple embarrassment, well, that was nobody’s business but Deceit’s.

Logan’s turn to become a flustered mess had come not even a week later, as he walked down the hallway with a book in his hands and everything in his mind but looking where he was going.

All the warning he got was the sound of quickly approaching footsteps, followed by someone cursing under their breath and a hand suddenly wrapping around his forearm.

Before he knew it, Logan had his back pressed against the wall, a very familiar purple shirt filling his vision as he heard two sets of pounding footsteps bolt down the corridor and Remus’ cackling laughter fill the air.

Once the two brothers were finally far enough for them to be able to safely move, Virgil pulled back, letting out a sigh of relief as he rested his hands on the sides of Logan’s head.

“Thank god,” he muttered, glaring towards the direction the twins had disappeared in, “I was almost sure they were going to run you over without a care in the world.”

Then, he looked down, finally noticing the stunned expression on Logan’s face as he held his book limply in his hands.

“Uh,” he muttered, frowning, “L, you good? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Logan shook his head, looking to the side with splotches of red covering his cheeks.

“No, I am-” he cleared his throat, raising one hand to nervously adjust his tie as he tried to look everywhere but in Virgil’s eyes, “I can assure you, I am perfectly fine.

“Are you sure? Wait-” Virgil squinted at him, leaning forward to take in his red cheeks and suspicious behavior- “Lo, are you sick and trying to hide it again?”

“Oh, would you look at the time!” Logan suddenly exclaimed, looking redder by the second as he slipped away from under Virgil’s arms, “I would love to chat some more but I have some important work that needs to be done, goodbye Virgil.”

“Logan, wait-”

Nope, too late, the logical side had already sunk out of the corridor, probably to hide in his room. Virgil sighed, dragging one hand down his face.

Well, it looked like he was going to need to sick Patton on him and hope for the best.

+++

Their final showdown, so to speak, went down during an inconspicuous afternoon, with Deceit and Logan hanging out in the deceitful side’s room. The two were curled on the bed, having initially planned to take a nap only to end up doing what seemed to have become their favorite past time as of late: gushing about Virgil.

“That raccoon has no right being as hot as he is, I swear,” Deceit grumbled, hiding his face in Logan’s chest.

“I know, dear,” Logan hummed, stroking his back. “Virgil is… very aesthetically attractive, and our debates are always great fun.”

“Nerd,” Deceit snorted, looking up at his boyfriend with a small smile. “Do you think he might feel the same?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Logan admitted, a pensive frown on his face. “I do hope so, that’s for sure. Having him as our boyfriend would be… nothing short of wondrous, I suppose.”

“Then why don’t you just ask me?” came a very familiar voice, startling Deceit off of Logan’s chest as the two sides whipped their heads around.

Virgil stared back at them with his usual lopsided smile, leaning on the doorway as he looked at them in clear amusement.

“You guys forgot to lock the door,” he explained.

“Ah,” Logan said, cheeks turning redder by the second as he kept his eyes trained on Virgil.

“You know,” Virgil started, walking deeper into the room as he kicked the door closed behind himself, “I couldn’t help but notice how strangely you’ve both been actin, lately. So I thought I’d come to talk to you guys about it, you know?”

“I go to Logan’s room, but you guys are not there. No big deal, if you weren’t in one room then the other would probably be the correct one. Imagine my surprise as I stand in front of Deceit’s room, seeing it half open as I prepare to knock, only to hear you guys say my name.”

“How-” Deceit cleared his throat, trying to fight down the red staining his cheeks. “How much have you heard?”

“Enough,” Virgil shrugged. “So, are you going to ask me or what?”

Silence fell as Logan and Deceit looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation before Logan reached to squeeze Deceit’s hand and took a deep breath.

“Virgil, we were wondering if you would… be amenable to the idea of joining our relationship?”

Virgil’s grin widened considerably, a laugh escaping his mouth as he quickly erased the few feet left between him and the two sides and leaned forward, kissing them both silly.

“I would very, very much enjoy that, you dorks.”

(From just outside the door, Remus let out a silent cheer, shimming in place before bolting towards his brother’s room. He had ten hard-earned bucks and a victory to rub on Roman’s face waiting just for him, after all.)

#sanders sides #analoceit #virgil sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #patton sanders #analoceit fluff #swearing #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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crypticalwitch · 4 years

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A Halloween night! Bloody Code Au (Part 1)

Ok, this is crossposted (i really hope im using it right) to my wattpad, but there its a songfic to Victorious by Panic! at the Disco, but i removed that here, because i liked it alot. also this is a cliff hanger that i will update to add the link to the second one later. Also some bad language, booze and blood and vomit. not graphic or anything, just wanted to mention!

Part 1/ Part 2

Grian smiled. Halloween was always one of his favorite holidays, since it was excuse to cause trouble, and a halloween party at a night club was definitely going to be fun. The costume He and Scar chose was also very fun. While most might have just bought something, they had two advantages over everyone else, 1) Demise ment they had the best ghost costumes, with little to no make up, only using it to bright colour to scar tissue, which is why the pair were grayscale while walking down the road, and 2)Vex and Fairy, enough said.

And so Grian and Scar walked down the road toward the club. Grian had brought his vex mask, while Scar had made sure to have small stash of regen potions incase someone over did it on the drinks.

