#does it look like a fucking cigarette can harm him more than whatever the fuck is gling on with him and his body?
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I dreamt that Vox from Hazbin Hotel and Doofenshmirtz were friends and they both had someone who were crushing on them and they'd try to run away from them (kinda. I'm pretty sure they just don't know what to do about someone having genuine romantic interest in them so the best thing they can do is run. Unless Vox has Valentino on his tail or someone like that, cause then yeah, I get it. But Perry would never)
#i saw them just standing next to each other on a veranda and i can totally picture vox somehow being able to smoke and doof sees it#and he's just “those are bad for you you know”#and vox stares at him because. does it look like he give a fuck.#does it look like a fucking cigarette can harm him more than whatever the fuck is gling on with him and his body?#really heinz you're insufferable#vox does appreciates the concern and care but also thinks its a nuisance#vox#hazbin hotel#heinz doofenshmirtz#pnf#phineas and ferb#perryshmirtz#staticmoth#voxval
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KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans against the hood of the Kineema, taking a long drag of his cigarette. In the cold and the late night starlight, the crystals of his breaths seem to glow. As you gingerly cross the cobblestones to join him, he eyes you with what might be concern, but not surprise.
“You should be resting,” he says, but there’s no real reproach in his voice.
YOU — “So should you.”
KIM KITSURAGI — A wry smile splits his bruised face. “Touché.”
ENDURANCE — He looks exhausted. He would be sleeping right now if he were able.
PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s not easy to put a battered body to sleep. It wants to be vigilant and protect itself from further harm.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Not only himself.
YOU — “Changed your mind about that midnight ride?”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant chuckles. “Only if I wanted to piss off all of Martinaise. This engine is loud enough to wake the dead.”
YOU — “I know.”
INLAND EMPIRE — The dead, the living, and the whatever-you-are.
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you curiously, but does not press you.
REACTION SPEED — He’s in a pretty laid back mood, it seems. Or maybe just tired. Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind whatever you’re doing. You might be able to get away with some mischief.
“Fuck Martinaise. Let’s ride, Kim.”
“Can I bum a cigarette off you?”
“Wanna listen to the radio?”
Climb into the Kineema.
PAIN THRESHOLD — You’re a bit shaky as you climb into the passenger seat of the Kineema. The hole in your thigh makes it rather an ordeal. It’s not quite as cool a maneuver as you hoped.
COUPRIS KINEEMA — The motor carriage is pretty forgiving of all this. You and Kim hardly even feel it shiver as you finally settle into the seat, somewhat winded.
The back seat isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not quite what you expected, either. It feels strangely… new. Like it hasn’t really been broken in yet. Unlike the driver’s seat, which has an almost perfectly Kim-shaped imprint worn into it.
VISUAL CALCULUS — *Not* that you’ve spent any great length of time pondering the lieutenant’s shape.
KIM KITSURAGI — “Comfortable?” His tone is dry, but not disapproving.
YOU — “Comfy cozy.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Hm.” He leans back against the door, stifling a yawn.
EMPATHY — He’s letting you poke around his sanctuary without protest, not even a little sulk. This is one of the highest honors he could bestow upon you. Bask in it.
YOU — Aw, yeah. Male bonding. I’m so good at this.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — You’re really not. But neither is he. So it all works out somehow, though he has no idea how.
YOU — Neither do I! We have so much in common.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — More than you know.
+1 MORALE
COUPRIS KINEEMA — You sit back in the seat, staring up through the moonroof at the stars. Clouds pass overhead, dark with rain or snow that hasn’t quite made up its mind where to fall. The city is not silent, but pleasantly quiet all the same.
HALF LIGHT — It’s *too* quiet. Raise hell before hell comes for *you.*
“You sure I can’t change your mind about that midnight drive?” (Raise hell)
Take a ride in your *imagination.* (Enjoy the quiet)
COUPRIS KINEEMA — You close your eyes and imagine the rumbling engine, the vibrations of the road rattling your ribcage.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — But where are you going?
Anywhere but here. I don’t care where.
To the other side of the world.
To the bottom of the sea.
Home.
INLAND EMPIRE — And where is home? Where does a man like you belong? Little more than a skeleton in someone else’s closet.
VISUAL CALCULUS — When you try to remember it, all you can picture are little pinpricks of light: candles in the dark on a cold night, stars piercing through smog, fleeting moments of warmth that distract, but do little to fend off the inevitable.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — You’re going to have to imagine something new for yourself. So, Harry, where is this car headed?
Uphill.
Downhill.
I don’t know. I’m just a passenger. (Look at Kim)
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant taps the ashes from his cigarette, careful not to let the wind blow them into his precious motor carriage.
REACTION SPEED — You’re not sure, but you think you might have caught him looking at you. It’s hard to say whether he was keeping an eye on you for your sake or the car’s.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Both. But… mostly the car. He feels a little bad about that, if it’s any consolation.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — You wonder what Kim’s home is like.
PERCEPTION — His Kineema and his person are both kept extraordinarily tidy. The same can likely be said of his living space.
LOGIC — It’s probably small, too, considering your salary. Maybe an apartment like the ones at Capeside.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You imagine it smells like motor oil and pine.
DRAMA — The lieutenant projects an image of practicality, sensibility. But you know already, sire, that there is more to him. Little lonesome joys. Does he keep up the act even at home? Or does he feel free to indulge because there is no one watching?
EMPATHY — He must get lonely sometimes. Everyone does, don’t they?
INLAND EMPIRE — His home is warm and beautiful, up on a high, high hill that you cannot climb.
YOU — But I’m not climbing. I’m in the passenger seat.
INLAND EMPIRE — Slowing him down.
HALF LIGHT — Setting the dogs at your heels after him, too.
YOU — Fine… Maybe he can’t take me all the way home. But wherever he’s taking me, it’s better than wherever I was going.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — You can almost feel it: the relief of letting go. You think maybe you felt it for a brief moment once, right as you drove your car off the edge. Right before you hit the water and realized what you’d done. Realized that you were going to have to drag yourself back onto land, alone.
But this? This is different. This is *better.* Unlike you, Kim is a good man. You can’t go wrong following him. You can be at ease. You don’t have to die. You can just surrender.
VOLITION — No, Harry. You can’t.
YOU — Why not? I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore.
VOLITION — But he said it himself, Harry. *Sunrise, Parabellum.* Another day, another battle. It’s always going to be a fight. If you follow him, he will just lead you into a battle of a different kind.
YOU — I don’t want that… I want the war to *end.*
VOLITION — I know… I know, Harry. But his lungs do not glow, and he isn’t from up on Marvel Hill. He is just a tired man, like you, longing to let go. And he has to fight it with every sunrise. As they all do.
You’re not in this war alone. Everyone in the world is fighting the undertow.
YOU — That isn’t comforting. It’s sad.
VOLITION — It is. It’s very sad. But at least it isn’t lonely.
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s cigarette has long since burned out, but he shows no sign of going back to bed. Just stares out past the skyline at something only he can see, brow drawn.
YOU — “…Kim?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Hm?”
YOU — “Did I ever tell you what woke me up the day we met?”
KIM KITSURAGI — He glances at you in the side mirror. “No, I don’t think so… What was it?”
“A miracle.”
“A clarion call from hell.”
“A promise I made to myself.”
“Love, brother Coppo. It was love all along.”
“The Kineema. I heard you.”
KIM KITSURAGI — His eyes widen just slightly.
SHIVERS — At this moment, just down the road, there is a little girl sleeping soundly in her warm bed. Her mother silently slips a new book, wrapped in ribbons, onto her nightstand. An apology, of sorts.
In a drafty apartment a few blocks away, a young woman sweeps the kitchen floor while her sister tucks a blanket around the shoulders of their working class mother, asleep on the couch. When the sweeping is done, they will iron their best funeral clothes.
In that same building, two red-headed children lie back to back in bed. Both of them are only pretending to sleep, each thinking that they’re keeping watch to protect the other. Briefly, one of them thinks about reaching out for the other’s hand, and then thinks better of it— never realizing that the other was thinking the same.
And in the G.R.I.H., not far from Terminal H and Precinct 57, there is an apartment. It is little more than a tin box, one of thousands just like it. There is no one sleeping there tonight, waiting. No one hoping to wake up to the sound of a homecoming. The box is empty. It has been empty for a very long time.
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s gaze slowly drops from the mirror to the cigarette butt under his boot heel.
“…Well,” he says softly, “isn’t that something.” That’s all he can say.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Every word that comes to mind feels foolish and saccharine. But there are *many* that come to him, all trying to say the same thing: he is glad that you woke up.
YOU — Maybe someday I’ll feel glad, too.
VOLITION — You will get there. You can find home again.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Not on the crescent of the hill, but a shore at low tide. Knowing that though the water will lap at your ankles again, it will also recede again. It never ends, but sometimes you won’t want it to.
YOU — I never want this moment to end.
INLAND EMPIRE — It ended in the time it took you to think those words.
VOLITION — That’s what made it precious.
COUPRIS KINEEMA — Swaddled in sentimentality— and your polar anorak— you feel yourself drifting into a warm doze.
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant does not try to rouse you. He simply climbs into the driver’s seat and lets the moment linger a while longer.
#disco elysium#suicide tw#harry du bois#kim kitsuragi#harrykim#kimharry#whatever da hell the pairing is called#yeah yeah i know that you actually can mention to kim like a billion times that the kineema woke you up#pretend that you can somehow make it this far without selecting any of those options#anyway something something about how even if you can’t ever really ‘’overcome’’ addiction or suicidality#you can still live… you can still live.#also woohoo my first readmore 💀
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friendsgiving excerpt, fair ithilien verse
i realized that i completely misadvertised this one -- it is not a fun fic, very very angsty, and is the catalyst for eddie leaving indiana and going to live with jonathan and argyle in LA for a few months before heading to san fran. here's a piece of writing i did that i'm quite proud of:
“There are only two doors on this fucking house,” Eddie starts.
Confusion flashes across Steve’s face, alarm, but he masks it quickly. He’s mean first, and fucking good at it when he feels indignant. Eddie wishes he didn’t know Steve so well. “I think I know the layout of my own house, Eddie.”
“If you know the layout of your own house, Steve, riddle me this,” Eddie spits. “Say I’m in the backyard, smoking a cigarette, because no one gets to decide I quit except for me – am I going to go all the way to the front door to get back inside? A door that might be locked for all I know?”
Eddie can see Steve softening a little, the steel in his glare subsiding just a bit. “I suppose not.”
“So it makes the most sense for me to go in the back door, which is already open, because you opened it, I watched you do it,” Eddie continues. “But you and your wife seem to be having a tense conversation. And I don’t want to interrupt, or make noise, or disturb it. So that’s why I stayed put until the coast was clear. No offense, Steve, but I have more pressing matters on my mind than whatever you and your wife talk about when you’re alone.”
“Eddie,” Steve breathes. It’s so kind, and Eddie hates it. “Please, Eddie, I –”
Eddie laughs bitterly. “I don’t blame you for locking your front door, of course. Nice neighborhood like this, wouldn’t want anyone unsavory coming in. Take the trash out the back, you know how it goes.”
It’s fucking mean, a snarl from a wounded animal. He feels a pang of regret as Steve’s face falls, that beautiful face twisting in regret, any anger there now fled. But Eddie’s eyes hurt from keeping them anywhere but those two fucking moles on Steve’s neck, tantalizing and inviting above his crew neck collar. The skin there is probably soft from whatever expensive body wash he uses, a gift from Megan, maybe. Steve doesn’t drown himself in cologne anymore, but there’s something lingering – new clothes smell, or the air freshener that’s plugged into the kitchen outlet by the toaster oven. He wants to fist his hands in that crimson cashmere, wreck the collar from how hard he tugs it down, just to get his mouth on those two moles. Maul him, make a mess of that expanse of skin, so no one knows there are moles there by the time he’s done.
“How are you, Eddie?” Steve says. It’s impossibly quiet.
“I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie says, automatic. “I told you that before.”
“No, Eddie,” Steve says. He steps into Eddie’s space. “How are you, really?”
Unlike a lot of people, Eddie actually knows what it feels like to be eaten alive. He knows what it feels like to have some malevolent force not even wait until your heart stops beating to tear into your flesh. But this glass barrier between himself and everyone else, the long, endless days he spends at the trailer, or on the road, or dodging people’s phone calls – this barrier that he himself created? He’ll take the demobats over this any day. At least with those things, he could immediately identify what was causing him harm. Razor sharp fangs, tail like a whip designed to strangle prey, rough scales where skin is supposed to be – no wonder I feel like I’m going to die! But the vice grip of loneliness is harder to qualify, a pain so big that to speak it into existence would make it real. Inescapable.
What does Eddie say to Steve? He doesn’t know how to talk about this emptiness that permeates every part of his existence. It would be so easy to rebuff him, to head back into the dining room with everyone else, where they’ve all no doubt dismantled the dessert table. But Steve’s looking at him like it’ll kill him if Eddie doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. And Eddie wants to believe it’s a lie. He wants so badly to convince himself that Steve doesn’t care about him, that now that he has a wife, he doesn’t need anyone else. Doesn’t need Eddie. But Eddie can see that this isn’t true. That Steve’s just the same as he’s always been, caring to a fault, big enough to see when he’s miscalculated, and that just makes the pain worse.
“I’m…” he starts, but the words get caught in his throat. For the first time this entire conversation, he looks away from Steve. It’s too hard, too close –
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Let's Give It A Try
Pairing: Bokuto x Reader
Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation
Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.
Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.
Everything will be just fine.
And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.
He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.
It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.
But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…
This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.
“I can be that someone.”
There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.
Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.
Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.
You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.
You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.
Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.
And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.
There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.
But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.
And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.
Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.
You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.
You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.
It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.
That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.
It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.
But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.
It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.
“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”
You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.
“Koutarou, please-”
You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.
“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”
You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.
The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.
And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.
But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.
“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”
And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.
Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.
“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.
It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?
But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.
You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.
Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.
None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.
“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”
You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.
“Let’s give it a try.”
#haikyuu smut#bokuto smut#bokuto x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios
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Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd
Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person
[Masky X F!Reader]
[Warnings: language, physical cheating]
[AN: i love angst too]
The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.
It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.
She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.
“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”
“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.
“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”
Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.
Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”
“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.
“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”
Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”
Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.
“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.
Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.
Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”
Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.
“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.
Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.
She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”
Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”
The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.
And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.
Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.
When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.
Tim stayed the night.
The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.
It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.
Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?
He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.
Excuses, excuses.
The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.
He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.
It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?
A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.
“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.
You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”
“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.
He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.
The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.
You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.
“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”
“I wanna go home.”
Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.
A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.
You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”
“What? No-”
“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.
Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”
“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.
“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”
“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.
“You don’t mean that-”
“I do.”
“Reader, baby please-”
“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”
Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.
He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.
The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.
#masky#masky x reader#masky scenario#masky creepypasta#tim wright#tim wright x reader#tim wright headcanon#masky headcanon#tim wright marble hornets#marble hornets#marble hornets x reader#marble hornets headcanon#marble hornets scenario#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta scenario#angst#hoodie#kate the chaser#ticci toby
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Friends Don't Lie Ch. 1
Pairing: Jungwon x reader
Warnings for this chapter: underage drinking and smoking, mention of porn
Chapter word count: 2k
Based on: Stranger Things
Sunoo
“Can we play please?” Sunoo pleads, tugging at Sunghoon's sleeve.
“No, you’re not a baby.” he rolls his eyes.
“Who said d and d was for babies?” Sunoo scoffs and plops onto the couch.
“Everyone,” Jay says while trying on one of Jungwon’s jackets. “Even Niki doesn’t play anymore.”
Sunoo groans. “You guys are boring.”
“I’ll play with you.” Jake ruffles his hair.
“We need at least four people.” he whines.
“You guys play, we’re gonna go to the drive-in.” Niki says.
“And do what? Makeout with people and get gonorrhea?”
“That’s not how STDs work, dumbass.” Jay laughs.
“Whatever,” Sunoo rolls his eyes again.
“It’ll be fun man, just come with us.” Jungwon grabs at his arm. “Plus you like scary movies.”
“It’s Videorome, isn’t that movie about porn?” Sunoo frowns.
“Just come,” Jungwon begs. “I’m gonna be the only one without a chick, you have to keep me company.”
“I’m just gonna go home, Heeseung hyung will be mad if I stay out.” Sunoo stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.
“You gonna bike home?” Jake asks while spritzing cologne on his neck.
“Yeah, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Sunoo says while making his way up the basement stairs.
“See you.”
“Bye Ddeonu.” Jay teases.
Sunoo walks by Mrs. Yang who’s cleaning up the kitchen.
“Bye Mrs. Yang, thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” he smiles at her.
“Of course Sunoo-shi, are you going home now? I thought you boys were going to the drive in?”
He shrugs. “Yeah but I figured I should go home so that my hyung doesn’t worry.”
She smiles and pats his head. “Such a sweet boy, tell him I said hi alright?”
He nods and heads out the door.
It’s pitch black out and the air feels dry.
Sunoo mounts his bike and starts to peddle home, but something moving in the corner of his eye catches his attention.
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Jungwon
Jungwon feels bad. He hates feeling this way. It’s eating at his conscience.
“Why are you guys so mean to Sunoo?” Jungwon says while steering his Camaro.
“What are you talking about?” Jay lights a cigarette and Jungwon slaps it out of his hand.
“Don’t smoke in here, my mom will kill me.” he scolds.
Jay rolls his eyes and throws it out the window.
“It’s just our way of showing affection.” Sunghoon says with Niki sitting on his lap. The car doesn’t have nearly enough seats to fit all of them, but they make it work.
“You need help if you think that’s what affection is.” Jungwon grumbles.
