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pingutats · 3 years

Text

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

. . . . .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood.

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around.

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again.

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge.

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan.

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely.

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is.

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter.

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life.

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove.

“Hey, Jeff,” he says.

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it.

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation.

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone.

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps.

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends.

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes.

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos.

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world.

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her.

He scrolls down even further.

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera.

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all.

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh.

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is.

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying.

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly.

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods.

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview.

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries.

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word.

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand.

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

. . . . .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fic

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

trials

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship, domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, angst with a happy ending

summary: this one is a Santi story - he tries to bring another girl into the relationship, and learns instead how much he loves you

it wont be everyone's cup of tea but I felt like it was an important part of the story

note: don’t hate Santi! I think this is a pretty normal, and the best sunsets come after rain

Santi was the first to branch out. He didn’t mean to – hated himself for it a little, but he did.

This – whatever this is, it’s a ticking time bomb, he told Will. One of has to do something before it breaks all of our hearts.

It was a lie.

They both knew it. But he had the money and the looks and the confidence and he was just hurt enough by the sight of you asleep in Ben’s lap one afternoon that he just… let it get to him.

Brooded and boiled until he was overcome with false righteousness and pure selfishness.

He didn’t look you in the eyes when he told you he was going to try to get another girl. It wasn’t that he was leaving what you all had, just that he deserved a chance at whatever he called balance. His gaze in the other men’s eyes was too bold – the look of a desperate man, terrified of being hurt so causing it on his own terms.

You nodded numbly, shocked in spite of yourself, scolding and scathing voices in your mind telling you not to be selfish. Not to be greedy.

He deserves more than sharing.

Tucking yourself into Frankie’s arms, you tried not to glare or cry and only failed at the latter. Because it’s not the dating another girl that hurt, really it’s not. Polyamory is hard, and it was always an open option. What hurts is his blatant choice to ignore the relationship his has with you, specifically, that he’s ignoring everything you and him have worked for, built with love and time and care.

Rubbing gentle hands over your skin, Will and Frankie and Ben shared looks as Santi stalks away.

Frankie corners him in the garage the next morning. You had slept between him and Will the night before, but they had all felt you toss and turn, all spent a fair amount of time staring at the ceiling themselves. His dark eyes are an insecure that shoots into Frankie’s core – it’s a look he knows, has spent months overcoming. He swallows hard, his words dying in his throat, and he simply shakes his head.

It almost breaks Santi in two, the first moment one of his loves betrays the damage he’s done, but he tells himself there’s no going back.

“Better now than later, when our parents hate her or –”

Frankie’s look stops him and he flinches away.

Will is at the bar he chooses without an invite, knowing where he’d be without having to even ask and they both try not to think of you at home with Ben, probably dripping flames. Santi wonders if it hurts more to watch him flirt, or to do it, but neither of them say a word to each other. In spite of it all, the respect his judgement, respect his choice, and that hurts too.

It feels strange to have others looking him up and down and to look back, smile with lust void of love and soak in the attention.

Before he succumbs to it, Santi wishes Will would come over, slide his hand around his neck and… stop respecting him so much. It would pull him back, but since he doesn’t, the thought dies under the burn of cheap alcohol.

She’s lovely, really, graceful like a cat.

Santi has kept her from you all for a few weeks now, keeping his dignity with distance. But now she’s here, in your home, and you should be jealous but instead you just smile sadly at her, and slip off to the kitchen.

He likes… coffee, dark roast, with just a clump of raw sugar. You’re stirring it when you realize they followed you, hovering at the door. The ache of it is less than it was before and they’re happy together, so for his sake, you sit down across from her.

She’s kind, friendly. Knows the gist of the situation, tells you she’ll go at your pace.

And it crashes into you, how he’s pinned you at a time when know one else is home, offering her up to you like a plea, a child who used the superglue to make a gift, never mind the fact that his hands are both stuck to it and burning.

It feels reasonable to have another woman around, to make the numbers less absurd, to – to help you. Her smile is a little shy and she takes you hand and she looks at Santi with such adoration that a knot loosens in your chest involuntarily.

She doesn’t joke about it, any of it, and you almost wish she would. It would be so much easier to hate her if she was shallow, or stupid, or something but she’s not, and when she smiles you almost think you could be friends. You wonder if you could make it work, like they do for you.