“SCAR GRIAN!” Rens familiar voice called out from down the road. Grian began to run closer, Scar on his heels.

“HI REN!” Grian yelled. Ren was dressed up a stereotypical wolf man, though he only had the wolf ears,tail and clawed gloves.

“Ready Scar?” Ren asked, jumping up and down slightly.

“You know it!” Scar smiled, “Cub already inside right?”

“Yup!” Ren cocked his head to the side. “What are you guys dressed up as?”

Grian smirked.

“Were Dead!” Scar giggled

“OH!” ren seemed to notice the grey skin, the X-ed out eyes, and the scars. The outline of grains skeleton was highlighted, and scars lips and hands were a pale yellow-green.

“Well, lets go!” grian said, his impatience beginning to show.

“Yeah!” Ren smiled and began to pull the pair to the entrance.

The club was bright, loud, and chaotic, in a very different way than Hermitcraft, and Scar wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Grian seemed to enjoy the loud music and immediately went off to the dance floor after seeing Iskall, who was dressed up as a mad scientist.

Scar met up with cub, who was dressed up as a vampire, and got a comfortable seat close enough to the bar and the dancefloor, but wasn’t two crazy.

Things were fine at first. None of the group really drank too hard, and Scar even went out to dance with grian for a while. And then the coughing started.

It was only a small cough at first, occasional and something he could ignore. And then he coughed something up. A very familiar taste, the taste that ended his Demise run. He grabbed a napkin and spit it out, the pale yellow color staining the paper.

Grian was in a similar boat. The scars from the blast always itched slightly, even when he was alive, but at some point in the night, the scars began to inch and ache like crazy. It wasn’t until he rubbed one of the markings and his hand came away bloody that he realise something might be wrong.

Scar ended up in the bathroom, Grian at his side, Coughing and retching up poison and blood while Grian slowly dripped blood from his arms and legs.

“Feeling better?” Grian asked, rubbing his boyfriends back.

“A little.” Scar smiled, pulling back from the toilet “has the bleeding slowed any?”

“Yeah, its done I think.” Grian giggled, “Could you imagine if someone saw us?”

“In the same bathroom stall? Or coughing up blood and poison?”

“Yes.”

“Grian that makes no sense!” Scar laughed,

“Ready to head back out?” Grian smiled, wiping the blood from his hands off on toilet paper.

“Yeah,” Scar smiled. “I think so!”

Grian and Scar slid out of the stall, right into a very confused Ren standing in the doorway.

“REN!” Grian blushed

“Uuhhh how long have you been standing there?” Scar asked, blushing under the grey.

“Long enough to know you two were in the same stall, but not long enough to know why!” Ren said, followed by an awkward laugh.

“Really nothings happening.” grian began to spitball. “Its all fine. Nothings happening. Everything's FINE.” Scar facepalmed.

“We’ll explain later.” Scar smiled, “But not right now.”

“I guess thats fair my dudes.” ren smiled.

“Im just gonna,leave.” Grian carefully moved past ren, and entered back onto the dance floor.

Grian almost didn't notice the man dressed up as the grim reaper among the sea of costumes, but the reaper certainly noticed him. When grian got a drink, the man watched from a corner of the dance floor. When grian joined up with iskall on the Dancefloor, the man watched from the corner of grian’s eye.

“YOU!” he shouted, his voice gravely, as if he had been decomposing.

“Me?” Grian felt his face go warm.

The man stepped closer, and drew a scythe from his long tattered cloak. He growled, “You…”

Grian was finally able to get a good look at him.

“Grimdog?” grains stomach flip flopped over and over again.

“Hehe” He nervously chuckled as the reaper apoached, flipping the sythe expertly around, so that the point was up, and placed it to Grian’s neck. “No hard feelings, remember ol’ buddy?”

The reaper growled.

Grimdog removed the point from Grian throat, before giving it a hefty swing into grian’s torso area. Grian lept back, the bone blade only landing a light scratch across Grian’s chest.

“Ok, got it, hard feelings.” grian joked, before pulling his mask off its chain. “If its a fight you want Grimdog,” Grian smiled, placing the mask on his face. “Then its a fight you’ll get.” Grian shouted voice took on an echoy quality,like many hims speaking at once.

Across the club, Scar, Cub, Iskall and Ren hear this, though only one recognised Grian’s voice.

“Oh no…” Scar murmured into his drink, non alcoholic as usual.

“Has someone already started a fight?” Iskall swirled his glass while he leaned back in his chair.

“Sounds like it.” cub smiled, slightly buzzed, “Wonder whats it over.”

“Somthin dumb probably.” Ren said. “Scar are you ok? You look nervous.”

“IIIIIII, recognise that voice…” Scar said, nervously drawing out his words. “And if im right….”

“...WE should probably leave the building.”

“What?” Iskall sat up in his seat properly. “Why?”

“Cause if he’s any sort of involved with a fight…” Scar blushed as Grian-vex cackled along with the clang of bone and metal. People began to rush towards the exits “Shits about to hit the fan.”

The table stared for a moment, suddenly serious.

“Welp.” Cub stood up, putting on his cheep vampire cape, “Scar swore, The sky is Green, Grass is blue, and i'm getting the hell out of dodge.”

“Ditto.”

“Right behind ya.”

The four only got a few blocks down the road when the sound of bricks exploding echoed through the streets.