Jake shakes his shoulder. “Loosen up Jungwon, he knows we love him.”
“I hope.” he replies.
Jungwon always wishes he could be nicer to Sunoo. Everytime he sees him he thinks, I should compliment Sunoo or tell him that I appreciate him. But he never does and he hates himself for it.
Jungwon parks in their usual spot.
“I’m gonna go try to con us some beers.” Jay says before hopping out the car.
“Don’t get arrested.” Sunghoon jokes.
Jake rolls down the window to chat with the girls next to them.
Jungwon slumps into his seat. Something feels wrong. They go to the drive in all the time, but something feels off. Everything feels, sounds, and smells the same. But there’s a tinge of pain in Jungwon’s heart. Maybe Jay’s cigs are starting to get to me, he thinks, but he knows that he’s lying to himself.
“Can you just go to her car?” Sunghoon groans. “We exist too you know?”
“Fine,” Jake opens to car door and merrily makes his way to her Ford.
Jay comes jogging up to the car with two cans of beer in each hand. “I am incredible.”
“Indeed you are.” Sunghoon reaches out for one. Niki does too but Jay pulls his hand away.
“No way man.” Jay chuckles and Niki groans.
“I’m literally taller than you.”
“And I weigh more,” Jay says. “No beer until you’re seventeen.”
Jay hands Jungwon a can and he reluctantly cracks it open. He never liked beer but he figured he needed it today.
He lets the bitter substance go down his throat. He holds his breath before swallowing so that he can’t taste it.
Jungwon watches the movie in a daze. The alcohol has gone to his head and everything feels calmer despite the gore being displayed on the screen.
“Shit, it’s eleven thirty.” Jake says. “I’ll drive us home, you’re all too drunk.”
“I can drive.” Jungwon insists.
“No you can’t.” Jake pulls him up by the arms and guides him to the backseat.
Jungwon rests his head on his hand as Jake drops everyone off.
“Alright get up Won, we’re here.” Jake parks the Camaro in the driveway.
“I’m tired.” Jungwon whines and gets up sluggishly.
“You’re such a lightweight.” Jake chuckles and helps him to the door. “Get to your room before your parents see you.”
“Roger that.” Jungwon mumbles and tries to sober up before heading through the door.
The stairs moan underneath his feet as he quietly climbs them. He can hear Jooyoung chatting on the phone as he walks to his room.
He changes into pajamas and heads to the bathroom. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are half open.
“Damn, I am a lightweight.” he says while observing his face in the mirror.
He splashes water on his face and rakes his hands through his hair.
The bathroom light flickers. He furrows his brow.
“I thought dad fixed that last week.”
He washes up quietly and knocks on Jooyoung’s door.
“What?” she calls out.
He creaks the door open. “Don’t be on the phone for too long noona, mom will get mad.”
She rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t need to know, don’t be a snitch.”
“I never am.” he sighs and closes the door.
He climbs into bed and turns to look at the photo on his nightstand. It’s him and the gang at seventh grade graduation.
Jay is smiling big and towering over the rest of them. He was always the tallest among them and Jungwon was dead jealous.
Jake’s arm is slung around Jungwon and Jungwon’s arm is around little Sunoo. Sunoo’s smile is bright and cute. His suit jacket is too big for him, he probably borrowed it from Heeseung.
Jungwon still remembers the day he and Sunoo met. It was the first day of kindergarten. Sunoo was alone on the swing set, staring at his feet. Jungwon had a few friends that he met in preschool but he wondered what the harm was to have one more. He asked Sunoo if he wanted to be friends. It was the best decision he ever made.
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“Breakfast!” Jungwon’s mom calls out as he pulls on a striped polo.
He skips down the stairs and sits down at the dining table.
“Have you seen Sunoo? Heeseung called this morning.” Mrs. Yang says while handing him a plate of waffles, bacon, and eggs.
“No, I thought he biked home.” Jungwon cocks a brow while pouring syrup over all of his food.
“That’s disgusting.” Jooyoung remarks while taking a seat next to him.
“Your face is disgusting.” he jeers.
“Well make sure he’s at school today okay? Heeseung sounded really worried.” Mrs. Yang sits down next to her husband.
“Does he think he got kidnapped or something? As if anyone would want him.” Jooyoung snickers.
“Fuck off, that’s not funny.” Jungwon says.
“Language.” Mr. Yang says sternly.
“She’s being an ass.” Jungwon rolls his eyes.
“What did you just call me?” Jooyoung’s head snaps towards him.
“Whatever.” he dismisses her.
She shoves his shoulder. “No, say it again.”
“Stop it! Both of you!” Mrs. Yang yells. “Can we not have one peaceful breakfast?”
“I can, I don’t know about her though.” Jungwon grumbles.
“I’ll kill you.” Jooyoung grits her teeth.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Jungwon replies.
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Sunoo’s not at school.
“Do you think he’s sick or something?” Jake wonders.
“That doesn’t make sense though, his mom said he never came home last night.” Jungwon chews on his pencil.
“Maybe he went to someone’s house.” Jay suggests and Jungwon gives him a look.
“Who’s house would he have gone to? We’re his only friends.”
Jay shrugs. “Maybe he has a secret lover.”
Sunghoon chuckles.
“Why aren’t you guys taking this seriously? Something could have happened.” Jungwon crosses his arms.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Nothing bad ever happens in this shit town anyway.” Jake says right as Mr. Jones walks into the classroom.
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Jungwons heart drops further and further into his stomach as the day goes on with no sign of Sunoo.
The boys are playing basketball during p.e when Principal Coleman and a policeman walk into the gym.
“I wonder who’s weed they found.” Jay jokes but his smile diminishes as the two men approach them.
“Gentlemen we need to speak to you,” Principal Coleman says, “outside that is.”
They all give each other nervous looks but follow suit. Jungwon can feel eyes on his back as he makes his way out of the door.
“Do you know what route Sunoo takes to get home?” the chief says. He towers over them and his biceps look the same width as Jungwon's thighs.
“Yeah, he takes Mirkwood.” Jungwon replies quickly.
“Don’t fucking call it that anymore.” Jay rolls his eyes.
“What the hell is Mirkwood?” the man says and crosses his arms. “Stop messing around, this is serious.”
“It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet.” Jake says.
“Why do you call it Mirkwood?” the cop says, unimpressed.
“It’s from The Hobbit.” Jungwon says and Jay shoves his shoulder.
“What? I’m just telling the truth.” Jungwon exclaims.
“So what happened to Sunoo?” Sunghoon says plainly. “Where is he?”
“We’re not sure, he’s probably at his Dad’s-”
“Why would he go there, his dad’s a cock.” Jay argues.
“His dad sucks.” Sunghoon says under his breath.
“Enough, let me do my job alright?” the cop says, exasperated.
“We can help look for him, we know all the places he likes to go.” Jungwon says with hopeful eyes and Niki nods.
“Yeah, we can help.” Jake says.
“No,” the cop shakes his head. “After school you are all to go home, and if I see any of you searching around, I’ll have you in shackles. Is that clear?”
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“We have to.”
“What if we get caught?”
“Then we run.” Jay says while packing a backpack of supplies.
“You think we can out run him?” Jungwon gets up and pulls a jacket on.
“Of course we can, that dude was huge.” Niki says while chugging down a Coke.
“Don’t drink that,” Sunghoon tsks. “You’ll have to pee.”
“I’ll just piss in the woods.” Niki rebuttals.
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The sun had set an hour ago and the stars were twinkling bright.
“Where are you boys going?” Mrs. Yang asks while watching tv on the couch.
“Party.” Jungwon says quickly.
“With backpacks?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Uhm, yeah.” Jungwon nods and she giggles.
“You’re not a good liar Jungwon-ah. Have fun, don’t be stupid out there.” she says and they happily head out the door.
Jungwon drives to Mirkwood with his headlights off. He couldn’t risk getting caught, that cop scared the shit of him.
“There’s a barricade.” Jake says quietly.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon says while getting out of the car, pulling his flashlight out of his backpack.
“Shit, it’s raining.” Jay wipes a raindrop off of his cheek.
Jungwon takes his flashlight out and pulls his hood over his head.
They hop over the blockade and venture into the dense woods.
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It’s pouring at this point and their hoods are only making things worse.
They can’t even hear their footsteps over the sound of crashing rain.
“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Jake asks.
“Anything, his bike, his jacket, him.” Jay says.
Jungwon was starting to regret this decision. They’ve been walking for what seemed like hours with no clue of Sunoo.
“Maybe we should turn back,” Jungwon says. “This isn’t working.”
“No,” Jay says. “We need to keep looking, cops miss shit all the time.”
“Hold on hold on,” Jake stops in his tracks.
“What?” everyone asks.
“Shut up, do you hear that?” he says and they all try to open their ears. There’s rustling coming from ahead. Something is coming towards them.
“Fuck.” Jungwon whispers and grabs onto Jay's arm.
They all lift their flashlights to find a human in nothing but an oversized yellow shirt, breathing heavily and squinting from the lights blinding their eyes.
#enhypen fic#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#Jungwon x reader#Jungwon angst#Jungwon fluff#enhypen imagines
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Maybe, Maybe, Maybe
Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.
They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.
“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”
“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”
She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.
“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”
“No thanks, I should, should be going-”
“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))
“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”
***
“Who did this to you?”
He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”
“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”
“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”
The room goes silent. Isabel continues:
“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”
Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.
“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”
“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”
He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.
“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“
Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))
“Fine. What do you want from me?”
“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”
Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”
“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.
“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”
Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“
“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”
“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”
“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”
It’s not a question.
Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“
Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”
Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.
They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.
Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.
“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”
“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”
“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”
At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.
***
“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”
“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.
“Look, I’m not much good at this-“
“You’re telling me.”
“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”
“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”
“I’m sorry…”
“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.
“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”
“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”
There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”
“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”
She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”
“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”
Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.
He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.
“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”
“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”
“I can imagine.”
“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”
Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”
“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”
“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”
“How do you have a functioning liver?”
They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.
“I never knew you drew.”
“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”
“Can I see?”
“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”
“Yes.”
He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.
In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.
He looks so proud of her.
He looks so… content.
After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”
“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:
“Tell me about your crew.”
“What?”
“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”
“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”
Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.
“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”
“That’s the woman behind him?”
“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”
“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”
Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”
Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”
“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”
((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.
“And Lambert?”
“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”
((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)
She falters.
“Lovelace?”
“Yup?”
“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“
“They’re everywhere?”
There’s a sudden understanding between them.
“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”
“Flashes of them.”
“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“
“Maybe-“
“Maybe.”
((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.
“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.
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Better Luck
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
A late night bubble bath takes a deadly turn, when a face you thought you'd never see again comes crashing into your home. Lucky for you, Flip doesn't take too kindly to people trying to harm the most precious thing in the world to him.
5.6k ; Content warnings for home invasion, stalking, murder, graphic descriptions of violence, mild gore, blood, misogyny, implied/referenced past domestic abusive, and NSFW (Bathtub sex, murder kink, PIV)
(events of Hide Your Smile are mentioned)
Also available on AO3!
----------------------------
It’s been a long day, you know. Flip was out late, was out for a real long time, but now he was home, and his muscles were sore, he was achin’ for a bath. So in the bathroom you are, naked and lounging among a pile of bubbles, fragrant and delicate as they pop in the air around you.
He’s looking at you with that doe-eyed expression of his, the one he gets when he’s had a couple beers or has been away from you for too long. This is the latter, you know, his eyes are clear with sobriety, just soft and sparkling with love. You look right back at him, admire the way his wet hair makes those ears of his stick out, admire how his dimples crease and crinkle around his goatee when he smiles.
“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks you after a moment of sweet eye contact that you reciprocate half hidden behind the suds.
“Just thinkin’ about how handsome you are, it’s unfair.” You reply, lifting your foot to rest it cheekily on his shoulder.
“Oh yeah?” He grins, huffing and puffing on the cigarette he’s got, blowing smoke towards the vent in the ceiling, turning to press little smooches against your ankle, “Why don’t you tell me all about it.”
“Come a little closer and I just might.” You nudge him towards you with your foot, and he stubs out the cigarette to move across the tub and cover your body with his.
His mouth is on yours teasingly. His lips are plush and full and just barely out of reach, making you work for it, making you giggle and grin and nip little bites at his cheek. He smiles and you cup his neck and hold him close, his wet hair shagging down around his face and enveloping you both in a curtain of brown. Your eyes slip closed and he gives in, breathes in deeply the scent of you and the soap and the suds and –
There’s a CRASH! downstairs.
Flip freezes, he hears it first, his reflexes attuned to the world around him ever so quicker than yours.
His voice is hard all of a sudden, jaw clenched together as he’s lifting himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel and ordering you to, “Stay here.”
With the thud of your heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you ignore him and follow him out of the tub immediately. The thought of leaving him to deal with whatever that crash was alone is simply unbearable, almost as terrifying as the thought of staying upstairs by yourself. Not now, you couldn’t sit in this tub alone now. You don’t even bother to drain it, only going so far as to blow out the candles so they don’t catch onto the curtain and burn your house down.
Flip sees you getting dressed hurriedly beside him and is already frowning, scowling deep and heavy as he tugs on the pair of jeans he was wearing earlier that day and a t-shirt from the hamper. You pull on a nightgown, just something to cover yourself up. Neither of you are completely dry, but there’s another crash from downstairs, and you can’t find it in you to care, not when your heart is racing as fast as it is.
You stand behind Flip silently, not daring to make a single sound, not going to make a single breath as he grabs his gun from the dresser and begins his descent down the stairs.
It’s dark, downstairs.
It’s quiet.
Flip avoids the creaky floorboard and you do the same, hovering just before that step, not wanting to make Flip angry by going any further. You’re lucky he let you go this far.
He goes farther.
There’s a SMASH! then, the sound of glass shattering, likely the little window above the sink in your kitchen, and Flip bolts.
He’s deadly silent as he runs through the pitch black of the house, Flip is. You can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, there’s no sound of struggle or gunfire yet, not yet. Just the heavy thud of boots on carpeting and wood panel flooring, and your heartbeat hammering hammering hammering in your ears. You’re trying not to scream, and the impulse is getting harder harder harder to hold back when you finally hear,
“Let me go! Let me – I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” It’s a man’s voice, a man who you recognize, and the blood drains from your face when you do recognize it – it seems almost like a lifetime ago, an age ago, since you’ve heard it.
The sounds of struggling are loud now, scuffling as Flip wrestles and wrangles the intruder to the floor. You descend the stairs slowly, in disbelief, your body going numb, going cold, as you hear the crunch of a nose being broken and the grunts that accompany it. You’re frozen, frozen in place as your eyes widen as far as they will go, vision blurred from the way you’re shaking. Are you shaking? You can’t tell, you’re numb, you can’t feel anything.
“Shut the fuck up.” Flip shouts, his voice louder than anything you’ve ever heard before, it echoes in your brain a thousand times. When you turn the corner you can see him standing over the man, pistol whipping him in the face with the butt of his gun, shouting so hard that his face shakes, that spit flies and catches in the moonlight, “I said shut up!”
You hug the corner of the hallway that faces the kitchen, where the sliding glass door is open and broken – not the window then, you think fleetingly – and Flip whips around to face you.
His face is deranged, eyes wide and black and filled with rage, blood dripping down from his fingertips from where the man’s nose was broken under his fist, his gun. The expression on Flip’s face is one that you’ve only seen once before, a long time ago when you were just a teenager, when he…well. You don’t need a reminder of what he did, how he saved you then.
Flip turns to face you more fully, and you can see how your husband has this intruder pinned so beautifully underneath him. Flip has one big knee slammed down on the cavity of his stomach, bent over to grip him by his throat. The gun is in his other hand, and though Flip looks just shy of feral, the gun does not shake. Despite that, despite his calm, you feel something clawing up your throat, a scream, a shriek of terror when your eyes adjust and the familiar outline of the man’s face is revealed to you.
Time stands still.
He looks so different, and yet exactly the same.
It’s a little hard to tell, with his nose smashed in the way that it is, with blood dripping oozing flowing down onto his lips – but you know him, you know this man. A friend of…his, your ex. The very same one that Flip disposed of over a decade ago, that ex. This man, one of his cronies, you remember these features.
They’re as disturbing to you now as they were then, the face that haunted your every step. Standing outside your window in the dead of night, lurking behind parked cars in lots, always on the same side of the street – following, watching, waiting.
Hunting.
He’s older now, hardened, the man. But the thing that has yet to change, the thing that chills you more than anything else, is the look in his eye. That sparkle, the glimmer of madness, the vacant shine – like a shark.
“Alex? Is that you?” You stand in silence for too long, holding your breath. The words fall out of your mouth seemingly on their own, like you’re surprised you remember the name. But how could you forget? How could you, when he had done everything in his power to make you pay for what happened to Josh?
Alex's ribcage expands under the pressure of Flip’s knee, and he takes in a ragged breath, a strained one. He’s in pain, you can tell, he has to be in pain, but he doesn’t show it.
“Answer her.” Flip doesn’t shout this time, his brain working a million miles a minute. He looks at you, confused, concerned. He waits, his eyes on you. It’s easy for him, restraining Alex, the man is as thin and gangly as he was back in high school, like he never grew into his body.
“Long time no see.” Alex grins at you, blood on his teeth.
You come closer, one foot in front of the other as you enter the kitchen. Alex doesn’t struggle against Flip’s hold, he knows it’s of no use. But he’s slippery, a slimy bastard, he’s going to wait for an opportunity to get out from under Flip’s grip and then he’ll lunge for you.
You know this.
You know Flip won’t give him the opportunity.
“I thought they put you away for good.” You say, your voice entirely too calm.