Ben and Will come home early, stepping in like the angels they are, planting themselves solid at your side like trees with roots deeper than they are tall. When Frankie comes home, he takes the spot of the two of them as their eyes draw Santi into another room.

“What the fuck, Garcia,” Benny is as hurt as you are by it all, maybe more.

“Shut up Miller.” He’s glaring, filled with venomous satisfaction at how well the two of you have been talking.

“Cant you see it’s for the better?”

There’s silence – neither of them agree, too confused by him to respond.

“Don’t you ever wonder,” Santi tries again, knowing they’re listening because they love him too.

“No.” They spoke in unison, which makes Will roll his eyes. Neither of them hesitate, and something in Santi cracks.

You poke holes in the bottom of a styrofoam container with a plastic fork. She’s long gone now, but the date still lingers as you poke at your leftovers and try to unwind each moment of the date like strings of spaghetti.

On the surface it had gone well, you had thought you had fun until you felt a burn of tears under your eyelids.

Closing them you sigh, breathing like you practiced, gentle tides of love and logic washing over a feelings you tell yourself are selfish.

When you open your eyes, your Santi is standing behind her chair, and you almost cant breathe.

He went away for two weeks to help with a mission, and he’s here, one side of his mouth higher than the other. You want to kiss it, but you smile instead, and say, “You missed her by a couple minutes, sorry,” and actually mean it.

“I caught her in the parking lot,” he sits slowly, carefully, and when he reaches for your hands it’s almost tentative. It makes you blink again, how his eyebrows are bending. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t understand what it means, cant predict at all what he says next.

“I broke it off,” his eyes are in yours.

“I don’t understand,” you hear yourself say.

Santi searches for the words, like he had them but cant make them come out of his mouth.

“She’s not you,” he says. “I want you.”

You realize with a start that his hand is trembling, and he says your name in a way you’ve never heard before – like he’s terrified. That’s how badly he wants this, wants.. you. There’s no question in your mind, your eyes answer him.

It’s messy, not like a movie, the way he tugs you up and up and into his arms, the shudder of his broad shoulders and he buries himself into you as much as he can.

Like a hazy, blurry dream, your arms find their way around him, holding him like he’s fragile, another first.

He doesn’t say You’re enough for me, or You deserve the world, or anything dramatic.

Instead he says, “Can I buy you dinner?” And, “I’m sorry,” and “It’s been too long.”

And he says “I love you.”

He already asked the others, calling them each on his drive to you. Asked like he was young, if it was okay. Santi knew none of them had fallen in love with her, because even he hadn’t. But he had to ask for their permission as much as yours, to try to win you back.

They were more guarded than you, wary of his passion.

It takes time, and work.

He stays up later than he should talking with Benny about everything and nothing, hands nervously putting together snacks. When the younger man holds you, Santi teaches himself to join, to be held and hold you both. It feels good, which feels like guilt.

He works on that, too.

Frankie and him never talk about it. For weeks he thought his oldest friend had understood, more of less forgiven him without a word. One day they’re out for lunch, and his eyes flicker at the waitress, tucking her hair behind her ear. When he returns his gaze to the man across him, his blood runs cold. It’s been years since he’s seen furious determination brewing in Frankie’s dark, caring eyes, but it’s there now and he hates it. It takes discipline, to watch how he’s perceived as closely as he watched his intentions, but he does it.

It was easier than winning Will back.

“How long has your logic been shit?” Has your heart been in the wrong place this whole damn time?

“I just got on the wrong path, Ironhead.”

“Like hell you did,” his eyes were ice. “You let that happen.”

It would’ve been easier if he punched him. This wasn’t a kiss and make up moment either. The work ended up being long talks while you forced them to drive to pick you up when your car broke down the town over. Forcing words out being so honest it hurt, until has heart and throat felt raw. Making Will understand it was out of his own fears. Showing him how he was fixing it.

And weeks of letting with watch him again, eyes not missing a single touch or flinch or moment between you all. Actions to reinforce his words.

It hurt, but infinitely less than feeling distant from you all to begin with.

Will and your Catfish bring it up with you, one sunday afternoon as you tuck yourself between them and let their hands trace your skin.

“How are you doing?”

“I don’t know, Will. Better, I think. I missed him.”

Frankie places a row of warm kisses down the side of your neck.

“He missed you too. It’s Pope, he’s... he’s scared, love.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, yet.”