“SCATTER!” Scar screamed, Cub and Iskall began running down alleys as Ren and Scar continued running the main streets.

“OH COME ON GRIM!” the voice laughed. “I thought you’d be better at using that thing!”

“really?” scar muttered, “taunt the reaper huh?”

“Is this guy really brave or really stupid?”

Scar rolled his eyes. “Both.”

“Oof”

The fight had made it to the pair, and scar pulled ren into an alleyway. Giving ren the first view of this mysterious man.

The man’s skin was a pale grey-blue color. His dark hair had many curls were supernaturally sharp, a look that didn't sit right with Ren. His eyes and mouth didn't help. Both were glowing white-blue, his eyes eerily pupiless and his mouth filled with sharp teeth, pulled into a frustrated and menacing smile. Behind him, a pair of white wings glowed, and in his hand, a loosely held an axe.

The Reaper, if he even was human, was worse though. His eyes were pitch black, and everything about was salow and decayed, like he had just risen from the grave. He was covered with a swirling cloak, and carried a large scythe that appeared to be the jaw bone of some large animal.

Ren looked up at Scar. Scar watched the battle with an nervous air. The pair were stuck. Ren didn’t know who to hope for. The Reaper with the Scythe or the Spirit with an Axe.

“I-swear-if-i-die-dressed-as-the-world-most-effort-put-into-bad-halloween-costume-i'm-going-to-haunt-someone.” he whispered, semi-serious.

The reaper and Spirt help up their weapons and charged at each other.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #bloody code #Grian #Rendog #GoodTimesWithScar #iskall85 #cubfan135 #though their not really important #just kinda there #writting #im kinda proud!#those are a lot of words!#plus #plot!

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duskowithapen · 4 years

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Day Four: Long Distance Relationship

Writer’s Month 2020

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Kagami x Marinette

Across the Oceans, I Still See You

Kagami and Marinette didn’t exactly have a conventional relationship after leaving university. Their chosen professions seemed to lead them in opposite directions – much to their friends and family’s dismay. After all, how can you maintain a relationship with someone you rarely see?

Alya looked mournfully at her bestie. “I kinda feel sorry for you Marinette. With you and Kagami flying around the world every week, it’s like you guys never have the chance to just exist together – not like how Nino and I can. You guys don’t get that closeness.”

Marinette let her pencil slow over her sketchbook, attention grabbed by the screen across from her. Kagami was rambling – as much as she could ramble – about her day while she went through her work out routine. The fencer was at their apartment in Kyoto, and she was taking advantage of the private gym. Marinette couldn’t help but take in the view.

Floor to ceiling windows let in the summer sun, and it glinted off the sweat dotting Kagami’s arms and face. She had just finished her warmup routine and was going through an all body workout – mountain climbers, push ups, step ups, lunges, chest presses and arm curls. In between breaths she described the dress she saw at dinner with her mother. “It was an affront on the senses, koishii. The fabric was clearly cheap, the beadwork was shoddy, and the style was one I do not believe even you could make look good. Why people decide to show off every line and curve of their body within skin-tight polyester silk, I do not know, but I would prefer it if they did it far way from me. Wouldn’t you agree tentou-mushi?”

When Marinette didn’t reply, she held her push up at the lowest point and looked towards the camera. “Nette-chan? Is everything alright?”

Marinette blushed and looked away. “Sorry, yes, I agree, polyester silk should be banned from being used for anything but bag linings, you’re absolutely correct, I pity you for having to witness that.” This was all said in one breath, and she winced.

Sure enough, when she looked up, Kagami had come closer. “Were you distracted, mon chérie?”

With a huff, Marinette went back to her designs. “What do you expect when you look like that?”

“It’s alright Nette-chan. I watch you too,” Kagami winked. She had obviously been spending too much time around Adrien. “You get the most adorable wrinkles when you’re concentrating.”

That drew a giggle from Marinette, who turned to wink back at the camera. “Can’t wait till next week mon vouivre. Then we can get hot and sweaty together.”

That made Kagami, infamous ice queen, blush to the roots of her hair.

“How do you keep the romance alive Kagami?” Adrien asked over his hot chocolate – poor sunshine child had never quite gotten the taste for coffee. “It’s not like you can surprise Marinette with a romantic walk through the cherry blossom trees or have a picnic at the Eiffel tower if you guys aren’t in the same country.”

The video call clicked through to the view of dozens of small pale pink blooms. After a moment, they shook.

“What are these?!” Came Marinette’s unimpressed voice. The blossoms moved to show Marinette’s flushed face.

“I believe they are cherry blossoms, koishii.” Kagami resembled a cat who’d gotten the cream, the canary, and was contemplating the fish in the bowl. “Surprised?”

“Surprised?” Marinette screeched. “Gami-chan, I have seven bouquets of flowers in my hotel room!” She moved the camera so Kagami could see the tiny desk. Sitting on the surface were seven red fluted vases, each filled with a different kind of flower. There were pale orchids, bright pink dahlias, deep red roses, large sunflowers, purple-pink peonies, and orange tulips. One of the vases was empty – it used to hold cherry blossoms.

“Exactly. Seven bouquets for our seventh anniversary.” Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that you forgot?”

“Of course I didn’t! Mon cher, you could have just gotten me seven flowers.” Marinette sat down on an armchair, jostling the camera before it came into focus on her face. “I’m gonna get you back for that.”