“So did they.” Alex replies, his grin wider.
You give him a sparing glance, he’s still in his prison uniform, covered in filth and grime and muck. Irrationally, a flare of anger shoots through you for how you just mopped the floors. Flip seems to notice that at the same time, and he breaks his silence.
“You know him?” He asks you gently, calmly, a voice so laced with venom that it’s soothing and terrifying at the same time. Flip wants to rip him to pieces, his jaw is clenched so tightly that you’re worried for his teeth.
“He’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who wouldn’t ever leave me alone back in high school.” You reply, nodding slowly as you take a few more steps closer closer closer, inching towards the monster who has sought you out once again, “Remember I called the cops but they said they couldn’t do anything since he only stalked me? They found him trying to kidnap a girl at the college, found a padlocked cooler in his truck, knives. She was the fourth girl he had gotten to.”
“I remember.” Flip turns his attention back to the man underneath him, who is now starting to squirm, starting to get flighty. He’s waiting for his opportunity, he doesn’t know he’s not going to get one, not with Flip, not when Flip continues, “Liked cutting women up, isn’t that right, Alex? Liked hearing them scream for you, got off on it, right?”
“Maybe.” He’s struggling, the pressure on his lungs, on his throat growing too much for him. You watch watch watch, as Flip makes up his mind.
“Is that what you came here for tonight? To cut my girl up?” The questions are hypothetical, but they’re not at the same time. Flip knows what he’s going to do, he just needs Alex to say it so he has the permission.
“Maybe.” Alex chokes, and Flip doesn’t like that.
“Maybe’s not a fucking answer!” Flip shouts so loudly that the veins in his neck stand out as he grasps Alex's sandy blonde hair as tightly as he can and bashes his head against the floor, blood splattering out from the broken nose in an arc across the wood paneling.
“What are you going to do with him?” You whisper then, your heart racing, thudding hammering pounding in your chest.
“What do you want me to do?” Flip looks up at you with wide open eyes, his gaze imploring, near begging.
“I want you to kill him.” You say without even thinking about it.
You say it too quickly.
You’ve been wanting to say it for so many years.
But this…this is different than the last time. The last time you were both young, much too young.
The last time it was an accident, a mistake that had to be covered up.
The last time Flip hadn’t planned on killing the boy who beat the shit out of you.
(You don’t know, but yes. Yes he had.)
He’s a detective now, a lieutenant now. He could lose everything if someone were to find out. He could be locked away for the rest of his life, he could be put to death. They just reinstated capital punishment, just this year, you know. You know you know you know – and yet.
And yet, Flip cannot imagine doing anything else to this man, cannot imagine any other outcome for him.
“Honey-bunny?” He asks you softly, sweetly, as Alex begins to struggle more significantly underneath him, growing impatient, growing scared.
“Yes Phil?” You whisper, watching watching watching.
Flip looks at Alex, mulls it over for a moment before licking his lips and instructing,
“Go put a tarp down in the basement.”
---------------
It’s surreal, doing this. The moment the words leave his lips you’re running, bolting down the hall and to the stairs that go down down down. As soon as you’re out of sight, you hear a gunshot, and a scream.
You don’t look back.
The basement’s not the most frequented place in the house, you almost forget that it’s there half the time. Nothing but storage, big cardboard boxes labeled with holiday decorations that it’s not time for.
There’s a single lightbulb that flickers on and off for a moment before settling on the low light of an orange glow. You have to search for a minute for where the tarps might be, eventually finding them in the back from when you had all those renovations done last year. Your friends playfully mocked you for keeping them back then, but who was laughing now?
Clearing a space on the floor, you put the tarps down, and as quickly as you can, you push all the boxes as far out of the way as possible.
It’s only a minute before Flip is kicking the door in, Alex screaming and thrashing in his hold. Your stomach churns when you see that he shot a hole through Alex's cheek, has hooked his finger through it and is using that to pull him down the steps. Flip doesn’t give a shit if his cheek tears clean through, he doesn’t care, he’s seeing red.
“You picked the wrong fucking house to try, the wrong fucking woman.” He throws Alex's body onto the center of the tarp and before he can even try to get up, he kicks Alex in the chest to knock the wind out of him.
The tarp is already going slick with blood as it gushes out of the bullet hole in Alex's cheek. Flip rips open the buttons of Alex's, taped to his body are knives that he must have smuggled out of prison. Makeshift torture tools, shanks and shivs that he spent who knows how long working on.
“Just kill me already!” Alex begs, but Flip shakes his head.
“No.” He grits out, yanking the duct tape off Alex's flesh as he tears the knives away from his torso. “No, that’s too quick, too easy for you. You don’t deserve that.”
It’s like an out of body experience, watching this. You step closer, placing a hand on Flip’s shoulder. He doesn’t recoil, he recognizes your touch, he knows it’s you.
“Flip, let me do the first one, please?” You ask, watching Alex's eyes widen far far far, so far that they’re almost popping out of his skull. You take one of the knives from Flip, slide it from his palm to yours as you whisper in his ear, “Please, I want to do the first one.”
“Go ahead, I’ve got him princess, my sweet girl, I’ve got him.” Flip encourages you, turns to kiss at your cheek, the soft skin by your jaw, your ear. Something about the praise, about the tone of his voice, the full faith he has in you, makes your pussy throb. Your thighs press together when he says, “Go ahead.”
Flip holds Alex in a headlock, and before the man can say anything, you’re stabbing him in the gut, hard.
The knife slips into his flesh easily, and you watch in morbid fascination as it sinks deeper deeper deeper, until it’s all the way in, piercing slicing serrated and cruel. You look up to Flip, half terrified for what you’re doing, and half enthralled. You’ve never done this before, you’ve never done anything like this before – not even the last time.
There’s no going back now, you both know. Not now, not now that there’s a knife embedded into his stomach.
Flip nods.
Alex screams.
“No one can hear you, no one will come for you.” Flip says lowly, dangerous and dark as Alex writhes shakes scream scream screams in his hold. “Do it again, ketsl.”
You yank the knife out and stab him again, a little higher this time. There’s muscle here, something, you don’t know, you never paid very close attention in anatomy class. You have to slam the knife in a little harder to get it through, the force of the impact blurring your vision for a minute.
“You’re doing so well sweetheart,” Flip’s voice is quiet, but loud. So loud in your brain, in your mind. He might be whispering, he might be screaming, you wouldn’t know. “Let me take over, you’ve done enough.”
You pass him the knife again, and he’s quick to continue what you started. Again again again, Flip stabs him, ripping the knife out and plunging it back in, slashing him up. You’re turned on, so turned on by the way Flip does this for you. It’s revolting, sickening, how wet your thighs become, but you love it, you can’t stop watching the way Flip’s muscles move flex tense as he kills this man for you.
The more Flip does it, the more cathartic it becomes, the more elated you feel.
Tears bubble up, well up in your eyes, but they’re not of sadness, they’re of relief.
“Remember how no one wanted you? How no one ever spoke to you because they thought you were a lunatic? Remember how I tried so hard to be a friend to you? I did everything I could for you, I stood up for you, listened to you, cared for you!” You don’t hold the words back, the volume of your voice growing louder and louder with each stab of this knife, the knife Alex had brought to use on you. “And this is how you repay me.”
Alex thrashes, rages against Flip’s hold. He kicks his legs out in fury, his eyes blank, blood choking up through the wounds in his stomach, pouring out of his mouth, of his cheek.
“This is your fault!” Alex screams, “Your fault! You – you led me on! You lied to me, I thought you were mine! You were supposed to be mine!!”
“I don’t belong to anyone.” You smack him sharply across the face for the audacity of his words, “But if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”
Alex hemorrhages on the floor, seizes, the toll of his wounds taking over him. The force he must have exerted in his screaming fit must have ruptured something, you watch him shiver and tremble uncontrollably on the floor, rolling in his own blood.
“I’ve had enough of your noise.” Flip says to Alex.
Flip grabs Alex's face, hooks one hand around his upper teeth, the other around his lower, and snaps the jaw clean off its hinges with a sickening crack!
It’s unsettling, the way that it hangs there, unattached by anything other than muscle, limp and weak.
He then reaches inside one of the cavities made by your stab wounds, and squeezes Alex's heart, strangles it, forces a heart attack, making him thrash and gurgle hot steaming blood in his throat, until it stops.
It all stops.
It’s quiet, again.
Flip lets Alex drop limply to the floor, the tarp crinkling, slick with blood. He pulls his hands away, smears the red against Alex's face to close his eyes. He doesn’t want him looking at you, not even in death.
“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking down at the corpse in your basement.
“Are you okay?” Flip faces you hesitantly. He’s covered up to his forearms in blood, chest heaving. He’s afraid of scaring you, afraid of causing you more stress, you can tell.
“Yeah, just,” You reach out your hands for him, your own blood-stained hands, hands that somehow, somehow feel more clean than they ever have before. Flip gently takes them in his own, you admire how broad and handsome the palms are as you look up at him and whisper, “I’ve been living with the fear of him finding me in the back of my head for a decade. And now thanks to you, it’s gone. Thank you – Philip, thank you.”
The tears are back, the intense relief of this nightmare being over hitting you like a ton of bricks. Flip crushes you to his chest, wraps his arms around you and lets you cry, lets you mold yourself to his body and tuck your face under his chin, lets you let him hold you.
“Nothing will ever hurt you, not as long as I’m around.” He caresses the base of your skull, pets your hair down, neither of you caring about the blood on his hands. He kisses your temple, “You understand me? Nothing, no one. I’ll kill them, I’ll kill anything that ever dares to try.”
You pull away slightly, just enough for you to look up at him with tears of love and relief in your eyes as you whisper, “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t hesitate, the taste of iron and salt on his tongue is intoxicating. He licks into your mouth and you sigh into his, exchanging silent I love yous in the way your lips move together. It’s slow, it’s unhurried, it’s careful yet fulfilling in all the best ways.
“I’m so wet for you Flip.” You mumble against his lips, bringing one of his hands to slip under your nightgown, for him to feel how much you want him, how much you want him to, “Fuck me, hard.”
“Not here.” He pulls your hand back up to kiss at your wrist.
“Phil,” you whine, worried for a second, but he just shakes his head sweetly and kisses your wrist again.
“No sweetheart, not here. Not where he can see you.” Flip leads you towards the stairs, bringing you away from the body, the corpse that bleeds slowly, steadily on the tarp. He doesn’t let you look back, pulls you slowly, gently up the stairs. “I don’t want him looking at you.”
“Take me to the bathroom then, the tub should still be full.” You remember suddenly, “Let me wash you clean.”
You smile at one another, Flip locks the basement door just for good measure, and up to the bathroom you go.
It’s strange, being back in the rest of the house. On your way up to the master suite you see the tracks, the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the morning. The glass from the sliding door, the mud, the blood. You’re too wound up to care right now, too focused on the ache between your legs.
But still, it will have to be dealt with.
Flip brings you to the bathroom, and the tub is still filled. He keeps the lights off, it’s so dark, dark everywhere in the house. Dark enough that this almost feels like a dream. The water, somehow, is still hot, and it makes you wonder how long you were even really gone.
It could have been ten minutes or a weekend, you don’t know. There are no windows in the basement.
Flip steps into the tub first, and you follow after, sitting with your legs straddling his thick strong waist. His cock is hard, it bumps up against your thigh as you settle yourself above him, trying to get a good position for you to sink down down down, the stretch filling you as his cock bottoms out.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’d do anything for you, anything.” Flip groans, dunking his hands in the bath water to quickly rinse them of their grime, before cupping your breasts as you sigh and moan softly above him.
“I know handsome, I know, I would do the same.” You bite at your lips, your hands bracing on his chest as he gets more comfortable in the hot water of the tub. You can only imagine that the water must be stained red, clear.
Something about that makes you anxious for a minute, so you unplug the drain and let it quickly empty, before plugging it and turning on the faucet once more. The pipes creak from the sudden demand for hot water, boiling hot, steaming hot, and Flip sighs happily as it soothes his tense muscles.
“You’ve got such a tight pussy.” He moans as he gets his purchase on the bottom of the tub and thrusts up slightly, pushing his cock further into you. “I could live here, I want to live here, ohhh fuck.”
You let out a little yelp from the feeling of it, of how he drags that cock of his in and out of you, how you can feel all the thick veins and ridges pushing and thrusting against your walls. You settle back against his thighs where his knees are bent in the tub, looking up at the small mirror that he bolted to the ceiling some years ago.
“Look how good we look,” You gasp as he thrusts faster, as you bounce on his cock, his hands on your tits and pinching at your nipples. “Look how nice we fit together, Flip, fuck – oh Flip!”
“So beautiful.” He sounds drunk, you think with a smile, drunk off your pussy. He watches his cock disappear in and out of you instead of looking at the mirror, and that’s fine with you because you can barely see straight as it is.
“Oh yes, yesyesyes, please, more, Flip!” You watch yourself get fucked, watch as your mouth drops open, as you bounce bounce bounce, his hands gripping you grasping you all over, holding you tight, fucking you fast. His hand moves somehow in slow motion to rub hard circles on your clit, making your body shudder, drooling all over yourself.
You come, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the relief, maybe it’s the sheer power and strength of the man underneath you, but when you come it’s like firecrackers in your veins, sparking up and shooting up your spine, making you gasp sharply, loudly.
“Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it.” He snarls, close to an orgasm himself, just teetering right over the edge.
You move your hips in little circles that make his head thunk back onto the rim of the tub, make him whimper and snap his teeth together as his thrusts fuck you through the bliss of orgasm.
“Flip, Flip – Phil! Philip oh, yes, yes!” You shout shout shout until your voice breaks and it goes up to a high pitched scream, the feeling of his cock throbbing pulsing spilling inside you enough to make you dizzy.
“Shit.” He groans low and dark as he bites down hard on your throat, hands squeezing and kneading your tits.
And then there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing once again. But this time, this time it’s bliss, sheer and utter joy that permeates from his body into yours as he comes down from his high.
You smile down at him, big grin, so happy, tucking his wet hair behind his ears as you shut the faucet off. The tub is filled to the brim, water sloshes over the side of the porcelain, but you don’t care. Your body is still tingling, nerves on fire, warmed inside and out.
Flip gives you that doe eyed look of his again, and you once again cannot help but think how handsome he is. You huff out a laugh, how surreal the entire ordeal was. You wonder if you’ll scream, if you’ll cry, if you’re just in shock.
You don’t feel like you’re in shock, you feel like you’re flying.
“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks, reaching up a finger to caress the bridge of your nose.
You both break out into absurd giggles, and you shrug, reaching across the tub to grab his pack of camels. The little match glows redorangeyellow when you light it, and the both of you stare at the small flame as you bring it to the cigarette you’ve stuck between your lips. It burns the edge of the cigarette, and when the tip glows red you pass it to Flip, to your husband.
There’s a sizzle as you drop the match into the bathwater.
“What are we gonna do?” You ask him, voice broken, barely above a whisper.
“About what, ketsl?” Flip hums, breathing smoke thick and heavy out of his mouth and nose on the exhale. It travels up up up and clings to the mirror on the ceiling, the mirror that’s now foggy with the hot steam of the bath.
“The body in our basement.” You reply casually, as if you were asking what he’d like for lunch.
He shifts a little, more water sloshes around. If there were more light in the bathroom, if it weren’t so dark, you might be able to watch it wash away the blood on the tile, thinning it out until it disappears.
“Don’t worry about that.” Flip whispers, his hands rubbing soothingly against your back, your sides. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You won’t get in trouble?” For the first time your voice wavers, the thought of anyone taking your husband away from you dripping like a cold terror down your spine.
“No one’s going to find out, I promise.” He shakes his head, assuring and reassuring you.
You have every reason to believe him, to trust him, so you do. Wholly and completely, you do.
---------------
The next morning you wake up alone. It’s early, but that’s just because you’re used to waking up early with Flip and his job. The alarm clock is ringing, and you have to roll over to Flip’s side of the bed to turn it off. Carefully, you slip out of bed and tip-toe downstairs, blinking in surprise at what you find.
There’s no mess anywhere. Nothing, no mud no blood no prints or marks. You creep down to the basement, find it perfectly clean and empty. The only sign of trouble is the broken sliding door, but even that has been taped up with big pieces of paper, all the glass swept away.
Flip comes home then, the front door opening and closing softly. Tucked under his elbow is a brown paper bag, the smell of freshly baked bagels filling the living room as you go to meet him.
“Clyde knows a guy who’ll come fix the door.” He says after he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning.
“Clyde knows?” You take the bag from him and go over to the kitchen, him following hot on your heels like the duckling that he is.
“It was my turn for a cauliflower.” Flip smiles against your cheek as he smooches his favorite spot there again and again and again, as you pop a bagel into the toaster, wanting him to have at least something small to eat before he has to go to work.
“I’ll swing by the bar later, bring him lunch.” You resolve, thankful for your friends.
“Keep an eye out for the three o’clock news.” He whispers, even though there’s no one there to be listening. He turns you to face him, kissing you properly, soundly on the lips, “Love you ketsl, I’ll be home early tonight.”
You grin at him, not bothering to flinch when the bagel pops out of the toaster, and slather cream cheese and lox on it for his drive over to the station.
He’s got an icy cold Shirley temple waiting for you when you walk into Duck Tape, Clyde does. Clyde doesn’t ever really smile much, he’s too much like Flip that way, but he looks at you warmly, opens his arms up for you as you walk behind the bar and give him a tight hug.
“Hey darlin’, I was hopin’ you’d come round.” Clyde taps his knuckles under your chin playfully.
“Heard you helped my man out today.” You offer him a nicely packaged lunch and a smile.