Ironhead grumbles at your confession, his big fingers squeezing the meat of your thigh.

“You gave him another chance, but you’re holding back. What does your gut say?”

“Unreliable - I’m in love with him.”

His head pops up and he kisses you before half-smiling. Frankie’s hand finds one of his, and they share a look.

“Can we tell you, querida? What we’ve seen.”

“Some objective evidence,” Will kisses you again.

“He loves us.” Another kiss.

“You.”

It’s quiet as Santi flips through his latest files. The evening air is cool, and he should be getting ready for bed but you’re not home yet, and they’re all milling about waiting. You texted them how tired you were, what an awful evening you had.

“It should just be another couple of minutes,” Will says, and Frankie checks his watch. Ben wanders to the kitchen and they can hear him mixing hot chocolate.

When you walk through the front door, they fold you in their arms. Santi holds back, doubt still nagging at his mind. You let him back in, let him take you don't dates, but you didn’t fit together any more. He was running out of ways to communicate with you.

But you slump over, gently pushing aside his files and placing his laptop away before replacing it with yourself. Molding into him you sigh, and almost instantly fall asleep.

You’re small and vulnerable in his arms and the weight on his legs feels like trust.

The air in the room shifts, lighter, more breathable than it’s been in months. Adoring, proud eyes watch, and he wants to cry.

For the first time maybe ever, he’s sure that everything is going to be okay.

The bar was mercifully quite that evening, and if made it easy for you to find your love. A small, familiar feeling tugged in your gut as you made your way over to him, eyes on the waitress who was leaning over him with unwholesome intentions.

Then the feeling settled, and was replace with a warmer feeling. She was putting down a tray that had your order on it, and Santi was thanking her, distracted checking your message on his phone.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. “Can we actually get out of here?”

His brown eyes were big, dark lashes catching the low lights as he stared at you. Somewhere in his mind, he thought too protest because your drink just got there, but the words stuck on his tongue.

“Yeah... yeah of course, baby,” He signaled for the check before standing to draw you in his arms. Saying no to you had never really been an option.

The two of you barely made it to his truck before your hands were all over each other. You liked the feel of him, pinning you against the metal frame, the desperate way he kissed you.

Pope was saying something about how you looked so fucking sexy, needing him so badly you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t concentrate on them.

“Pope,” you said against his skin, sliding your hands under his shirt. In response, he only made a soft groaning noise and increases his urgency.

"Santi," you tried again, before your own gasp cut you off.

"Santi - fuck - Santiago!"

The look he gave you was that of a dog, when you held the treat just out of reach.

"I'm yours," you said, pulling his head in to press against your forehead. "And you," you kissed him, hard, fingers gripping his beautiful curls. "Are mine."

"Fuck," you could feel his heartbeat, his pulse, he was pressing into you so hard, like he wanted to blur where he ended and you began. You knew he understood.

"I am," he said into your skin again and again that evening. Not selfish position, a promise and a proclamation: "I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

poly frontier taglist:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier #poly frontier #triple frontier poly fic #triple frontier x reader #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“More Than One Use” || Jealous Thomas

AN: I’m finally done with the pollwinning short/smutfic! It was really fun letting you guys choose my next shortfic and if you guys liked doing that, I might do it again! Please do let me know if that's something you would like, because I have a BUNCH of titles! This has NOT been beta read by any betareader! Thank you, @your-local-possum for giving me the idea/inspiration for this one! Reblogs are always appreciated!

Genre: smut, 18+, fem!reader. Warnings: Bondage, dubcon, like real dubcon, somewhat graphic depiction of violence, mentions of cannibalism, creampie, jealousy, mentions of blood, forced to watch, lowkey forced orgasm? I have no idea and a really bad joke. Please ignore the joke, I had to google bad jokes to find it. This has also NOT been beta read.

*** *** *** ***

For you, this was punishment. Punishment for forgetting who you belonged to.

For Thomas, this was proof. A way to claim you as his in front of the man who had shamelessly flirted with you and lured the kind of giggle from your throat that he knew wasn’t fake.

Thomas was going to make sure you’d never forget who you belonged to.

You sigh as you look out over the barn floor at how much you actually had to clean after today’s brawl with a new group of dinner guests. You always did prefer when Thomas made it quick. Like snapping their necks or literally anything other than shoving his entire chainsaw through a poor person’s chest. Because that always meant more cleaning to do. A groan crawled from your throat as you went off to fill the bucket of water used for scrubbing the floor. Your mind wanders back to that joke you’d heard by one of the men now waiting to be butchered.