Kagami chuckled. “Of course you will koi.”

There was a knock.

“What is that?” She asked suspiciously.

Immediately, Marinette began to grin. “I believe someone is knocking at your door, my dearest Gami-chan. Perhaps you should go and answer it.”

Kagami was immediately suspicious. Leaving the phone propped up on a book so Marinette could see, she went and opened the door. There, she was met with the smiling face of Madame Dupain-Cheng.

“Hello, Kagami dear. Special delivery from Marinette!”

She slowly turned around. Marinette was cackling. “Enjoy your dinner mon vouivre!” She called before hanging up.

“That sneaky…” Kagami turned and smiled just a little awkwardly at her girlfriends’ mother. “Thank you very much for delivering this Madame Cheng.”

Her response was a careless wave and a more careful deposit of eight different boxes. “Please, call me Sabine dear. And I was happy too – Marinette was so excited when she made the order.”

The older woman let herself out while Kagami took the boxes to her table. There was a delivery box from their favourite restaurant – the same restaurant they went to on their first date. The other seven boxes each held a different kind of dessert – red and yellow macaroons, a cream filled chocolate éclair, strawberry filled dango, three red bean taiyaki, a large slice of opera cake topped with marzipan roses, a butterfly shaped palmier (or as Kagami knew them, genji pie) and in the largest box, a miniature croquembouche with black, red and gold glaze.

Kagami couldn’t help but laugh. She snapped a photo at the open boxes and texted it to Marinette: I believe you have ‘gotten me back good’. Have a wonderful anniversary koishii.

“Are you ever scared Marinette?” Juleka asked quietly. This was the first time she’d been away from Rose for an extended period of time. “Of Kagami finding someone different – someone she thinks is – is better?”

“Marinette, I believe I am going to stab someone. Please send bail money to the New York Police Department.”

“Who’s done what this time?” She laughed, zipping across the room on her chair to grab another bobbin.

“A particularly irritating competitor who will not be irritating anymore.”

“Gami-chan, you look horrid in orange. Think of what I will have to endure if you end up in prison!” Marinette quickly threaded her machine with ease of long practise and started pinning the shoulders of her most recent commission.

“If they do not find any evidence, I cannot be convicted.” Despite this, Kagami was finally sounding calmer.

“What did they do, mon cher?”

“I was… propositioned.” The fencer growled out. “Apparently because my girlfriend isn’t in the country, Madame Sebold believed I would be… amenable to an illicit… rendezvous in the changing rooms.” Kagami was breaking out the more formal vocabulary – she was clearly pissed.

Marinette’s hands froze over the pins. “I see.” She said quietly. “What exactly is this woman’s name?”

“You do not look good in orange either Nette-chan. The woman has been dealt with.”

“Are you okay Kagami? I don’t have my tablet for a proper video call, but I could use my phone?” She reached around the mound of fabric in preparation.

A laugh crackled through the phone. “No koishii, I have to go back out in a moment. I just wished to hear your voice.”

“Well then, listen all you want.” Marinette smiled softly. “I wish I was there though.”

“Oh? I do not believe Ladybug coming along and beating up an American fencer would be good press.”

“Ah, so she’s American.”

“Marinette.” Oops, that was Kagami’s no-nonsense tone. “I have handled things here. I do not want you to sully yourself dealing with such people. I assure you; Madame Sebold has been made well aware of her mistakes and thus shall not make them again.”

“Aww, mon vaillant vouivre.” Marinette cooed. “Were you protecting my honour?”

“A dragon always protects their hime.”

“So, Miss Tsurugi, as a fencing prodigy and candidate for the Tokyo Olympic Games, do you struggle with all the demands on your time? What does your girlfriend think of everything? I understand that she has similar time constraints – Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a rising star in the fashion world and regularly tours with Jagged Stone. Does this cause your relationship any strain?”

(“Good night mon cher.” Marinette said in the half-light, lying back on her bed half a world away.

“Sweet dream, koishii.”)

(Something to add to our holiday list! The text message came through at lunchtime, with a photo attached of Marinette pointing up at a sign for the Fushan Mountain in China and it’s hiking trails.)

(Kagami grinned softly at her propped phone. Marinette was waving her hands as she regaled her with the tale of a sneezing model and incorrectly placed flower beds. There was a plate of pizza before both of them.)

(Kagami started as her phone pinged just before her match. Opening it, she couldn’t help but smile. Have fun mon vouivre! Show them exactly why they should be afraid! The text was punctuated with red and yellow hearts, as well as a ladybug.)

“I love Marinette with all my heart. And I know she loves me. Distance can’t change that.”

Kagami’s eyes were immediately drawn to Marinette as she walked towards the baggage claim. Her left hand was sweaty around the bouquet – cherry blossoms and roses framed by vivid orange tulips. In her back pocket, she fingered a velvet box.

#marinette x kagami #miraculous ladybug #kagami tsuguri #marinette dupain cheng #ao3 #WritersMonth2020 #day four long distance relationship #four plus one #kinda

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

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Tough Competition

@shinsoubowl Week 2019 Day 2 (Prompt: Competition+”Is that really the best you got?”)

A/N: I had such a bad writer's block while writing this one. Thank god I managed to get it done.

Pairing: Shinsou HItoshi x reader

Description: Nothing like a bit of friendy rivalry to get the tension going and affection to blossom.