“Wasn’t no trouble at all.” He replies. Even though there’s few patrons in the bar at this time of day, he still keeps his voice down. Thankfully Clyde’s always been soft spoken, no one pays it much mind.
The news turns on then, a breaking report just out of town. You and Clyde both force yourself to be as casually interested as possible, as a woman in a blazer stands just outside a line of yellow tape and police cars – cars you recognize, one car in particular that you recognize – explaining how a convict had escaped and was found mauled to death by a wild bear late last night.
“Damn,” One of the regular men at the bar whistles, “What kinda bad luck? Breaking out of jail and gettin’ killed after not ten minutes of freedom.”
“Pretty bad.” You reply with a nod.
“To better luck.” The drunk raises his beer and tilts it towards you.
You grin, pick up your shirley temple and clink the glass against his.
“To better luck.”
#flip zimmerman#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman/reader#flip zimmerman x you#flip zimmerman/you#dark!flip#flip zimmerman smut#flip zimmerman angst#blackkklansman#flip zimmerman fanfiction#flip zimmerman fanfic
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Only the Good Die Young (Part 5)
Summary: You were torn. Bucky had let you down, but maybe you were expecting too much of him.
Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, implied domestic violence
Author's Note: Back on the wagon with ‘You May Be Right’. I’m sure everyone else is definitely as invested in this whole Billy Joel thing as I am...
---
Bucky’s grip on your hands tightened to the point of being slightly painful. You could almost hear the cogs whirring in his head as he tried to figure out how he could make everything better.
‘You know I’d never hurt you on purpose, right?’ You took a deep breath and nodded in response, eyes still fixed on the ground. ‘I didn’t even think, I can’t believe I did that to you.’
‘You know, you really don’t owe me anything Buck. Just please don’t let me rely on you if you can’t handle it.’
The two of you sat in silence for a minute, hands still tangled together. You hesitantly flicked your gaze up to his face, only to see him looking completely dejected, staring at his thumb as it brushed gently over your fingers. Seeing him like that hurt a lot, but you were determined not to let your heart win out over your head again.
He broke the silence with a timid half-whisper. ‘So what d’you wanna do?’
‘I don’t know, I need time to think.’ You paused and gave a despairing laugh. ‘God I’m so fucked, I told my parents I was going out to talk to the pastor.’
‘Don’t go back there. Please don’t.’ The sudden desperation in his voice shocked you a little, he was digging his thumbs into the tops of your hands. ‘You can still stay with me. I’ll give you space, whatever you need. I’ll sleep on the couch or even on the fuckin’ stairs. Just don’t go back.’
You hesitated for a second, gently tugging your hands away, before agreeing. He was right, you knew he was. Nothing Bucky could ever do would compare to a childhood of isolation and religious brainwashing.
As long as you had a choice, you’d never go back to them again- even if this was the only alternative.
---
By the time you reached his flat, you’d readied for a pretty tense evening together. The walk back had been awkward enough.
Glancing around the place, you could see that your hastily gathered clothes from the initial house escape were still piled up in his bedroom, but it looked as though he’d washed and folded them all whilst you’d been gone. The rest of the place looked a little better too, far tidier than when you last saw it. Christ, had he hoovered?
He offered you a beer, which you eagerly accepted, and suggested that the two of you try to unwind in front of a couple movies. You were exhausted and had planned to go straight to sleep, but switching off in front of a film sounded good too. Besides, with how you were feeling, you could probably use the company. Even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.
It turned out to be surprisingly nice, just sitting silently in each other's presence, eyes fixed on the screen. He was true to his word, giving you space by sticking to the armchair while you curled up on the sofa. You still felt relaxed around him despite the slight awkwardness, his flat was safe and comfortable and you were so grateful that he was letting you stay.
Bucky finally piped up during the credits.
‘I don’t think I made a very good first impression with your mom.’ He caught you off guard, causing you to involuntarily chuckle. ‘I hope she wasn’t too pissed.’
‘I think pissed is just her default emotion these days. They were both very fucking smug when I went back though, so thanks for that.’ You raised an accusatory eyebrow at him.
He grimaced slightly. From the look in his eyes, you could tell he was inwardly weighing up whether or not to vocalise his next thought.
‘My bad. But, y’know...’ This should be good. ‘Now I’m even more determined never to do it again, cause I really don’t want to give them the satisfaction.’
You rolled your eyes and sighed, turning back to face the TV. ‘Bit late for that one Buck.’
He flicked through a couple films but you decided it was probably best to call it a night there. Despite insisting that you take the sofa, a couple minutes later you found yourself tucked into Bucky’s bed on your own, trying to fall into anything resembling sleep.
---
The next morning, as you stirred awake, the first thing you noticed was the smell of Bucky on the sheets. The faint mix of aftershave, motor oil and cigarettes made you smile to yourself before you remembered why you were there, and why he wasn’t.
Yanking the sheet up over your head, you tried forcing yourself back to sleep, but noise from the front room made it impossible. It sounded like a mumbling woman’s voice. Ugh, Bucky must’ve had the TV on loud.
You gave up after a minute or so.
Your senses were still adjusting to being awake as you sat up and swung your legs out of bed, rubbing your eyes. You had half a mind to bang on the wall in protest at the noise, but there was no chance of you going back to sleep now. Crossing the room to where your clothes were piled up, you concentrated on the sound more and started to hear Bucky’s voice interjecting.
So, either he’d completely lost it and started chatting back to news anchors, or there was someone else here.
You quickly got dressed and pressed your ear to the door, listening to the faint mumbling, trying to make out any of the words. From their tones it sounded like she was upset and he was comforting her, but you couldn’t hear what about.
Christ, if this was one of his crazy ex-girlfriends or something that’d be the final straw. There wasn’t much more of this you could take.
You timidly opened the door and stepped through, catching Bucky’s eye and prompting him to stand from the sofa. He walked over to you, rubbing the shoulder of his guest tenderly as he passed her. You could only see the back of her head.
‘Hey, you sleep alright?’
‘Uh fine, yeah. What’s going on?’ Your eyes flicked between him and the visitor.
He gestured for the two of you to step back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. ‘It’s my mom. She said dad disappeared a couple days ago and turned back up at the house this morning, looking like shit, ready to take it out on her.’
‘Cause of-’
‘Cause of me, yeah.’ You could see he was pissed, harshly rubbing the back of his head. ‘He took the fight to someone who couldn’t fight back, piece of shit.’ He kicked the wall as he said it, leaving a pretty sizable hole in the plaster.
You grabbed his shoulders and moved yourself into his eyeline, attempting to calm him down. ‘Hey, she’s here now, it’s okay.’
‘Look, I’m really sorry to ask, but could you sit with her for a while? I don’t have a first aid kit or anything here. The store is just a few minutes away if I run, she-’
‘Go. It’s alright.’
As you walked back through, his mother’s head turned in your direction. You couldn’t hide your shock, her face was mottled with bruises and shallow gashes. She looked like she’d been through hell.
You felt an immense wave of guilt when you realised how surprised you were that, underneath it all, she just looked like a nice, regular lady. All Bucky had told you about her was that they only spoke when she needed money. Because of that, you’d sort of assumed that she was an alcoholic or a junkie. Maybe that was unfair of you.
She gave you a wide smile and glanced over to Buck as you sat by her. ‘Is this your girlfriend?’
‘She’s just a friend, ma. She’s gonna sit with you while I run out for a few minutes.’ He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and shot you a smile before jogging out the door.
‘I’ve never met one of James’ girlfriends before.’
‘Oh, we’re not really- I’m just-’
She placed a hand on your knee. ‘I’m so glad he’s finally settling down.’
You opened your mouth to speak, but decided it was easier to just nod. If it made her happy then you were willing to go along with it. It was the least you could do.
‘You know, he’s the only good thing I’ve ever done.’ Her words took you back a bit, you were shocked at her frankness. ‘He’s been through so much, thank you for giving him a chance.’
Ah, shit. There goes another wave of guilt. You tried to convince yourself that you just felt bad for misleading her, giving her false hope, but you knew that wasn’t really the case. Cause she was right, he’d been through more than you could ever imagine, and you’d bailed on him the first chance you got.
‘Yeah, he’s a good guy.’ You really meant that.
The two of you chatted for a little while. She was so lovely, it made you wonder how on earth her relationship with Bucky could’ve broken down. She asked how the two of you met and all that but, when the conversation got round to it, she was pretty shocked to learn who your parents were. Apparently she remembered your mother writing to all the other parents in your grade about her disgust at the inclusion of evolution on the syllabus. Sounded about right.
The downstairs door clicked open, and as Bucky came up the stairs you could hear him talking to someone on the phone. He pushed it back into his pocket as he came into the room.
‘That was the cops, they’ve got dad.’
After patching her up, Bucky said he’d give his mother a ride home. You stood up as she passed you, slightly surprised when she pulled you into a tight hug and whispered in your ear.
‘Please look after him better than I did.’
---
You waited in the kitchen for Bucky, so many questions reeling through your mind. That boy was going to spill his secrets, you were determined to get to the bottom of his increasingly complex past. It wasn’t long before he got back.
‘Thanks for that.’ He moved towards you from the front door. ‘Although, she does seem to be under the impression that we’re all happy families over here.’
‘Yeah, sorry, it was just easier if I went along with it. It also seemed to cheer her up a little.’ He gave you a smug smile, leaning against the counter in front of you. ‘Buck, do you mind if I asked what happened between the two of you? You said you barely speak, but your relationship seems pretty good.’
‘It is. I just… choose to stay away.’ Christ he was fucking cryptic, it was like trying to crack the enigma code.
‘Oh right. Just, from what you said, I thought maybe it was drugs or something.’
‘Nah. I mean she drinks like a fish, but she’s not nearly as bad as my dad.’ He sighed, seeing you raise your eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue. ‘She just won’t leave him, no matter what he does. I’ve tried everything.’
You nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I see.’
‘I love her and I help her out when I can, but it’s too hard to just stand by and watch how he treats her. I gotta keep a distance or I get sucked back in.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before? It’s good to talk about these things.’
‘You don’t need all my shit piled on top of yours.’ He dropped his keys on the counter and went to walk away, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.
‘She’s really proud of you Buck.’
A beaming smile spread across his face. He reached out and took your hands in his, pulling you towards him, looking pleasantly surprised at your lack of resistance.
He was definitely still in the doghouse, but you were ready to cut him a little slack.
‘I still can’t believe you got arrested.’
A little, not a lot.
He chuckled and cautiously wandered his hands up to your waist, ready to be swatted away at any moment. ‘You ever gonna let that go?’
‘Nope.’
‘I made it home alive.’ He slid his hands around your back and pulled you closer to his chest. ‘Maybe I’m crazy, but you might enjoy some madness for a while.’
‘You may be right.’ You smiled into his chest. 'But if you ever pull that shit and make me crawl back to my parents again I'll chop your balls off.'
'That’s fair.'
---
Part Six
---
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37. NanaHiko, please
37. “Because I love you goddammit!”
Consider this my sourdough starter for a Nanahiko Die Hard AU. If it ever comes into a fully-realized oneshot spectacular, well. Maybe for Christmas. Anyways, this is, believe or not, a break-up scene.
//
Fighting with Sorahiko is never pretty.
To clarify, Nana doesn’t mean physical fighting. They’ve honed that particular aspect of their partnership to near-perfection (always room for improvement), and when Nana has extricated herself from a fight, sometimes she has enough time to watch Sorahiko work his brutally efficient magic on loose ends.
That kind of fighting is pretty from a professional point of view.
Anyway, what Nana means is—having an argument with Sorahiko. It’s not the first time they’ve engaged in a war of cold shoulders and barbed words, digging up old insults and humiliating stories, resolved to leave reconciliation to the other party.
Nana has always thought it boded well that it never took a mortal injury to get either her or Sorahiko to apologize.
She is, however, very close to inflicting a mortal injury.
Sorahiko also looks close to committing partner-cide. They are spending a break from patrol by cooling their heels on a rooftop no employee bothers to spend a cigarette break at, and for the past ten minutes, have been politely exchanging words like, “Please do this,” and, “Fuck doing that.”
A full month has passed since Nana digested the whole conspiracy theory about a supervillain controlling Japan’s underground. En’s transferral of One for All had been traumatic for all parties involved, even if Sorahiko didn’t have to witness the horror that was the shoulder socket gushing blood and the half-buried body. Why? Because the first time Nana tested out her new Quirk, she had broken her notoriously hardy partner’s arm.
… It’s been a scary month all around.
“I’m not,” her partner grits out, “going to just quit being a pro-hero.”
“I didn’t say you should ditch the license,” Nana says reasonably.
“You might as well have!”
She rolls her eyes. “Splitting up for a solo career would probably mean better pay for you,” she reiterates. “Better pay, more taiyaki. You’d be a treat by yourself, Gran Torino. Any high-profile agency would want you on the payroll.”
“The salary isn’t the point,” Sorahiko snaps.
“And you shouldn’t conflate your position as a pro-hero with your position at the Eyrie! Don’t let the agency limit your ambitions!”
“What ambitions?”
“You know,” says Nana, gesturing aimlessly. She’s trapped herself with that useless encouragement. Sorahiko is so thoroughly unambitious, he would let a pet rock win an election to Prime Minister. “Whatever made you get into heroics.”
He stares at her.
“Get out there,” she adds. “Chase your dreams.”
“You’re being stupid,” he says.
“Don’t start.”
Sorahiko starts. His mouth twists into a snarl, eyebrows drawing together under the mask, frustration creeping into his posture. He is madder than she’s ever seen him, and Nana once witnessed Sorahiko yell bloody murder at his landlord. The landlord had been reduced to tears, and furthermore, had reduced the rent for the entire complex.
Nana does not intend to yield.
“First you inherit a transferable strength Quirk that knocks you out of commission for a week,” he says, “then you get all weird about tanking hits you know I can take, and now you’re advising I leave the Eyrie by myself? For my own good?”
“Yes,” she says, already feeling miserable.
“Are you on some kind of power trip?”
“No!”
His gloved hands curl into fists, mirroring Nana’s, or maybe she is mirroring him. Another side-effect of being friends for so long; she can’t imagine what kind of pro-hero she is without Gran Torino next to her.
A pro-hero that won’t drag their best friend into the worst conspiracy theory to come true.
“I won’t quit until you do,” Sorahiko swears. “Are we partners or not?”
“Partnerships dissolve.”
He flinches back for once. “You don’t mean that.”
“People sometimes grow in different ways. It doesn’t mean they’re abandoning their partner, it’s just… You don’t have any obligation to hold my hand for my entire career. If there’s a roadblock ahead, and you see it, you should be able to jump out of the car, right?”
“Shimura. Shut up.”
“I really mean it,” Nana continues doggedly. “One for All attracts way more attention than we agreed we should aim for, so if we split paths now, you don’t have to suffer all the cameras tracking and recording your moveset. Did I say cameras? I meant henchmen of some evil bastard. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Don’t tell me what I did or didn’t sign up for,” he hisses.
“Well, I have to guess,” she says, “considering I never saw your origin story, haha!”
His face goes a blotchy pink, starting with his ears. Sorahiko’s jaw visibly clenches. Nana, however, is one-hundred percent serious. Despite being friends with Sorahiko from primary school up till now (excusing the few years of junior high), Nana still has no idea what drives Sorahiko to be Gran Torino.
Reuniting in Class 1-A of U.A. High had felt a bit like fate.
“You have to guess?” he grits out, sounding slightly incredulous.
“You’re a very private person. Ah, don’t tell me I’ve somehow forgot it.” Nana puts her hands at her hips, trying to drag this fight back into friendly banter. “Not for the applause. Not for the legacy, assuming the Commission ever gets their memorial site set up. Are you sure it wasn’t for the money?”
“Shimura.”
“C’mon,” she says coaxingly. “What’s the dream-goal, Gran Torino? Why heroics?”
“Shimura.”
“Don’t worry about harming my feelings! Oh! It’s for your namesake, huh? Ah, Sorahiko, you really gotta let that one go, I don’t think you’d have any fun driving around these streets. You’ll just scare all the pedestrians into throwing tomatoes at your precious baby—”
“Because I love you goddammit!” Sorahiko shouts, barking it loud enough to frighten some voyeuristic pigeons.
“What,” Nana says. She has to process his words even though they ring in her ears. His confession is a curse. Typical Sorahiko, Nana thinks hysterically, except this is not typical at all. Torino Sorahiko, admitting to love?
Torino Sorahiko, not being done yet, rails on. “Because you’re my best friend, and I like myself when I’m with you, so stop trying to cut me out of your life! If you—if you hate me, then just say it! Say I’m annoying! Clingy! Useless! Don’t just tell me to step out the front door and leave you behind!”
Oh, he’s properly mad now.
Thing is, Nana’s mad too.
“Don’t you use that against me,” she says, fury seeping in, because how dare he? Like confessing to loving her settles this argument, some deus ex-machina device that will defuse Nana’s very sincere attempt to prevent Sorahiko from being murdered. She can’t believe the nerve of her partner, trying to manipulate the part of her that’s a hopeless romantic. “Don’t lie.”
“Lie?” Sorahiko echoes, enraged. “You think—?”
“I think you would do a lot of things to win a fight,” Nana seethes.
“You’re impossible.”
She wants to punch his stupid face so badly, but Sorahiko’s hands are already scrabbling at his domino mask, ripping it off. After blinking several times to reorient his senses, he refocuses his glare at her.
“What part of that confession sounded fake?” he demands, crumpling the black silk-composite in one fist.
“The timing. The whole concept. Everything!”
“You don’t think I’m capable of it?”