Word count: 3195

Playlist:

Make You Mine//PUBLIC

Waterloo//ABBA

I Hate Myself for Loving You//Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

If anything, you had enough self-awareness to admit that you were a ridiculously prideful person. So to see that damn smirk on your opponent’s face when your back hit the mat immediately sent a pang of bitterness straight to the back of your throat.

“Is that really the best you got?”

What a prick.

You groaned at the numbness on your back from the pain, “You have to rub it in, huh?”

Shinsou’s extended hand was left hanging as you got up and walked straight pass him, a hand on your back to ease the discomfort.

Now, before people started to assume things, you did not hate Shinsou. Not really, but you were a really bitter loser and you had never won in a spar against that kid. Never, not once since you started training with him under Aizawa’s instruction.

Perhaps it was the universe’s cue to keep your ego in check when you didn’t make it into Hero Studies in the first place.

To say that you were crushed would be an understatement. It was a reality check that you were, indeed, not as good as you thought you were. But you didn’t just give up, admitting that you failed in achieving your dream would be an even bigger blow to your pride. So you settled for what you could get in the time being and worked twice as hard as you used to, preparing for the day you could finally prove your worth.

You nearly cried in joy when they said that you would be trained to see if you were suitable for moving to Hero Studies next year.

You weren’t so excited to see another person there in the gym though.

Not only was Shinsou somewhat in competition with you for the same goal, he was also ridiculously good at it. He was very serious with the whole thing in the same way as you did which you respected but somehow, he seemed to find amusement in your frustration as much as you were frustrated by him.

“You know, if you stop being such a sore loser, we might actually get along.” you rolled your eyes as you heard his irritating voice when you were about to push open the door to the gym. Another day, another training section with the person who made you grit your teeth every time you talk to him.

You turned around with a glare and exaggeratingly shrugged, “Why are you so interested in getting along with me? As far as I’m concerned, being a lone wolf was your brand.”

You were expecting to see that smirk but you faced him to see that it had dropped. He looked almost sincere and the scrawl on your face went stiff. “Because it took me a while to see that pushing people away won’t get you far,” he said, “we’re actually pretty similar, you and I-”

“Let’s just go back to kicking each other’s ass, it’s more fun that way.” walking pass the door without sparing him another glance, you could hear the sigh from behind your back. If you had to receive a lecture on the importance of peer relationships with someone, it would be the least convincing to get it from Shinsou Hitoshi whose only interaction you had with was beating each other up.

Beads of sweat slid down your forehead as you blocked yet another hit from your opponent, finding the chance to strike back. The gym was filled with the sound of grunting and the squeaking of the hard wooden floor as the fight carried on with a feverish force. It was a level playing field, as much as you were worn out, the heavy breaths and the way his shirt stuck onto his body showed that Shinsou was not exactly having the easiest time fending you off.

You would never give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it out loud but it you were not the one on the receiving end of it, watching Shinsou fight was an enjoyment. It’s the way his body moved, every muscle working together in the swiftest motion and each move was so precise. When you saw him in the Sports Festival, you did not take him as the combat type of person but apparently the training did him well.

Sometimes, you weren’t sure if you could say the same for you.

You were immediately caught off guard when Shinsou decked and moved out of your view. Suddenly, there was a firm grip on your forearm that couldn’t pull back fast enough after your lunge.

Before you knew it, you crashed onto the ground and groaned when you heard the line that you were almost expecting to hear. “Is this really the best you got?”

You snapped your eyes open, disregarding the pain that wanted to force them shut out of instinct, and wanted to snarl at him with a comeback of your own. It took you by surprise when you felt a heavy weight on your shoulder and Shinsou’s face hovering right above yours. He was had both knees on your side, trapping you and keeping you on the floor.

“What the fuck? Get off me-”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Blood rushed to your face at the close proximity between you and him. You tried to ignore the fact that you could almost feel his shaky breath fanning your face as you retaliated, “Did you heard what you just said to me?”

“What is it about me that made you detest me so much?” his grip on your shoulder tightened slightly as he spoke, “You kept coming back at me with the same attitude when I had been trying to be nice to you. You ignored me when I walk past you in the halls. Look, if this is about what I say to you after we spur, I’m sorry but-”

“I don’t hate you!” you yelled and tried to get out of his grip, you were not ready to have this huge confrontation with him when you yourself had been refusing the mental debate in your head. Did you feel bad for treating him like that? Always, but your guilt was gone every time you felt the chilling wooden floor under your back as you heard his words rang in your ears. It reminded you of your own failure and although it wasn’t fair to blame it on someone who had no business with your own insecurities, you just couldn’t help it from letting your anger out. “I’m a sore loser, you said it yourself. The only reason I’m still here talking to you is because I had to unless I want to just hand away the only shot I have at doing what I want.”

His brows knitted together, a hint of hurt flashing through before a sharp look replaced it in his eyes, “Do you think it’s not the same for me? I could be doing something else that actually benefits me instead of bickering with you but I still tried anyways because I thought we could both use a friend!” He nearly shouted at you with the last sentence and you winced. He let go of yours shoulder and stood up, “But apparently, I was wrong.”

The cold tone in his voice made you shiver. You weren’t sure what that feeling was when you stared at the back view of him walking away, a loud thump from the door echoed in the empty gym as he left. You sat on the floor, still processing what just happened but failed to keep your mind straight at the weight from where he held you down ghosting on your shoulder and that disturbing feeling of the churn in your stomach distracting you.

“Hey! We’re going to this new cafe after school, wanna come?”

“Can’t,” you groaned as you turned down your friend, “had to train with that asshole again.”

Your friend snickered, “What’s going on between you and Shinsou?”

“There is no ‘me and Shinsou’, what are you talking about?” you raised a brow at your friend’s smug smile. You weren’t lying, ever since that day in the gym, he stopped trying to approach you like he did before and you obviously had no intention to reach out to him yourself. You still held on to your argument that you didn’t hate him but it seemed like you couldn’t quite say the same for him with the way he gave you a side eye each time you walked past him. Never one to back down, you would always return with an equally icy glare. Sparring did not go any differently, the two of you were more determined to beat each other than before after you got farther from being friends.

“Oh, please,” you rolled your eyes at their grin and the amused tone they were using, “everyone can feel the tension between you two.”

You let out a soft ‘tch’ in annoyance, “Because we both want to strangle each other?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep denying it,” they smirked, “but the way you two stared each other down? I’m more convinced that you both want to ravish the other person-”

“Ok, how about no?” you ignored their cackling as you swung you bag on your shoulders and made way to the door, “And if you use the word ‘ravish’ again, I will throw up on you.”

You were a prideful person and you knew it but there were times when holding up the wall that was your ego put too much strain on you. You could not take failure, you did not have to be the best at everything but you would not accept the torture that was being anything less than serviceable. It was mid-term season and you had not gotten enough sleep for at least a week. Your progress on hero training was everything but ideal with the standards you put on yourself and you were exhausted. Now that the week was over, there was nothing you wanted to do more than hiding in your dorm room and hibernate.

But no, you had to spend such a beautiful weekend doing extra training with the one person you did not want to see.

Shinsou could sense that something was wrong when you stormed into the gym without acknowledging his presence at all. Normally, there would be at least an eye roll or a glare but you did not even look at him as you threw your stuff down onto the side. Unlike your usual good posture, you shoulders were tensed up and he could almost see a slight hunch on your back. The bags under your eyes could almost rival his own.

“You looked like shit, where have you been?”

He was expecting a snarl and words caught in the back of his throat as he heard a sigh instead. You sounded so tired and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it. “Look, I really don’t have the energy for this today.” you ran a hand through your hair and tried to concentrate, “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

“Right.” he wasn’t sure it felt weird that you two weren’t bickering because he was always so annoyed by your snarky attitude but he pushed it to the back of his head as the two of you got into position.

Unlike most times, you didn’t strike the first move. It didn’t take a genius to see that your moves were way sloppier than usual. Shinsou had been spurring with you for long enough to see that you were not holding up with your standard performance. At certain moments, he was so sure that you were gonna lose balance and collapse.

“Stop, stop, stop.” you looked at him in confusion when he suddenly gripped your wrist, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” you asked in disbelief as you tried to break free of his grasp.

“I can’t fight you when you are like this.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks as you felt humiliation building up in you. He hadn’t let go of you and you yanked your hand away from him, “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you.” Shinsou sighed at how difficult you were being, “It’s gonna look bad on me if I win you when you look like you are about to pass out anyways. Let’s just call it quits, ok?”

If it was any times other than now, you would have yelled at him to not go soft on you and carry on with what you were doing. But right now, his offer sounded just a bit too tempting for your worn out self.

Shinsou wasn’t sure why he felt so relieved when you nodded and backed down, going to pack your things without much protest as he thought you would.

“Thanks.” you mumbled as you took the can of soda from his hand. Taking a large gulp, you let out a content sigh as the cold liquid brought you back to life.

You didn’t move away when Shinsou sat down next to you on the bench outside of the gym. He stared at the side of your face as while you lowered your head, your fingers tracing the rim of the can mindlessly. He had never looked at you properly until now, too busy either fighting you off or trying to keep up the part of an eager rival. With your eyes draping down and your lips pursing tightly together to form a frown, he was all too bothered by how distressed you looked for someone who was supposed to hate you.

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if I can convince myself that I’m good enough anymore.” you said with a forced chuckle and the pitiful sound made his heart ache.

“If you’re not good enough then what does that make me?”

You gave him a weak shrug, “Well, someone who could beat me every time, that I am sure of.”

You must be really beaten down to say it out loud. Shinsou furrowed his brows together as he thought hard on what he should say. He thought that he wanted you to admit that he was a worthy opponent but the fact that someone as prideful as you were was basically stepping on themselves, it left a really bad taste in his mouth. This was not like you and despite what you said basically acknowledging his own abilities, it made him feel terrible.

“Are you kidding me? Do you have no idea how much of a hard time you give me every damn time?”

You snorted at his attempt a cheering you up, the corner of his lips tugging upwards as he saw the small smile on your face. “Right.”

“So stop putting yourself down because you’re insulting me in the process.” you gave him a soft swat on the arm as he grinned, “Whatever is bothering you right now, please pull through. I want my tough competition back.”

“God, you are so infuriating!” you laughed and shook your head. Tapping the side of the cold aluminum, you stayed silent for a while before turning to him. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Shinsou said in amusement at your attempt to lower your pride. You looked almost flustered just saying that and it was adorable to see you let your guard down around him for once.