“I didn’t say that,” Nana objects, but her immediate gut reaction had been to say, I’m not worthy of it. She has a name for Gran Torino’s behavior now—his loyalty, devotion, affection—he tied himself to her so long ago, and Nana never even knew she was holding a leash. How unfair to him, how stupid and shortsighted of her.
Sorahiko takes a step into Nana’s personal bubble. He persists. “Say you hate me.”
She can see where Sorahiko wants to take this.
“Do you hate me, Shimura?”
Nana bites her tongue from its reflexive denial; when she tries to lie, it sticks in her throat.
“Do you really want me to go?” Sorahiko asks, and without his mask, he looks vulnerable. Pale brown eyes catching the sunset, gleaming gold. How much of Sorahiko’s life has been deferring his dreams to follow hers? What has he given up that Nana’s never asked about? Does he have any commitments outside of heroics?
“I think,” Nana finally forces out, “we need some time apart.”
One beat of silence. Two.
“You’re not joking.”
“No.”
Sorahiko breathes, a steady and barely audible sound, and Nana finds herself mirroring it. She crosses her arms and looks to the horizon. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sorahiko slowly uncrumpling his mask, smoothing out wrinkles with his forefinger and thumb. Methodical for a nervous tic.
“It’s not that you’ve done something wrong.”
“Spare me the bullshit,” he says. The bitter tone sends a chill through Nana’s heart, but she steels herself. “How long?”
“Long as we need,” she deflects.
“What’s the goal here?”
Nana glances at Gran Torino, notes the grim set of his expression, and restrains herself from poking at the down-turned twist to his frown. Instead, she says, “You said you like who you are when you’re with me. I don’t think you’ve ever really been without me, so… Figure yourself out, Gran Torino.”
“And Sky High?”
“We’ll shelve the idea for a later time,” says Nana weakly, as though running an agency together hasn’t been their—her?—dream since high school.
He grunts in acknowledgment.
Together, they survey the cityscape. They will finish the day’s patrol. Gran Torino will, for the first time, clock out early and storm home.
And Nana will quietly file her two-week notice.
There’s an international pro-hero exchange program being organized with the United States, and Nana intends to join. The probation period is a year; if Nana can make it through that, then she can apply to be a mentor to aspiring pro-heroes, all the while cultivating One for All on the side.
(She doesn’t mean to forget the confession. But then again, who knows if that’s really what Sorahiko felt for her?)
#bnha#nanahiko#shimura nana#torino sorahiko#gran torino#shih.txt#asks#anon#diehard!au#and YES sorahiko is cast as holly#and nana will show up in a few years#wearing a cool leather jacket#to the HPSC's Holiday Party#toshinori will also be present but he will unfortunately be made to stay in the car
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Search for the Sun 🌞
So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.
Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!
Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.
Takemura/Female V fic
Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.
—————————————-
Somewhere in the Mojave....
“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.
“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.
“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.
“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”
“With?”
“Dick.”
Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.
“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.
“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.
She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.
She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.
She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.
“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.
“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.
He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.
Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.
Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.
“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.
“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.
He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.
“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.
“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.
“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”
“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.
“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.
His car.
She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.
What the fuck does he think he’s doing?
-———
He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.
A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.
“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.
“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.
“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.
“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”
“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.
“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.
He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.
“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.
“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.
Takemura sighed.
“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.
“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”
“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.
She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.
“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.
“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.
“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.
“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.
—————-
Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.
“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”
He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.
She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.
“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”
“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.
“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.
“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.
Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.
“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.
It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.
But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.
“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.
V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.
She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.
“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.
“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.
“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.
They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.
Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.
“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.
“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.
“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.
“Bullshit.” Saul spat.
“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him
back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.
“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.
“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.
V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.
She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.
“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.
“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.
“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.
“Lead the way.” He chuckled.
“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.
He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.
“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”
She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.
—————
“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.
Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.
“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.
He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.
“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.
“Are you-?”
“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.
His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.
“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.
“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.
“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.
————————————
They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.
They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.
“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.
“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.
“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.
“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.
“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.
“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.
“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.
“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.
“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.
“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.
His eyes fluttered open.
“Is something wrong?” He breathed.
“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.
She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.
“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.
He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.
“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.
He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.
She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.
“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.
“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.
“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.
He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.
“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.
He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.
His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.
He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.
“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.
“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.
“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.
“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.
#goro takemura#cyberpunk 2077#takemura x v#goro takemura x v#goro x v#takemura goro x v#takemura goro#the sun#search for the sun
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not part of the deal ~ thomas shelby; peaky blinders
word count: 1645
request?: no
description: a potential peaky blinders business partner ruins his chances by making some off remarks about the boss’ girl
pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader
warnings: swearing, violence, hints of smut
When you first met Thomas Shelby, you received a warning from nearly everyone you knew: be careful of that man. He was dangerous, he had more power than one man should, whatever he wanted he got it, that included whatever he wanted from women.
You weren’t scared of him. In fact, quite the opposite. The first time he made an off colour comment towards you, you returned it with one of your own. You were with your friend at the time, who gave you such a look you were sure it could’ve killed you. Thomas, on the other hand, merely laughed at your comeback, impressed with your lack of fear for him.
It was safe to say you made an impression on Tommy, as just months after you first met he was asking you to marry him, and just days after that you were wed. He always said he was too afraid of losing a good woman to wait any longer.
When you were both wed, he made it clear that you weren’t just his wife, you were now a Shelby as well. Any business anyone wanted to talk about, they could talk with you as well. You weren’t to be harmed by anyone, unless they wanted to feel the truth wrath of Thomas Shelby. And everyone complied to this, nobody wanted to fuck with Thomas Shelby.
You woke up one morning after Tommy, as per usual. He was pulling on his clothes, to which you whined in protest to. Tommy turned to look at you and smiled.
“Good morning, love,” he said. “Or rather good afternoon. We’ve nearly slept the day away.”
“Well, if the day is already half over, why don’t we just lay in bed all day?” you suggested.
Tommy leaned over to kiss you. “I wish I could, love, but we have a meeting today. Possibly important new business partners, if we miss the meeting what would they say about us?”
“Nothing, they’d be too afraid.”
Tommy chuckled and kissed you again. “You’re too smart for your own good, love.”
You smiled and groaned upon realizing you had to get up. “Meeting at the bar, I’d assume?” Tommy nodded. “You go on ahead, love, I’ll catch up with you.”
With one last kiss, he did as you said. You buried your head in the pillow again, letting out a groan before finally pulling yourself out of bed. You got dressed in a pair of trousers and one of Tommy’s white button up shirts, leaving the top few buttons undone just enough to reveal some cleavage, something that drove Tommy wild.
One thing you never got used to was the reaction of people in the streets when they saw you coming. Huddles of people would clear the way for you, parents would pull their children out of the way for you, everyone greeted you as you walked past. You felt like you had such power, and all you really did to get it was marry into the Shelby family.
The boys were in their usual meeting spot in the bar when you arrived. You entered without knocking, nodding to John and Arthur before turning to Tommy. He had a cigarette raised to his lips. He blew out a puff of smoke and gave you a once over.
“Hello, love,” he said. “Take a seat, you’re right on time.”
The “seat” you decided to take was upon Tommy’s lap. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you to him. He leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You’re always such a fucking tease, aren’t you?”
“I have to keep you on your toes some how, love,” you responded before turning to the guests in question.
It was two men, very professional looking in their suits with their hair slicked back. They didn't look familiar to you, but you knew they were someone of importance if they were meeting with the Peaky Blinders. Or were striving to be, and were looking for protection.
“Gentleman, meet my wife,” Tommy said. “She joins us in all our meetings. Whatever needs to be said, you can say it in front of her.”
One of the men eyed you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. He had some balls to make eyes at Tommy’s girl that way.
“We’re just looking for some protection,” his partner said. “We’ve just opened our own shop, nothing too scandalous, we’re just a butcher’s shop. But we’ve been prone to robberies lately, people breaking in just to beat up our shop, roughing the place up, scaring our customers away. We know about your protection, that no one fucks with a place protected under the Peaky Blinders.”
“What else do you lot sell?” you ask them. They look at you with confusion. “No offense, gentlemen, but why would people break into a butchers shop? I understand meat can be expensive, but it ain’t expensive enough to rough up a butchers shop over.”
The man who initially spoke sighed and lowered his head, as if ashamed to admit. “We...we sell...we sell cocaine on the side. The only thing that will pay for the building, and for us to keep living.”
Arthur laughed. “A butchers shop as a cover up for drugs? I think that’s the best one I’ve heard.”
“We’ll give you a share if you want,” the man spoke again. “Of the money, or of the drugs.”
“We don’t want your drugs,” you told them. “They says cocaine fucks with your head, and these idiots here are already missing enough brain cells. They lose anymore and I’ll be the one running the business.”
Both Arthur and John made comments of disapproval while Tommy merely laughed. You shocked him more and more everyday with how natural you were at these meetings.
“We’ll take a share of your profits,” Tommy told them. “Give us half of what you make in a week and you’ll have the Peaky Blinders protection.”
“Half of our earnings?” the other man spoke. “For what? Just to say that you’re protecting us?”
“Louis,” his partner hissed.
"It’s real protection,” Arthur said. “If anyone tries to fuck with you, you call the Peaky Blinders and we’ll handle the situation, but we can’t do that shit for free.”
“Are you implying you want something more?” Tommy questioned.
Louis’ eyes wandered to you. “I want a night with the girl.”
The entire room went silent. Even Louis’ partner looked shocked at the request. Tommy’s grip on you tightened, protectively. You noticed the muscles in his jaw clenching. If looks could kill, Louis would be dead twice over.
“She’s not part of the deal,” his said between clenched teeth. Louis scoffed. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Am I laughing?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Louis said. “I’ve heard stories of you, offering up your girls to seal the deal if that’s what it takes. What makes this bitch any different?”
Tommy shifted you in his arms, placing you to sit on a chair as he rose from his seat. Louis’ partner shrank back in his own, and you could see the fear in Louis’ eyes, realizing what he had done.
“I said,” Tommy hissed, “she is not part of the deal. In fact, there is no deal. Both of you, get the fuck out of my bar before I throw you out.”
“Please,” Louis’ partner begged, “he does not speak for us. If anything, he’ll definitely be fired after this. Please, our shop needs protection, without you we’ll be ruined.”
“Scudboat,” Tommy called. The Peaky Blinder’s henchman appeared at the door. “Take this man here and show him exactly what we do to people that like to speak ill of a Shelby to their face.”
Scudboat took hold of Louis, yanking him up from his seat. The man kicked and screamed, fighting against Scudboat, who was easily twice his side. The door to the pub opened and closed and the screams became muffled. You had never felt less sympathy for someone as you had for that man.
Tommy turned his glare on the remaining partner, who seemed to be on the brink of tears.
“Get out of my bar,” Tommy hissed, “before I have the cops looking into your butcher shop.”
The man got up from his seat and rushed out of the bar. Arthur and John both sighed, almost bored with the whole meeting.
“Well this was a waste,” John sighed. “I could’ve been home fucking my lovely wife.”
“Run back to her now, Johnny, you still have plenty of time,” you told him, pinching his cheek as if he were a boy. He batted your hand away.
“She’ll be driven crazy with the kids,” he sighed. “I might as well go back and help her with them.”
As he left, Arthur stood as well. “I reckon I should leave the happy couple alone as well. I get sick being around the two of you, you’re too lovey.”
You chuckled and shook your head. Arthur nodded farewell to you both and left as well. Tommy closed the door, leaving you two completely alone. He turned to you and in a flash was kissing you deeply and passionately. He pushed you so you were laid down in the boothed section of the private room, moving from kissing your lips to kissing your neck and then moving down lower.
“Someone should proposition me more often,” you teased. “You’re very sexy when you’re angry.”
When he looked up at you, his eyes were still blazing with anger. He kissed you roughly again. “I won’t let anybody even think of my wife that way. If anyone else even looks at you the way that bastard was, I’ll cut their dicks off and shove them down their throats.”
You giggled and pulled Tommy in for a kiss. “I’ve never felt more safe in my life.”
#Thomas shelby#Thomas Shelby imagine#Thomas Shelby x reader#tommy shelby#tommy Shelby x reader#tommy Shelby imagine#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky fookin blinders#imagine#one shot
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Unexpected Love (2)
Chapter One |
Warning: none really yet
Word Count: 2.7k
"I mean, personally, I think you should let me go. I work in a shitty bar at a shitty wage, I'm in no position to be ratting on anyone." You tell Jaehyun, hoping that he'll see you're anything but a threat to him.
"You're delusional if you think boss will just let you.." Jungwoo begins before being interrupted by Jaehyun.
"Go. But just keep one thing in mind gorgeous. I'll be watching you." He smirks, nodding his head towards the door in a way of telling you to leave, probably before he changes his mind.
"Thank you." You whisper before quickly walking towards the double doors, as you hear a couple smacks, ows and Jaehyun calling Jungwoo and Mark idiots.
**
Over the next few days, you heard nothing from Jaehyun or any of his guys. You resumed to work as usual, getting home late, sleeping late and puttering around until your next shift.
That was until Thursday night. It was unusually busy in the bar for a Thursday and the other girl you were supposed to work with didn't show up, so you were alone. And you were slammed.
You were doing your very best to serve drinks, clean and clear tables, and take orders and make drinks. you were only one person. Almost everyone was understanding, except the one table of piss drunk men who were getting more annoyed by the minute.
"Hey bitch! Where the fuck is our beers!?" The one man hollers at you, laughing with his friends.
You ignore him. You'd previously told him you would get to him when it was his turn, and currently, it wasn't.
"I said we want our fucking beets." He yelled again, abruptly standing from his chair causing it to fall back.
"And I told you, you'll get them when it's your turn. I'm by myself here. Have some fucking patience." You snap before turning back to the table you had been helping, quietly apologizing to them.
"Fuck it." The man spits. "I'll do it myself." He says, moving from his table to walking towards the back of the bar.
"Excuse me." You say, moving over there to try and block his way. "You can't go back there." You tell him.
"I can do whatever the fuck a want, little girl." He whispers, moving closer to you. You walk backwards to get away from him until you're trapped against the wall. "And you can't do shit about it." He chuckles, leaning in close to you. You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" He whispers. You can smell the alcohol and cigarettes on your breath.
"Get off me." You say, trying to push him away from you, but he was too big.
"Like I said, I can do whatever I want." He laughs. You wished someone would help but unfortunately the only people really left were his friends and a few tables who pretended they didn't see anything happening.
"I believe she told you to get off her." You hear from behind the man, you faintly recognize the voice.
He turns around, and you step away to see Jaehyun standing there with two men you didn't recognize, looking terrifying.
"And who the fuck are you." The man laughs, alongside his friends.
Jaehyun chuckles. "A friend, if you will. You see, she's mine. And I don't like when people touch what's mine." He says, cocking his head to the side.
"Whatcha gonna do about it?" The man asks, turning around to grab your arm.
"Johnny, Taeil, go." Jaehyun says, his voice calm. The two men stomp towards the man, his friends attempting to get in the way but the two have zero issues taking them down before pulling the man off you and throwing him to the ground.
Jaehyun walks over, placing his foot on the man's necks, chuckling as he stares at the man panicking. "This is what I'm going to do about it..Brian." He says, opening the man's wallet. "You ever heard of NCT, Brian?"
The man gargles a small yes. "That's mine too. Now, I don't like you. You don't listen. And usually I kill what I don't like. Do you understand?" He asks. The man nods. "Good. Now you apologize to my girl, pay your tab with a hefty tip and pray I never see you again, because if I do, it won't be just you I murder." Jaehyun finishes, picking the man up by his collar.
Jaehyun and his two men sit down at a table and watch the men scramble to give you everything they had in their wallets and pockets, leaving you with a large tip and a smile on your face.
"Thank you." You say, standing at the table Jaehyun and his men sat at.
"My pleasure." He nods. "Although, I have to ask. How often does that happen?"
"I work like 6 days a week.. so usually like 5 days a week or so." You say.
He laughs. You wish you were joking.
"That's not going to do. Johnny, call Taeyong, tell him he's now security here." Jaehyun says.
"We really can't pay for security, our boss is cheap." You murmur.
"Don't worry about it." He half smiles.
"I gotta get back to work, finish cleaning up for the night but look.. is there a way I can pay you back for tonight and letting me go?" You ask. You've always repaid favors, it's just what you do. Although you weren't sure if you needed to repay him, you felt like you should.
"Actually there is. I'll need you to be my date this weekend to a club opening, your other coworker, Evie will be there." He says.
"The one who owes you?" You ask.
He nods. "I need you to bring her to me."
"I.. uhh.." you didn't want to be responsible for her death.
"I need to talk to her. That's all." He assures you.
"Okay.. I'll do it." You say. Honestly, you weren't even that good of friends with her and you were still kind of pissed off that she sat in the booth with a group of men and got pissed drunk, leaving you to tend the bar, serve drinks and clean.
Bitch.
"What club? I'll meet you there." You say.
Jaehyun smirks. "No, darling." He pauses, adjusting his jacket. "I'll send a car to pick you up and get you ready. See you Friday at 2pm." He says, giving you a small wink before walking out of the bar, leaving his two men behind.
"Are you guys not going?" You ask.
"Boss told us to stay and help out." The one says.
"You guys really don't have too.." you begin to say.
"Boss said we have too. I'm Taeil, this is Johnny. We're at your disposal." Taeil smiles.
Well, that sounded good to you. If it hadn't been for Johnny and Taeil, it would have taken you forever to clean up, kick everyone out and restock for your next shift. You were very grateful to Jaehyun, which also had you thinking a bit.. maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. Yes, he was a mafia boss, but he was sweet, and you couldn't lie that he was sexy. You weren't completely opposed to the idea of being with him, even if it was for one night. But if given the chance, you would likely decline. You didn't think the life he led was meant for you.