For a while, you two just sat there without saying a word. The silence was comforting, something you never expected to feel around Shinsou. As the sun slowly descended, everything was tinted with the golden light and the warmth on your skin reminded you of the comfort of being surrounded by blankets on your own bed.

“I think I should go.” you stood up and turned to face him with you back towards the sunlight. Shinsou could feel the flush on his face and he wasn’t sure if it was the sun or the genuine grin you had on your face that gave him the warmth on his cheeks. “Next time, I’m not losing again.”

He got up and looked at you straight in the eyes, looking more delighted than he was competitive. “We’ll see about that.”

Shinsou was caught off guard when you smiled at him as you entered the gym, not that he was complaining. “Ready to get beaten up?”

“Say that to yourself.”

You two had spurred for countless of times but somehow it felt different this time round. Something clicked and the two of you were more aggressive and less calculated with your moves. Both of you were set to win and you must have snapped out of that bad headspace you were in because Shinsou had never seen you so fierce before, even when you two had all that pent up angst towards each other. At one point, he could not even make a move of his own as he was too busy just blocking your hits. How did you get so much better in the span of days?

There was a glint in your eyes that he had never seen before and it was just enough to distract him for long enough that you managed to break his defense. With a hand gripping onto his upper arm, you tripped him down with a kick and pinned him on the floor. Intimating what he once did to you, you pressed him down and trapped him in between your knees.

You were right above him as you came to the realization that you had won against him for the first time since the training started. Still panting and struggling to gather your breath, you smiled. Not so much because you managed to pin him down, but more for the fact that you could actually do it.

If it had happened a week ago, he would have been infuriated. But now, he could not help it but being mesmerized by how you look hovering above him. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and you were flushed from the fight, would it be wrong if he thought that you looked oddly good? You were so close to him. If he sit up just a little taller, your faces would touch and he was so tempted.

Your eyes widened in surprise when you felt the abrupt peck on your lips. The boy who was still beneath you did not even make that big of a move for you to notice. It you could not see the faint blush on his face, you would have thought that it was an illusion from the adrenaline.

Shinsou was expecting you to slap him or yell at him for kissing you out of nowhere. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was right there and he could not help himself.

His breath stopped as you licked your lips and smirked. “Is that really the best you got?”

Shinsou wasn’t sure if he was more intimidated or turned on by that.

#bnha imagines #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsoubowl week 2019 #shinsoubowl #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #boku no hero academia

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sailorbellewrites · 4 years

Text

Fools Rush In... VII

characters — yoongi x reader (ft. members of bts and other original characters)

summary — min yoongi, music executive and perpetual bachelor, marries a las vegas stripper he’s only known for six months. chaos ensues.

inspiration — fools rush in (1997 rom-com starring salma hayek and matthew perry)

information — a drabble series loosely based on the 1997 movie fools rush in. drabbles not posted in any linear order and written as a creative writing outlet.

warnings — mentions of sex work; age-difference; light sugar daddy themes; smut; light angst (specifically in parts V & VI).

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI

VII — suga (ft. jimin)

Yoongi fucked up.

Or at least that’s what he thinks when Jimin hands him two large stacks of 20 dollar bills. He’s sure it’s no less than $5,000 USD, but he won’t count it. It’s not the first time he’s seen that amount of cash up close, but it looks strange coming from his friend’s hands. “Can you please, please try to have a good time for once?” The younger male begs him, blond fringe damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. “Who comes to a strip club angry?”

“Someone who is forced to come to a strip club.”

“No one forced you to come here,” Jimin laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Yoongi hates how comfortable he looks in this environment. The man always looked like he belonged, regardless of where he was. He was like a chameleon, able to shift and fit in anywhere. Yoongi envied him—having that kind of ability was critical in his industry. Why a pretty boy like Jimin had it was anyone’s guess. “You know this is better than sitting in your hotel room.”

“My hotel room doesn’t smell like overpriced beer and cheap perfume.”

“Lighten up! You were fine with the smell when it was on your ex—”

“I will bury your body in the desert.”

“I left a note in my apartment saying that if I came up missing, it was you.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, shifting his sights to two girls spinning around each other on the same pole. They looked almost angelic, the white of their outfits contrasting nicely against the dark walls of the club. He had half a mind to record the act and send it to one of his artists as inspiration for a music video, but decided against it. He didn’t want to capture them without their permission and he certainly didn’t want to talk to them to ask for it. Jimin heeds his gaze. “You think they’re cute? Want me to get you a lap dance?”

“No, thank you.”

“Aww, come on! They’re fun. When was the last time you had even one beautiful girl rubbing up on you? Knowing how much of a bore you are, it’s had to have been years. And we’ve all seen your ex, so we know she doesn’t count.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at Jimin’s exaggeration. They both knew that Yoongi was in a position to have sex whenever and where ever he wanted. But he had been bored by his options lately; work always seemed more fun, more fulfilling, more worthwhile than the quickies he could have in his office. It had been a few months since he invited anyone over. Jimin didn’t understand, of course; he was made for the bachelor lifestyle.

“Let me get you at least one.”

“No.”