**
The next day you met Taeyong. He was thin and attractive, but had this aura about him that was terrifying. His first night there, no one thought much of him. So when someone grabbed your ass and wouldn't leave you alone, Taeyong was right there with a sister smile while he absolutely mangled the man.
No one fucked around after that. There were a few drunk frat guys who thought one of them should test it out, wondering if it was a fluke but ultimately they all pussied out, no wanting to risk any harm to their faces.
You thought it was nice having Taeyong there, although you got weird vibes from him on occasion. You'd catch him staring at you, with a blank but thoughtful look on his face. Sometimes he stood a little too close before apologizing and going back to the door. You shrugged it off, but kept a note of it in the back of your head.
When Friday rolled around, you waited outside your shitty apartment for Jaehyun, although you should have known better that he would send someone to get it rather than himself.
"He had a meeting." Johnny tells you as you get into the expensive car before peeling away to the mansion that awaited you.
Four long and excruciating hours later, you were ready to be his date. Your hair had been left down, while your face was full of makeup. A smokey eye with winged liner, along with bright red lips painted your face. You couldn't deny that you looked hot, even more so when you squeezed yourself into the tight black strapless dress, paired with a pair of black Louis Vuitton shoes with red bottoms.
You were nervous to walk down the flight of stairs, not only because of Jaehyun, but also because you, stairs and heels weren't really the greatest thrupple, and one of you was always embarrassed, and it was always you.
"Hold tightly." The stylist tells you, placing your hand on the railing before you went downstairs.
You took your time, trying to hold your head high while watching your step. You weren't of use to anyone if you fell and broke your ankle, or neck.
"You look stunning." Jaehyun tells you, with a slight smile, offering you his arm.
Without hesitation you take it, allowing him to lead you to the garage where he even opened your car door.
**
"Are you nervous?" He asks, as the two of you pull up to the club.
"A little." You admit.
"Find her, tell her you know someone in VIP and bring her up to me. Mark and Jungwoo are working the VIP door so they already know you." Jaehyun says. It didn't sound bad. You could do that. "And when you're done, go to the bar and drink to your little heart's desires. Tell Yuta to put it under Jung's tab and he'll know. I'll come down and meet you when I'm finished."
"Okay. I can do that. Easy enough." You nervously chuckle. "Easy peasy." You breathe.
"You go in. Tell the bouncer Jaehyun said to let you in." He tells you.
You nod your head and get out of the car. You're a little down the block from the club, couldn't risk having anyone see you and Jaehyun together, it might ruin the plan.
You walk for a few minutes, cutting the long line of at least 100 people and heading up straight to the bouncer.
"Jaehyun said to let me in." You whisper in his ear. The man steps back, his eyes wide.
"Yes ma'am, please go in." He tells you, pulling back the rope immediately while everyone else gets mad, asking why you were so special. You really had to admit, that was an amazing feeling. The rush of people doing what you ask just because of a name was such an adrenaline rush. You loved it.
Once inside, you headed straight to the bar before trying to find Evie. You needed a little bit of liquid courage. You noticed the music was loud, and the bass went hard but it wasn't overpowering. The air wasn't hot and sweaty like most clubs, so far you were impressed, but that's not why you were here. You needed to remember that you had a specific reason you were here for and you needed to stick to it.
Walking up to the bar, you find a small open space. Giving it your best shot, you yell for 'Yuta' hoping someone would turn around, and they did. Another extremely handsome man. Wtf was in the water here.
"How can I help you?" Yuta asks, ignoring the others trying to get his attention.
"I'd like a double vodka lemonade." You smile. "And I'm supposed to tell you to put it on Jung's tab." You say.
His eyes also go wide as he nods his head and leaves to make your drink. You sit on a stool facing the dance floor, keeping your eyes open for Evie. You wanted to get this done as soon as possible but you hadn't been able to spot her quite yet.
**
An hour and 2 vodka lemonades later, you really see her, dancing her heart out on the dance floor. You grin as you slide off your chair, partially dancing while you walk towards her.
"Hey girl." You laugh approaching her.
"Hey! What are you doing here!?" She squeals, pulling you in for a hug.
"I'm here with some friends up in VIP! Come, let's get a drink." You offer, hoping she takes the bait.
"Yes please! Let's go!" She laughs, grabbing onto your hand.
Hook, line and sinker.
You hold her hand tightly as you walk up the stairs.
You see Mark standing there, looking surprised that you actually found her. "VIP?" He asks. You nod your head. He walks to the nearest door, pointing to it for you two. You drunkenly pull Evie inside with you, where to her surprise there are no other people or drinks.
There's a desk, a large window and a few couches. The chair behind the desk turns, revealing a pleased looking Jaehyun. "Oh my sweet Y/N. Great work. Thank you baby." He smiles.
You feel the blush on your cheeks spreading. "You can go please." He smiles, shooing you from the room.
"Now Evie.." you hear as the door closes.
"Please.." you hear her say.
Your stomach is in knots as you think about what could possibly be happening in there. Mark seems to notice your hesitancy to leave. He slips an arm around your shoulders. "He doesn't hurt women. Don't worry." He smiles, easing your concerns.
You headed to the bar once you felt as though Evie would be safe. You didn't know what she did but surely whatever it was didn't warrant her to be injured.
You felt as though you could breathe when you saw her walking down the stairs, body fully intact and leaving the club. Now you could enjoy yourself, finally.
"Two shots please Yuta." You laugh at the cute bartender.
Without hesitation Yuta hands over your shots, which you down with ease before heading to the dance floor with nothing weighing on your mind. You felt a pair of hands slide along your hips with a body press up against yours. When you look back you're met with a face you do not recognize, but you don't care.
As you continue dancing with the man, your eyes wander around the club, and that's when you notice him.
Jaehyun. His eyes followed you like a puppy as you danced with the man. You watch Jaehyun watch the man's hands travel down your backside, squeezing your ass. He watched the man nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.
Your stomach twisted and turned as you tried to read Jaehyun's eyes but his face gave away nothing. He remained just as stone cold as before.
When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from Jaehyun to thank the man for the dance, telling him you needed to go now but before you could finish Jaehyun stood beside you, smirking at the man.
"Hi." He says to you and the man.
"Can I help you dude?" The man asks Jaehyun, grabbing onto your hand.
"No, you can't but I think I can help you." Jaehyun chuckles. "I don't like when people think they can touch what's mine." Jaehyun snaps, looking at the man's hand holding yours. "So I can help you let go, and help you get the fuck out of my club." Jaehyun finishes. He snaps his fingers and out comes two other men you hadn't seen before. They asked no questions before grabbing the man you had been dancing with and dragging him away without a care. The man had been pleading to be let go but they did not care.
"Dance with me?" Jaehyun asks. You hold your head.
He turns you around, your back flush against him as he wraps his arms around your waist, sweating you both to the beat of the music.
"What do I have to do to get you into my bed tonight?" He whispers in your ear.
A small smirk spreads across your face. "Keep going. You're on the right track."
#jaehyun fanfic#jeong jaehyun#nct 127 jaehyun#jaehyun#jaehyun mafia#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct 127 fanfic#kpop fanfic#kpop icons#kpop idols#kpop#kpop roleplay
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wolf in sheep’s clothing
Mob! turtles au
Turtles x fem! reader
Leo x reader
Summery: The turtles are 4 brothers who run the mob in New York and their territory is under threat since a serial killer (you) has taken up residence in the area. Bodies keep dropping and it’s being blamed on the turtles which is bad for business so they decide to do something about it.
Warnings: violence, mention of drugs and weapons, NSFW
((A/N I’m not a writer, I’m a dumbass with a dream to write some dark fiction so please save any nasty comments. Hope you enjoy))
__________________________
November in New York was always beautiful, the leaves become this vibrant burnt orange and scatter throughout the parks and roads, you can see your breath in the air and occasionally there’s fresh snow on the ground. Nothing quite tops that.
You sit in your regular bar, Paddy’s, and take another swig of the beer sat in front of you. You’re sat close to the door so it gets a little chilly with the patrons walking in and out creating a cold breeze but you simply shrug your jacket on closer and ignore it.
The city is at a pivotal point with gang activity, the mob known as “the turtle boys” runs most of up town New York- selling guns and narcotics to lesser gangs. It’s a dangerous time you think to yourself as you shake off the four sets of eyes you can feel watching you from the corner. You finish your beer and stand to leave.
Outside it’s dark and freezing, typical whether, you light up a cigarette, adjust your scarf and continue towards the ally that leads home leaving a swirling trail of smoke behind you; the end of the cigarette gleaming orange in the dim light.
You can hear the footsteps following you but you don’t quicken your pace. They’re free to do as they so please and have no idea who they’re messing with. Along with gang activity, New York has one other big problem at the moment: a serial killer. Their calling card? Strangulation. 7 bodies have washed up along the Hudson in the last 4 months all with the same abrasions around their necks from what the police suspect is barbed wire as well as stab wounds. You know it’s barbed wire, though. You’re the one who put them there.
The footsteps are gaining on you now and you stop in your tracks, take a deep inhale of your cigarette and turn to face them. You didn’t quite know what you were expecting to see but, the turtles boys wasn’t it. All adorned in beautiful, presumably expensive, suits they stare back at you with blank expressions but a slight look of worry in their eyes.
“Y/n L/n” the one in a blue suit calls to you. “you’re a hard girl to track down”
“laying low is my speciality. What can I do for you boys on this fine night?”
“cut the shit” the biggest one out of all of them cuts in. He’s wearing a black suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the pocket. Raphael you make a note to yourself. He’s going to be the hardest to take down. You smile sweetly.
“we can do this the easy way or the hard way” he finishes.
“do I look like an easy girl to you?” you turn on your heels and begin to run, if you can get them into the next ally way there’s a chance you can take at least one of the down before the others get to you, you think.
Out of breath and cursing never sticking to your resolution to do more cardio you make it to the next ally but the one you know as Michelangelo has gained on you and slams you into the brick wall on your right side.
“that’s no way to treat a lady” you say looking up at him, he grins, spits and decks you in the face. Everything goes black.
There’s a thumping in your head, you feel as though you have a concussion and your jaw aches like a motherfucker. Damn it you think to yourself, they’re more to handle than I thought.
There’s some kind of sack over your head that has a sheer texture to it so you can sort of make out where you are. There are cupboards and you can hear the steady drip of water so a tap must be near by, you assume you’re in a kitchen. You try and move your hands but they’re bound behind your back, the same with your ankles. Motherfuckers. You reach into the back of your jeans, you knife is gone. They must have searched you, they’re more thorough than you gave them credit for. you shouldn’t have underestimated them, you’re the one who likes to be underestimated. Just a sweet little girl, wouldn’t hurt a fly; you’re a vegetarian for fucks sake, who would think of you as the ruthless killer that you are?
you try and slide your arms under your butt to have them in front of you, maybe then you can get this bag off your head and see where you are. Suddenly, you hear movement
“She’s awake” one of them calls to the others. More footsteps and you know they’re all in the room with you.
You feel the bag being removed from your head, some of your hair being pulled with it but you ignore the slight sting that it causes. You’re face to face with Leonardo who’s crouching in front of you
“Now” he begins “I think it’s time we get better acquainted, don’t you, y/n?”
“I thought mobsters were supposed to be sweet on women. They Cray twins, Al Capone, all real nice when it came to ladies. What gives?” you say to him.
“you’re no regular lady” he retorts. “We have sources that put you at the scene of 4 of the murders that have been going on recently and we just need to have a little chat about what you were doing there. We’d hate to have the wrong person”
you scoff.
“Me? A killer?” you feign an innocent look. “Whatever are you talking about”
Leo stands up and you can really see his true height now. He’s an impressive man, about 6′4 and all muscle. That suit was really doing him some favours as well, you would water at the mouth but you had other priorities at this moment in time; staying alive being just one of them.
“what were you doing by the Hudson on September 6th when James Masters was killed” he asks
“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I wouldn’t kill anyone” you flash him your big doe eyes hoping that’ll score you some points with the big bad mobster. They wouldn’t really hurt a girl, would they? “I’m an art major at Columbia, I’ve got 2 brothers who need me” you try and summon tears but you just can’t do it so you settle for the odd sniffle instead “My mum calls me at 12 everyday and if I don’t pick up she’s gonna get worried”
A sharp smack flies across your face and you’re taken aback by the impact. You can feel liquid at the corner of your mouth and know that he hit you hard enough to draw blood
“Cut the act, what were you doing?” he repeated himself.
You take a moment to finally look around the room. There’s a table to your right with stacks of cash and guns on it as well as lots of tightly wrapped bags full of white power; cocaine you assume. The 4 turtles stand in front of you, Leo being closest, all with their arms folded doing their best to look intimidating. You laugh.
“I get the feeling begging isn’t going to work, huh?” you say
“Not today, sweetheart” the one who knocked you out, Michelangelo, replies.
“Well, would it please you to know that I was there to get rid of a body? That I’m the one who’s been ‘terrorising’ New York as the papers put it? or did I give that away too easily?”
“That’s not quite what we’re here about” the one in purple pipes up
“Oh no?”
“you see, James was an informant of ours and he had some…Information that could be very harmful to our organisation if it got out. And since he was tortured before he died, we want to know what he told you”
“let me see” you you paused for dramatic effect “I believe his last words were ‘no please stop, oh god no’. Does that have any significance to you?” you smile
Another slap. This one hurt worse and was making your already aching jaw hurt even more, you would definitely have a bruise if you made it out of this.
“looks like we’re gonna have to use the old school method” Leo states
“the old school method it is” Donatello agrees
He leaves the room for a moment and comes back in with a black bag which he opens on the counter. He takes out a white plastic sheet and some things that you can’t quite make out from the floor but they make a metallic twang on the counter when he puts them down. They’re going to torture me. Your heart sinks to your stomach. You aren’t a coward and you’re no stranger to pain, half of your victims put up a good fight and rough sex was prominent in your life, but you truly didn’t know any inside information about what the turtles operation held and there was no way they were going to believe you.
Donatello approached you, laying down the white sheet and shimmying it under your form so that it lay underneath you.
“look, guys…” you began “We don’t have to do it like this”
“A bit too late for that, don’t you think” Donatello replied as he pulled a scalpel from his pocket and pushes it down into your hand. You howl in pain and try and pull your arm away but his hand is already on your wrist keeping you in place.
“Just tell us what he told you” He states in an eerily calm voice
“He didn’t say an thing about you guys!” you bellow “I caught him tryna sneak date rape drugs into a girl’s drink and that’s why I killed him! It had nothing to do with you!”
They all look at each other and Donatello draws back.
“Even so” Leo began “He wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. I imagine he tried to make some kind of deal with you for his life”
“Yeah, that he would leave the city and never come back” They stare at you, unsure as to weather or not you’re lying. Mikey uses his arms to propel himself backwards to sit on the counter behind him; his legs swinging casually as he sits.
“So nothing about us?” he inquires.
Leo moves towards you, crouching down again so that he’s eye level with you; his suit hugging his muscles in all the right places. You decided to take a gamble.
“well…He did tell me one thing” you croon
“Go on” Leo almost whispers
Your hand was bleeding pretty badly at this point and a bead of bright scarlet blood dripped down between your fingers and on to the plastic sheet beneath you. If you wanted to live, you had to make them like you in some way. You lean in closer, almost nose to nose with the turtle’s leader.
“you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” you say in your most seductive voice.
He smiles at you, not quite sure what to make of your comment.
“I’m not following, little girl”
“Oh come on. Haven’t you heard that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Give me what I want, and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know”
He stays crouched in front of you, still staring into your eyes trying to gage weather or not you’re serious.
“Leave the room” he commands without even looking back at his brothers. They do as they’re told, Mikey sighing slightly as he hops down from the counter and Donatello picking up his black bag of torture gear on the way out.
“what do you have in mind?” his eyes are locked on yours and you’re so close you can feel his body heat from where you’re sitting. He truly was an amazing creature, all muscle and strength. It made you wet just thinking about what he could do to you. You place one of your still tied up hands on his knee and run it down his thigh until you’re close to his crotch and look back into his deep blue eyes
“Oh, you know. A little bit of hair pulling here, some biting there. Just fuck me raw basically” your forwardness gets you a raise of his eyebrows and his mouth forms into a bigger smile. He looks down and then back up at you and begins to untie the restraints around your ankles but leaves your hands bound. This is going to be good.
He runs his hands down your thighs and begins to undo the button of your jeans to slide them down your legs, you kick off your shoes to help him get them over your feet. His hands go straight for your underwear. This guy doesn’t fuck around you think to yourself.
Underwear off, he trails kisses down your inner thigh until he reaches your sex and parts your lips
“you’re wet already? Naughty girl” he jokes and you can’t help but blush.
He moves closer and takes one long lick between your folds exciting a moan from the back of your throat. He’s good at it, too, swirling his tongue in devilish ways over your small bead and occasionally sucking at it too. He places one thick finger inside your wet entrance and begins to curl it in pace with his tongue. you’re barely hanging on at this point as your orgasm is coming fast. He looks up from between your legs while still using his hand to draw circular motions over your clit
“It’s ok, babygirl. You can cum for me”
With one final stroke of his tongue and his permission your orgasm rips through you bringing tears to your eyes but he isn’t done yet. Moving up your body he lifts your top and undoes your bra taking his time to suck and kiss at your nipples. It’s as though he can’t decide which one he likes best but you don’t mind his indecision. You can feel his teeth pull the soft tissue of your left breast into his mouth as he sucks creating a small purple bruise and you humm in pleasure. He kisses your lips hungrily, inserting his tongue into your mouth just enough to taste the cigarette he must have been smoking before you woke up and you love the taste. It’s so manly. You take your still tied up hands to cup his chin as he does so and then move them down to feel his torso, His reptilian skin so rough yet smooth at the same time and you can feel his muscles twitch beneath the surface in anticipation.
He trails kisses and bites down your tummy before grabbing your hips and flipping you over, your face hits the floor but you don’t mind; you were guaranteed to be man handled and he did not disappoint. With your exposed ass in the air you can hear him behind you undoing his flies and you want to badly to look back and see him but the not knowing almost makes it hotter-that is until you feel him at your entrance. He’s thick. Almost too thick for you, he’s gonna stretch you open for sure and you can’t wait. Just as you think this you hear him spit and his fingers are at your entrance again making sure your wet enough for him. In one long slow motion he inserts himself inside you, filling you completely to the point where you don’t know if you can take any more. He bottoms out and you sigh in pleasure. He pulls out a little and then thrusts back into you hard over and over again at a punishing pace. His hands are on your hips but he removes one to smack your ass as he’s fucking you.
“harder” you almost beg
“that’s it baby, take all of me” he moans to you
the feel of the cold tile floor beneath your face is a nice contrast to the burning heat in your core and you know you can’t hold on much longer. He reaches around your body to play with your clit while he’s still pushing in and out of you at an astonishing rate while he takes his other hand and pulls at your hair forcing you to look up.
“Leo, I’m going to-I’m gonna” you practically scream before your second orgasm sends shock waves through your body. A few more thrusts and you hear him moan as he reaches his own ecstasy and cums deep inside of you. You almost collapse but his hands go back to your hips, steadying you. He pulls out and you can feel his seed and your own wetness leaking out of you and running down your inner thigh.
“wow, I haven’t been fucked like that in a while” you laugh
“I’m not done yet, baby” he taunts
flipping you back over onto your back you can see that he’s already hard again. Gods bless those mutant genes that turned him into whatever creature was kneeling before you. You don’t think you can take him a third time but before you have the chance to interject he’s inside you again and pumping in and out at an overwhelming pace. He runs his hand up over your breast to your neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, cutting off the blood supply to your head and you can feel your whole face redden with the pressure. He looks deep into your eyes, lost in his own pleasure. You’re mind is tingling with lack of oxygen and the force of his cock inside you and you’re close again. You slip your hands between your thighs and begin to play with yourself as he fucks you mercilessly, hand still at your throat. Suddenly your hands are pushed out of the way
“beg me to let you cum” he commands
you do as you’re told
“Please” you pleaded with him “I need this, I need it so bad please just let me cum”
He grunts as he thrusts harder, allowing your hands back at your pussy and you both cum at the same time. Bodies twitching in the afterglow of what had just happened.
He rolls to the floor beside you and lies on his back, both panting with exhaustion. He cups your sex with his hand.
“so, what did James tell you” he says as he catches his breath.
shit. you hadn’t thought this far ahead.
Fin.
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#leo x reader#tmnt leo#tmnt leonardo#tmtn x reader#one shot#mob! au#mob au#mobster leo#wolf in sheep's clothing#My fic
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Breathe Again -Chapter twenty-one
-Track of time-
prologue//one//two//three//four//five//six//seven//eight//nine//ten//eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen//sixteen//seventeen//eighteen//nineteen//twenty
Chapter Summary: Tommy continues to struggle with the news from Birmingham. And finally admits something to Alfie
Wordcount: 3,9 K
Warnings: suicidal ideation, disordered eating, discussions of mental illness, suicide and self harm,
”Go on, the weather’s lovely. No snow yet, but it could happen any day now,” Esther says cheerily as she helps Tommy sit up on the bed. It’s one of those days when he needs it. Alfie has left the room, and he can hear him pacing in the hallway. Heavy, impatient steps.
“Come on, get your scrawny arse out of bed, Tommy, or I’m coming in there to fucking drag you out by the hair. Don’t think I won’t.”
Esther huffs and rolls her eyes, but chooses not to comment. He sits there on the bed with her arm still around his shoulders, held by the secure weight. She’s not very tall, Esther, but she’s strong and sturdy. Perhaps it’s out of pity, this embrace, but he can’t reject the touch. Starved, craves it.
Tommy rubs a hand over his stomach. He tried to eat breakfast but the mud was in the way-
Esther squeezes his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?”
It’s too difficult answering questions like that, Esther knows and rephrases it. “Are you feeling sick?”
“He was sick, for a long time,” Michael Gray tells us when we meet him at his new office, “We’ve of course decided to keep it private, for the sake of the family. I took over more of the day to day work-“
Michael’s voice has become clear in his mind, an as real and solid presence as any of the others these past few days. It’s his own fault for reading the article so many times. Compulsively scratching a wound and refusing to let it scab over.
Esther asked a question.
He swallows thickly and manages, “No.”
Esther keeps rubbing his arm but he barely feels it.
Rumours have spread of Shelby’s deteriorating mental health, something Michael Gray only briefly touches upon-
“Are you sure? You’re looking quite pale.” She touches his forehead gently. The lines on her furrowed brow are blurred, everything around him seems to be enveloped in fog.
Michael’s voice continues to recite the article without missing a beat, “Unfortunately, the war left him with damages not even time could repair. And it began catching up with him. Which is how one can explain some of his less… rational decisions as of late.” One of these less than rational decision might be the choice to ally himself with Oswald Mosely, which-
He shakes his head, trying to erase the words, wishes they’d blur and fade like so many of the memories. They’re lodged like sharp pieces in his head. The worst parts he’s managed to wrap in enough fog to soften the edges. But bits and pieces still slip through.
“One has to remember they started with nothing, from an unfortunate background, so it’s no small feat, what Thomas has managed to do. Even if it’s been through questionable methods. Which of course is not something I can stand behind nor endorse, but it was before my time. Things are changing, now.”
Esther gently moves his hand away from his scar and places it in his lap instead.
“Are you sure you’re not feeling unwell?”
He shakes his head. Tries to say something reassuring, something that will make her happy, but the dirt is in the way and all he manages is a croaked ‘tired’.
Esther holds him closer. “I know, love. But it’ll do you good, getting some air.”
“We’ll go look at that tree you like so much, if you can manage it that far,” Alfie calls from the hallway. Heavy footsteps approach and soon he pops his head in through the doorway. Raises both eyebrows expectantly. His gaze softens when it takes in the sight.
“Just a short walk, to get some air. You’ll feel better,” he says and comes to stand before the bed, towering above him in his large black coat. “One step at a time, eh?”
Why is it so fucking hard? it’s never going to be better, it’s too hard, all of it-
“Alright, up you go then. And let’s see if we can put some more clothing on you because pyjamas are entirely inappropriate attire in this weather.”
When he’s pulled upright, he stumbles on unsteady feet. But Alfie doesn’t let him fall.
It does help, going outside. There’s no snow yet but the air is crisp and a layer of frost has encased the branches and the grass, making the world glimmer in the sunlight. It feels strange and nice, noticing it. And after smoking two cigarettes in quick succession, he can finally breathe. The mud has almost cleared away from his chest, his stomach, and instead there’s just frosty air with a smattering of salt. As usual, Alfie talks enough to drown out the sound of Michael reciting the article over and over again.
The sun is shining. And it’s daylight, many, many hours until nightfall when he has to lie there in the darkness and the voices become so much louder.
Alfie has a pleased smile on his face, as if this whole thing is a personal victory. Tommy likes it when he smiles. The realisation puzzles him. He glances at Alfie again, to make sure he isn’t mistaken. Watches as he scratches his beard absentmindedly, the rings glinting in the sunlight. His one good eye glints in the light too. Like this, he radiates peace and safety and Tommy wishes he could huddle into his coat, wants to be so close that his body melts together with Alfie’s.
When they get as far as the chestnut tree he’s so exhausted he has to rest. The past days inability to stomach anything at all hasn’t made him any stronger.
He promises himself to try harder with dinner.
“There you go, nice and easy, did so well, didn’t ya´? Didn’t faint or even swoon the tiniest bit,” Alfie mutters as he leans against the trunk of the tree.
He steps back to give him a onceover and Tommy’s hand instinctively shoots out grasp his coat sleeve. The moment his fingers close around the fabric he’s flooded with regret, but Alfie doesn’t seem to mind. That pleased smile is back on his face.
“Look at that, quite nice innit?” he says and nods upwards, where the sun is shining down between the branches. he closes his eyes and focuses on the rays warming his face.
When he opens them again, Alfie is watching him.
Alfie has a way of looking at him that makes something flutter in his chest. The scrutiny can become uncomfortably intense sometimes. Especially on those days when he’s all too aware of what he’s been reduced to, when he looks down at his awful hands and the ugliness seems to cling to his skin- But not when Alfie’s eyes are soft, like this. When he looks at him as if he’s-
“The same way you’d look at an abandoned fawn you found in the woods, with a broken leg,” Grace muses. “And you’re considering whether to shoot it or not, to end its suffering-“
Alfie’s hand comes up to cup his face. His rings feel cool against his cheek, but his skin is warm.
“You alright? Seems like something crossed your mind just then.”
“I’m fine.”
He wishes he could be more for Alfie. That he could do something to earn the affection he desperately craves. He’s not enough.
“You’ve never been enough for anyone. Never been able to offer anything-“
He closes his eyes, like a child trying to hide. As if he could disappear.
“Why do you think they never came to see you?”
“Tommy, hey,” Alfie holds his head a little firmer. “Eyes on me. Go on.”
He obeys, clings harder to his coat and tries to focus on the warmth of his hands.
“Whatever they’re saying, I suggest you try and listen to me instead. Yeah?”
Alfie accepts the tiny nod he manages as the only answer. Rubs his thumb up and down his jaw. Frowns. Tommy tries to count the creases on his forehead in search of distractions. They smooth out a little when Alfie makes up his mind and says, “Think that’ll have to be enough for today. Let’s get you home.”
He wraps an arm around his waist (“Just to keep you steady, eh, Tommy?”) and sets off down the path towards the house.
The sun still shines. Alfie lights another cigarette for him and then he tells him the intricate details of how swallows build their nests. Tommy leans in, ducks his head until it’s almost resting against Alfie’s shoulder. His coat smells like pipe tobacco and salty air. Alfie squeezes his waist.
Right then he wishes he could freeze the moment and stay in it forever.
…
He still takes refuge in the living room at night, when the nightmares wake him up. The past few days it’s happened too often.
Alfie tells him to wake him up instead, but he can’t. Reaching across the mattress and shaking him feels impossible, asking, demanding too much. He’s promised he won’t get angry but people lie, don’t they? We’re only trying to help, Tommy, we won’t hurt you, we’ll take care of you, you just need to rest, Tommy, rest, sleep, and it’ll get better, there’s no bullet there, all healed, see, look for yourself, nothing there, you just need to rest-
“This is why you need to listen to me.” Grace’s soft voice is clear among all the others. “You can trust me.”
It’s childish and naïve, thinking he’d be able to hide from her, from any of them, simply by leaving the bedroom. They follow, always know where he is. Grace is stood in the corner, by the bookshelves. The crow is behind her, on its perch on the shelf, still now, staring at him with glassy eyes,
still and dead.
“It’s not real,” Alfie reminds him. “Or well, it’s real, innit, but it’s not alive. Alright?”
And Grace is not real, he knows, he knows and still it doesn’t help because in the dark it’s hard to know for sure- and does it matter, when he knows she’s telling the truth? Real or not.
The darkness makes everything worse.
The darkness, knowing everyone else in the world is asleep, the sheer loneliness of it all. Even if Alfie is only seconds away. Esther too. He could be the only one left in the entire world and it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Please come wake me up if you need to, Tommy,” Esther keeps saying. A bit like Alfie, but gentler in her insistences. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep better knowing you feel safe.”
He usually nods, yes, he’ll come wake her up, even if he has no intention to. He wishes he could.
“I’m trying to care for him, but nothing seems to help,” Lizzie’s voice comes from the corridor, through a tiny gap between the door and the frame that casts a thin strip of light onto the dark bedroom floor. “I only seem to make things worse.”
“Not to worry, mrs Shelby, this is why I’m here. To help. Your husband is very sick, and it’s difficult, caring for someone in that position.”
“I can’t get him to eat. At all. Barely get him to drink either.”
“That is concerning, of course, but there are measures we could take-“
“And it seems like he never sleeps. He just lies there, staring at nothing and-”
He can’t wake Esther up either.
He’s already a burden, doesn’t want to make it worse. Knows because of their tired eyes, each time they have to lead him back to bed, the same tired eyes Lizzie had, they
“-don’t understand, don’t know how to help you, Tommy-“
That’s why they were sending him away, to that place the voices spoke about behind the door, where they don’t have to see, don’t have to be bothered, they can safely forget and move on. Build their lives back up, bricks upon bricks, it’ll be easy to fill the hole until it’s as if he were never there they’ll be happy to be rid of it
The pain is fresh and raw, torn up again by the words in the paper, the glimpse into a life he doesn’t have anymore, perhaps never had, just clung to with a white knuckled grip
“For how long can you keep doing this?”
How long? Imagining the rest of his life stretched out in an endless string of days has installed nothing but terror in him for so long.
The pain makes his body seize up and his fingers close around something smooth. He looks down to find the chestnut there in his palm.
And he thinks of Alfie. Of falling asleep curled up in his arms as he reads, walking in the snow, sitting outside when spring comes, the way Alfie talked about. That would be nice.
Maybe he still wants things that feel nice.
The thought sparks a tiny, flickering light that warms the empty cavity in his chest.
“What do you think he gets out of this? Having to care for someone like you, without getting anything in return. You don’t deserve any of this.”
The answer comes instinctively, “I know-“
But he wants it-
“Haven’t you gotten enough of the things you’ve wanted?”
“But-“
“Stop questioning me.” A twinge of cold steel creeps into Grace’s voice.
When the urge to dig his nails into his skin comes over him he squeezes the chestnut harder. Tries to focus on the smooth surface.
“I want to stay.”
Wants to stay, wants to be here with Alfie. It feels so strange to want anything at all, he’s not allowed to. For so long there’s just been this void inside of him. How could he want anything, then?
But he wants to be here with Alfie.
Grace’s eyes glint with ice in the dark.
“He’s going to hurt you. How can you not see that? When he finally realises how much it’s cost him, all of this”
He nods, hopes to appease her, can’t stand that voice. Even if the tiniest part of him wants to protest. Alfie wouldn’t hurt him.
“You know you deserve to be hurt.”
The chestnut lands on the floor with a soft thump. Instead, his hand grips a green vase that glimmers on the mantlepiece. The glass is cool underneath his fingers and it rests heavily in his hand. Shimmers blue in the faint moonlight from the window.
“It’s so easy, Tommy,” Grace’s voice is soft again. “So easy. With me you’ll get to rest.”
He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, fingers convulsively tight around the vase. Tries to will himself to put it back on the mantle.
“You can’t stay here.”
“I want to.” His voice cracks pitifully and the hand holding the vase is shaking, shaking wonders if his bones will crack before the glass does
“Evening Thomas. Thought we’d gotten an unannounced visit, but it’s just one of your ghosts again. Suppose they might classify as one, still.”
Alfie is standing in the doorway, seems to fill it entirely with his broad frame and Tommy wants to fling himself into his arms and cling to him but he’s lost control of his own body, gaze flickering back to Grace who is still watching him with cold eyes. Alfie walks up to him without another word, takes the vase away from him and puts it out of reach on the mantle.
He was so angry, that time when he broke the vase, even if it was an accident. Yelled and looked at him with hard eyes full of accusation. Now, Alfie just strokes his cheek. His fingers are rough and warm against his skin and he leans into the touch.
“ ‘s alright, hm? Yeah, you’re alright,” he says. “Look, I brought your blanket. There we go- c’mere” He wraps the blanket tightly around his shoulders, pulls Tommy into his arms, into folds of sleep-warm fabric, solid muscle anf softness that he can bury his face in. He’s been holding his breath for so long it starts coming out in harsh hiccups against Alfie’s chest as he rocks him back and forth. Slowly slowly, until he eventually says, “A’ight, let’s get you back to bed and away from the ghosts, eh?”
When Alfie tries to move him, Tommy finds himself frozen on the spot.
“No? Not ready to go back to the bedroom? Do you want to stay here for a bit?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t know- what does he want? Wants to be close to Alfie. But in the dark bedroom, there’s the expectation of sleep. Sleeping feels impossible, his heart is still thrumming so hard in his chest. Hammers against his ribcage, sending vibrations through his whole body. He looks at the floor, searches for the chestnut he dropped. Alfie’s gaze follows his and he soon finds it, picks it up and presses it into Tommy’s hand
“There you go. Now, you just sit right here-“ He leads him over to the sofa and plops him down onto the soft cushions. “And hold onto that, while I light a fire. Think you can do that?”
The surface is smooth and familiar under his fingers. He nods and pulls his feet off the cold floor.
Alfie lights a fire that chases the shadows into the corners of the room, bathes the room and his face in warm light that breathes life into everything. Then he seats himself next to Tommy on the sofa and pulls him into his arms again. Tucks his head under his chin.
“There we go. Suppose we’ll just sit here for a while, then. Can’t read anything I’m afraid, seeing as I left my glasses in the bedroom, but we can, yeah, we can just sit here and relax.”
He never realizes just how cold he is until he’s close to Alfie. Alfie is so warm. Warm and strong. Safe. Like this, he doesn’t have to believe the voices. Not any of them. Like this, he feels safe. The fire crackles softly and melts together with Alfie’s breaths into a soothing hum.
“Who is it that you see, hm, Tommy?” Alfie asks once he’s stopped shaking.