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m getting one you one anyways,” he declares, promptly running off before Yoongi can stop him. He leans back on the couch that he has taken residency on, hands curling around the cash in his lap as he shuts his eyes. He hates Las Vegas; he hates all the lights and all the people running around flaunting their lack of shame; he hates how everything looks so alive when it’s all so clearly dead. He wants to be home, in Seoul, in his bed. He wants to be a bad friend and not travel with Jimin whenever the man demands. He wants to sleep.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there by himself—it could have been two minutes, but it just as easily could have been twenty. Time, Yoongi thinks, does not work the same in Vegas. Eventually, though, he hears a loud, cackling laugh paired with the familiar tinkling of Jimin’s giggles. “This is who you want me to dance for?” A voice says, clearly amused.

“You should see him at parties,” Jimin replies. Yoongi takes this moment to crack his eyes open. A grimace settles onto his face as the first thing his eyes land on are a series of thin black leather straps criss-crossing around pushed up cleavage. His eyes follow the road of straps running up a smooth chest and neck before they land on a face—a gorgeous face—holding an amused grin. Jimin snickers as he says, “Yoongi, I made a friend. She will dance for you.”

Yoongi’s eyes snap to Jimin now as he says, “No.”

“Oh come on—”

“Don’t be nervous,” you speak up suddenly, the grin on your face turning into a more genuine smile as you take a small step forward, reaching out a hand towards him. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow up at the move, making you laugh. “Oh come on, I don’t bite. It’s fun.”

“And I already paid her,” Jimin speaks up. “So you have to do it or you owe me a lot of money.”

“She can dance for you then,” Yoongi responds, though his eyes stay on you and your expectant gaze.

“I already have a dancer waiting for me.”

“How much money would I owe you, then?”

“A lot,” he stresses, in a way that has you rapidly nodding in agreement. “So get your ass off this couch and go.” Yoongi lets out an annoyed huff, mentally weighing out how much money he would be willing to drop in order to avoid getting a lapdance, before deciding that the idea in itself was idiotic. Slowly, he makes his way to his feet, shoving the money in his pocket before gesturing for you to lead the way. Jimin lets out a self congratulatory cheer as you begin to lead Yoongi away from the public couches and towards the ornate gold and black doors labeled Champagne Room.

“I don’t want you to dance for me,” he says as soon as you shut the door of the room. He refuses to even sit down on the leather couches, eyes routinely focused on your form as you turn to face him fully. He takes in your entire outfit now, noting how the tiny shorts have three extra straps resting on and above your hips and how tall you look in platform stiletto boots. A classic red lip and curled hair made you look especially sinful to him; Jimin clearly knew what he was doing by asking you for the private dance.

“You know it costs at least two grand to reserve this room. I have to—”

“Waste his money.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t want to come here anyways. No offense to what you do, but strip clubs aren’t my thing.”

“None taken,” you say with a shrug.

“So don’t dance. Don’t give me what he paid for. Just… sit here.”

“Sit here for an hour?” You question cheekily.

“He reserved you for an hour?” Yoongi asks incredulously, shocked by his friend’s willingness to drop that amount of cash at a strip club. Jimin wasn’t hurting for money, but he wasn’t a frivolous spender either. Unlike some of their friends who dropped cash for sport, Jimin always seemed a bit more careful about what he chose to swipe his card on. Yoongi saw no less than $10,000 USD leave his friend’s hands.

“Technically, dances only last thirty minutes, but he paid more because he liked my name.” At your words, Yoongi lifts his eyebrow. You stick out your hand for him to shake, stating, “I forgot to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Suga Baby.” Yoongi can’t help it. He laughs. It’s a deep, hearty laugh that shows all his teeth and gums. Jimin must have thought he hit the jackpot. “Hey, what’s so funny?” You question, trying to sound offended although your own giggles at his laughter betrays you.

“Your name… it’s just… similar to mine,” Yoongi laughs out, noting how you seem to smile wider at his words.

“Your name is Baby?”

“Suga,” he answers, coming down from his high. “Or that’s what people call me at work.”

“Tell me why.” You request, your head cocked to the side in curiosity, eyes open wide in a way Yoongi isn’t prepared for. You look interested, and not in the way that women in Yoongi’s circle tend to look “interested” when asking him about work—no, not like that. You look at him as though you actually care about the story he has to tell.

So he tells you. He tells you about his name and his company and his friendship with Jimin. He tells you why he’s in Vegas and why he was in New York City before that and New Orleans before that. He finds himself sitting next to you on a plush velvet couch as he asks why they call you Suga Baby and if you like stripping and who your worst client was. You press your hand against his shoulder as you tell him how your family reacted to your job and your favorite coworkers and your upcoming vacation to Los Angeles. And before he knows it, his hour with you is almost up and all you two have done is talked.

So he tells you, then, that he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. That he wishes he could spend more time with you than this because it is the most relaxed he has been since coming to the city.

And he doesn’t expect much to come from it; doesn’t even know why he’s sharing these words with you, but it feels right. And it feels right when you tell him to wait for you at his car because you want to keep talking to him too. And it feels right when he stumbles out of the Champagne Room and tells Jimin to find his own way to the hotel. And it feels right when you run outside 15 minutes later, sweatpants low on your hips and a too tight sports bra digging into your shoulders because it was the only clean thing you had. And it feels right when you slip into the passenger seat with a smile that he can’t place quite yet, waving off his concerns of getting you in trouble with a simple request to, “just drive.”

So he does and it feels right.

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fluff #suga scenarios #suga drabble #suga fluff #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #min yoongi scenarios #min yoongi drabbles #au: fools rush in #sailor belle writes

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