It’s not the first time he asks. They all ask. The answer is always lodged in his chest and too hard to get out. But now it floats dangerously close to the surface. His breaths tremble as he pulls them into his lungs. He worries the fabric of the blanket under his fingers, rubs the pad of his other thumb over the chestnut. It’s warm now from resting in his palm. He buries his face deep in the fabric of Alfie’s nightshirt. Until he can pretend he won’t hear him.
“Grace.” It’s surreal, saying it out loud. Even if he whispers it so quietly it might as well have been the wind. As if it’s not his voice, as if the reply is separate from himself.
“And she speaks to you? When you see her.”
A hum is all he can manage.
“And what does she say?”
He shakes his head. No no he can’t, he’s not allowed-
“Go on, you’re doing so well.” Alfie mutters into his hair. “Yeah? What does she say?”
“Bad things.”
“Like suggesting you put a gun to your head, or break my glassware to potentially do harm to yourself? Or walk into the bloody ocean.”
Perhaps Alfie can sense that he’s sinking with every word because he holds him tighter.
“See that’s important, innit? Granted I don’t fucking know your wife, but it seems highly unlikely she’d be so fucking adamant that you hurt yourself. So I think we can safely say whoever keeps pestering you isn’t really her. Does that seem like a reasonable theory?”
He doesn’t have an answer. Grace, the real Grace, has gotten oddly blurred, the warm, rosy memories faded at the edges. It seems so long ago. And he was different then. Maybe a bit more deserving of her love. No, he never deserved it but at least he wasn’t… this.
The good memories hurt too much. He locked them away, tried to forget. And now it seems like he has.
“It’s my fault. My fault that- that she’s dead“
Alfie’s fingers wind into his hair and tugs it backward until he’s forced to meet his gaze.
“Did you hold the fuckin’ gun, eh? Logic like that is useless once you get into a business like ours. How many times do I have to fuckin tell you?”
“I might as well-“
“Don’t argue with me. See I’m a wise, wise old man, not to mention, a quite recently instated God. I’d be deeply hurt and offended if you decided to not treat my advice and wisdom with the utmost respect.”
“There are others,” Tommy says, still having to tear the words from throat to get them out. Alfie hums. Allows him to hide in his shirt again.
“Suppose it’s hard, having so many people in your head all the time But, I’d say that all things considered, you probably shouldn’t pay too much attention to what they are saying either.”
“Why?”
“Well, to put it simply, if they tell you to hurt yourself, you shouldn’t fucking listen. Or if they tell you- fucking hell, whatever it is that make you wander off in the middle of the night, or stare into the distance with that horrified look on your face.” Alfie pauses his increasingly agitated monologue and huffs out a harsh breath through his nose. He combs his fingers rhythmically through his hair in the way that always makes Tommy feel as if he could melt. Now, it at least soothes his wracked nerves. Alfie sighs. “Whatever they’re saying it’s not worth listening to.”
“They’re right.”
Grace might’ve loved him, even if he didn’t deserve it. Maybe Lizzie did too. For short while, at least. Before he destroyed that too. There’s something wrong with him, something ugly and black and broken that makes it impossible to love him. Even Ada said so, everything he touches-
Alfie’s eyes glint in the light of the fire as he grasps his chin and nudges his head up. He focuses on the clear one, the one that isn’t a reminder of-
“They don’t fucking matter,” he says, voice sharp. “Fuckin’ ghosts and spectres. They’re not real and they don’t matter, you hear me?”
“It’s hard. Knowing what’s real.”
Alfie nods and guides his head back against his chest, his touch gentle again. His head is cradled in his palm, warm breaths in his hair as he whispers, “This, this is real.”
And with the sound of Alfie’s heartbeat and the crackling fire in his ears, Tommy closes his eyes.
…
The next thing he becomes aware of is that he’s floating. At least it feels like that at first. But he’s anchored in a set of two strong arms, head still propped against a familiar chest. Floorboards creak underneath heavy steps. He tries to open his eyes, but they’re too heavy. Shifts the tiniest bit to bury his face in soft fabric.
“Shh, shh, settle down. Settle down, I’ve got you.”
Alfie hushes him and rocks him ever so slightly, pulling him slowly back into sleep as he’s carried through the house.
The voices and the mud can’t reach him here, in Alfie’s arms.
#Tommy/Alfie#Tommy Shelby#Alfie Solomons#peaky blinder fanfic#breathe again#suicide tw#self harm tw#disordered eating tw
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(If you haven't already) Is it okay to ask if you can do a companions react to Danse being a synth? I have been looking for something like that for a while...
Cait: “You know, it is a damn shame. I bet under all that power armor and testosterone, he’s pretty cute.”
Sole chuckled, but attempted to hide it by frowning. It did not work. “Cait, this is a serious issue. We’re talking about a man’s life on the line here.”
“I am being serious. Are you saying you don’t think he’s good-looking under all that?”
“Well, I’m not saying that.” They opened another bottle of beer for each of them. “I happen to have actually seen him out of power armor. The view’s not bad, I guess.”
It was Cait’s turn to laugh as she accepted the beer, and after a moment, laid her head against sole’s shoulder. Why not, right? It was late, they were both a little tipsy, and what was the harm in a little gossip between friends?
“So, are you going to kill him?”
“Hopefully, he’ll be able to leave the Commonwealth, or at least find some peace here. I think Preston will take care of him, and working with the Minutemen will help.”
She frowned against their shoulder, not content with their response, and for a moment they were both quiet. The only sound in the night air was that of a light breeze through the grass, and a few chirping bugs. It was almost peaceful.
“I don’t get why you’d vouch for him. He’s a synth. Better off dead, if you ask me.”
“It’s complicated.” They pressed a cheek to her hair. “It will be hard to kill him, if I have to.”
“Reckon he’s taken care of that for you by this point?”
They sighed and took another drink from their beer. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but honestly, I’d rather discuss something else. It’s too nice a night for talk like this.”
Cait happily agreed and turned the conversation to other things.
Curie: She wanted to understand. Really, she did, but the things sole was saying just didn’t make sense.
“I do not understand why he would be so upset. Surely to be a synth is a good thing, no? I am very happy to have this body, synthetic though it may be.”
“Danse’s case is different, Curie. He thought he was a human.”
“But he is the same man, synth or no. What difference does it make? Though he has been indoctrinated to a certain way of thinking during his time with the Brotherhood, he must accept his true nature.”
“And he will. It’s just going to take some time for him to adjust. Just like it took time for you to get used to your new body.”
She hummed, curling her fingers into the grass. “I suppose that makes sense. It is a new way of life for him.”
“You get it. He’ll get used to the idea eventually.”
“Oh, but I had you to help me.” Gently, she nudged them with her shoulder. “There must be some way in which we can help him, yes? Some exercise or task that he could do to improve his mindset? Before, we could have perhaps sought the council of a therapist, but finding one seems unlikely these days.”
They laughed softly beside her and agreed. “Maybe you could teach him how to make some of the more science-based weapons mods. Exposure to other synths could help.”
“A wonderful idea! Perhaps I could even discuss with him an automatic chems applicator for his power armor suit...”
She continued on, bouncing ideas off of sole, and hoped that at least one of them would work.
Deacon: “You’re kidding.”
“Cross my heart.” Sole rather dramatically traced an “X” over their sternum. “He’s a synth.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Deacon rocked back on his heels, trying to remember if maybe Danse had been through the Railroad before. There was something awfully familiar about his face, but that could just be because Deacon had seen him around before. After all, he’d met a lot of people; he couldn’t be expected to remember all of their names.
“I was gonna ask Dez or Tom if maybe he was one of yours. It might be easier to know he escaped, rather than that he’s a replacement, you know? Might make him feel more human.”
“Sure, I can ask around.” In the back of his head, Deacon was still trying to remember is the designation M7-97 was familiar. “Someone will remember if he came through. Hell, Amari alone might be able to help.”
They nodded thoughtfully. “I was planning to stop by Goodneighbor anyway. It might not hurt to check in with her.”
“No harm in it. Just, you know, don’t get your hopes up. A lot of people get replaced in the Commonwealth. It happens every day. There’s no shame in being a replacement, either.”
“I know that, but he doesn’t.” They huffed in a way that perfectly portrayed their desire to help and their frustration with the situation. “I just want to give him what peace of mind I can.”
“And that’s very noble of you, boss.” He adjusted his sunglasses to wink at them over the top of the frame. “But be sure to tell him that, if he wants to start all over again, we’d be happy to help out.”
They chuckled, gently punching his arm. “I don’t think I’d ever convince him to do that, but I’ll make sure he knows.”
Gage: “We are killing him, right?”
Sole shot him a glare out of the corner of their eye. “That’s the third time you’ve asked. How many more times do you have to be told?”
“I just don’t want you getting any doubts in your head, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m not. And if you keep bothering me about it, I’ll go take care of it on my own. Is that clear?”
He rolled his eye. They’d been testy ever since they’d gotten the news, which was annoying. It wasn’t like the Brotherhood was good for anything, anyway. What did it matter if they were going to kill one of them. If he had his way, they’d kill the whole lot and be done with it, but sole insisted they still had a use, and they were the boss.
“It’s stupid to run,” he said, kicking at a rock in his path. “He has to know we’ll find him. He can’t hide forever.”
“He was scared. You’d run, if you heard I was after your head.”
“Fuck, of course I would. Difference is, I’d run straight the hell out of the Commonwealth and hope whatever I did wasn’t so bad you’d want to chase me.”
“To be fair, he doesn’t know that it’s me they’re sending. Maxson doesn’t even really know where he is, at least, not yet. They’re probably following us.”
“So let’s kill them.”
“Not yet.”
“It’s always, ‘not yet,’“ he huffed.
They shot him a look that clearly said he was testing their patience. “And until I say it is time, you’re gonna keep your finger off the trigger. Otherwise, you better start running now. I promise not to chase you past the Commonwealth.”
He shuddered at the thought of the Overboss tracking him out of town, and shook his head. “I just do what you tell me. You say, ‘don’t shoot,’ and I won’t.”
“Damn straight.”
Hancock: This had to be one of the strangest days Hancock had had in a long time.
“We’re talking about the same Danse, right? Tall, wears a can around, fluffy hair? Hates my guts?”
“That’s the one.”
“Him. He’s a synth. The guy who hates all ghouls, synths, supermutants, you name it, he’s the one out of all of us that turns out to be a synth.”
“I saw the data with my own eyes.” They shook their head. “There’s no faking that kind of stuff. He’s a synth.”
“Damn.”
He leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the slowly rotting ceiling. Slowly, he reached over to put his hand on top of theirs.
“So, what are you gonna do?”
“They told me to kill him, but-” They sighed. “I want to at least hear him out, first. He deserves that much.”
“Well, let’s get going, then.” He stood, dusting off his jacket. “I’d hate to keep crew-cut waiting.”
“You don’t have to come. I know you two haven’t ever really gotten along.”
He snorted. “That’s an understatement. But, even if he and I aren’t pals, I’m not about to leave you high and dry. If we’re gonna do something, we’re gonna do it together, right?”
“Right.” With a sigh, they stood, pulling their bag up with them. “Let’s go.”
MacCready: “You have to admit that it’s a little funny.”
“It is not,” sole chided. “He’s had his whole life ripped away from him. It’s not a laughing matter.”
“You can’t say it isn’t ironic, at least.”
They huffed. “I suppose I can see the irony. But that doesn’t make it funny.”
“Maybe not in your eyes.”
They whacked him with a rolled-up Boston Bugle, pulling the swing back at the last minute so it barely tapped him. Still, there was a hint of a smile on their face.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Mac. You’re a lost cause.”
“Probably.” He rifled through his pockets for his lighter. “But speaking of lost causes, what are you going to do about the tin can? Maxson told you to kill him, didn’t he?”
They nodded. “I suppose we’ll trek out there to Listening Post Bravo. At the very least, that’s where we’d have to go anyway. I just wondered if you had any thoughts about it.”
“No thoughts here. You point, I shoot. Just say the word.”
They folded their arms. “No thoughts? None at all? That doesn’t sound like you.”
He stuck his tongue out at them, still trying to light his cigarette. “No. The guy’s a synth. Do with that what you will.”
“Fine.” They stuck their tongue out back. “Then let’s get going.”
Nick: “Is he doing alright?”
Both he and sole glanced across the street to watch Danse fiddle with his power armor, something he’d been doing for damn near an hour. Nick didn’t think he’d done anything productive except maybe clean a rusty pin.
“He’s hanging in there.” They leaned back against the steps. “It’s not easy, but I don’t think anyone thought it would be.”
“Gotta admit, I’m not so sure I should be here. I might just be making things worse on him.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe it’ll help warm him up to the idea.”
He shot them a deadpan look that he hoped read as unimpressed. “With a mug like this? Likely story.”
“I happen to like that mug of yours fine, so hush.”
They both turned back to the former Paladin in question, who was still staring at his power armor. Nick really did feel bad for the guy. It was hard to realize the things you thought you knew weren’t yours to begin with. He ought to know.
“He’ll be alright,” he said, attempting to provide some reassurance to his partner. “If there’s anything I can do...”
That earned him a smile. “Thanks, Nick.”
“Sure, anytime. Just make sure that you remember helping him sometimes might include telling me to beat it. I doubt anyone looks at me these days and wishes they were a synth, too.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m pretty sure what you look like is the furthest thing from his mind.”
He hummed noncommittally and returned to watching.
Piper: “You’re not going to do it.”
“Piper...”
“Blue, you can’t. He should at least have a chance to live his life in peace, right? Preston could recruit him to the Minutemen or something. It doesn’t have to end in violence.”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ll need the facts, first.”
“But he’s your friend. You’re not just going to kill him because he’s a synth. Nick’s a synth, too, isn’t he?”
“Piper.”
“I’m just telling you the truth. If he’s your friend, you should give him the chance to explain himself, and let him go. Not all synths are bad, and he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. A little misguided, maybe, and he’s probably got a little too much machismo for his own good, but that’s not a reason for him to die.”
“Piper, I’m not killing him.”
“Well, good!” She pulled her cap up out of her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“It’s just not going to be easy to convince him that I shouldn’t. The Brotherhood is all he has. When Maxson makes an order, he follows it without question, without fail. We’ll have to show him that an exception can be made in this case.”
“That’s the spirit, Blue. There’s nothing wrong with going against orders every now and then, right?”
They laughed. “Piper, I don’t think you’re the type of person who’s ever followed orders.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that...”
Preston: “Danse, do you have a minute?”
Former Paladin Danse looked surprised to see him. Carefully, he set the gun he was working on cleaning to the side.
“I suppose so. Is there a problem, Garvey?”
Already defensive. It hurt Preston to see a man, who had once been so confident and proud, suddenly feeling so afraid. Though he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have Danse on the side of the Minutemen, the circumstances were unfortunate, to say the least.
“Not at all. I just wanted to thank you for the effort you’ve been putting in around here. I know that everyone else appreciates it, too.” Gently, he rested a hand on Danse’s arm. “We’re all glad that you’re here, and if there’s anything you need, or any way I can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Though Danse avoided his gaze, he could see a touch of relief on his face. “It’s the least I can do. After all, you’re all putting yourselves in the line of fire by harboring me here.”
Preston shook his head. “We just want to make sure you have a place to call home, Danse. You’ve been dealt a rough hand, and I wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”
“I’m... as expected, I suppose. Staying busy has been good. It’s nice to work.”
“The work helps?”
He nodded. “It’s difficult to be caught up in my own thoughts when I’m completing a task that requires my full attention. I appreciate that.”
“Well, there’s plenty of work to be done around here.” He patted the metal arm of the armor. “If you ever want to do some work for the other settlements, there’s plenty to be done. County Crossing just sent word about some ghouls. I was going to let the General know when they got back, but if you want it first, just say the word.”
“Certainly. I appreciate the consideration.”
He nodded, and though they went to their separate tasks, Preston did feel a little bit better.
X6: “So what are we supposed to do with him?”
Sole shrugged as they opened up a box of snack cakes, and extended the package to offer him one. “I’m really not sure. If nobody at the Institute knew he was a synth, then is there a point to bringing him in?”
“Of course.” X6 pulled one of the cakes out of the box. “All synths should be returned to the Institute. At the very least, we should see if we can get any information out of him. He could be a useful asset.”
They nodded, but their eyes were far away. The snack cake in their hand remained unopened.
“Ma’am/Sir, don’t let your fondness for him cloud your judgement.”
They sighed heavily. “But he’s a good man, X6. I don’t want to throw him to the wolves.”
“I know that your loyalties make it hard to be objective in this situation. But if he’s left by himself, he’ll be hunted for the rest of his life by people he once called friends. The Institute can keep him safe, perhaps give him a new purpose. He could make for a fine courser.”
“If he’d ever agree to that.”
He shrugged. “That would be his choice to make.”
“And what if I don’t bring him in?” Their eyes challenged him. “What would you do?”
He stared at them for a brief moment, contemplating his answer. They had been a good friend to him so far, and he trusted them nearly blindly. To grant them one small favor wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?
“I suppose I could turn a blind eye this once. But I wouldn’t advise crossing Father. You may not like the consequences.”
They nodded, offered him the box of snack cakes again, and turned the conversation to other things.
#honestly?#todd howard cheated us out of so much with blind betrayal#so much character development could have been done#but nooooo#and that's why he's a coward#give me the characterization todd#fallout#fallout 4#fo4#fo4 companions#fallout 4 companions#fallout 4 companions react#fo4 companions react#cait#curie#danse#paladin danse#deacon#hancock#gage#porter gage#maccready#robert joseph maccready#rj maccready#nick valentine#piper wright#preston garvey#x6#x6-88#blind betrayal
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