“Turn that frown upside down, sweetheart.”, the man had said. You played along, knowing your role in the family is to lure victims in.

“Tell you what…”, you replied, throwing a glance over his shoulder when you saw a huge shadow in the living room window, making you put a hand to the stranger’s chest and push him towards the house. “If you make me laugh, I’ll invite you into my house and you’ll meet my parents.” He raised an eyebrow as it connected in his mind what you implied. “ Alright… Why are there gates around cemeteries?”, he says while barely keeping it together. “ I don’t know… Why are there gates around cemeteries?”, you reply, internally laughing at the fact that the family recently did put up a gate at the edge of the property. “ Because people are dying to get in”.

And you laughed.

It was such a stupid joke but it’d still hit you straight on your giggle nerve. Something Thomas had not appreciated. You’d ended up fighting about you laughing a joke, him thinking you would leave him for it. His jealousy had really bubbled over then. Him being convinced that you were fully ready to leave him and the family. There had been yelling, a cup was thrown close to his head by you, and doors slammed behind him. The biggest fight between you two this far in your relationship, and was about a joke.

As you expected, it took almost three full hours to finish cleaning the floors and walls of the barn clear of blood. Wiping your brow clean of sweat, you groan as you realize you’d just used the same rag you cleaned the walls with, your brow now having a clear streak of blood. Ah well…, you thought. You’re used to blood by now anyway. Suddenly, you feel a pair of big meaty hands wrap around your waist and hoist you up.

“THOMAS!”, you yelp out as he just throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Thomas! Let me go!”, you punch him hard at his back, kicking your legs wildly and doing everything in your power to get away from his grip.

One kick connected with him hard in the ribs making him groan slightly at the sudden pain.

“I’m done with you today, Hewitt! We’re done! Fuck you!”, you’re so pissed at him. Still pissed about the fact that he dared to think you were going to leave him. You’ve worked so hard these past years to help him overcome his jealousy, and then he goes and acts like this over a joke. But he doesn’t care about your words, only increasing his grip around your waist and growls at you, his own way of telling you to shut up.

The basement is cool, bordering on cold and you shiver as Thomas sets you down on the blood-drenched table. You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him as he walks over to one of the supportive beams where all the meat hooks hang. All you can do is watch him as he prepares one of the hooks, as he always does right before hanging cattle up.

Your blood runs cold and your heart rate picks up.

"T-To-...Tommy, what are you doing?", you're only met with dark blue eyes. "Honey, come on.", you laugh nervously as he stalks over to you, his eyes flicker over you for a second, but you're fast enough to catch it. Turning your head, you follow where he was looking. In one of the slightly lit corners, you saw the man who made you giggle earlier, still alive, naked, and ready to be butchered. A hook pierced between his shoulder blades, a big bucket under him to catch the blood being drained from him, blood steadily dripping from slits in his wrists. Seems Luda Mae was planning on making blood sausage later.

You turn your head back to look at your giant, who was now standing right in front of you. His hands balled into fists, shoulders heaving with every breath he takes. He’s furious, and his eyes make you cower under the shadow he casts over you. “Th-Thomas?”, you try again, desperate to know what’s going on in his mind. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he with lightning speed grabs your jaw in a firm grip before he growls at you again. Again telling you to shut up, and all you can do is swallow and do your best to nod at his command. With a heart beating like a panicked bird behind your ribs, thoughts of death start creeping in your mind. You’ve seen him angry before, of course, just not with anger directed at you. Never has he forcefully brought you down into the basement like cattle and never has he directed the preparation of meat hooks at you.

As the hand at your jaw disappears, he yanks you off the table, even if you’re standing upright he still towers over you. His shadow imposing, sending chills down your spine. All you can do is look up at him and when you do; you’re transported back to the first time you met him.

How he loomed over you, the only one in your group who didn’t shriek as he approached you even though your friend told you to run. You couldn’t. The first thing that caught you were his eyes, those blue soulful eyes that told you of hurt, of love, and betrayal. Eyes that swam with unspoken emotions, thoughts, and feelings, but also of someone strong and loyal. The only difference then compared to now being that now those eyes were shrouded in shadow, only a dark silhouette of a brute stood before you. You saw him as the cattle saw him: Like death itself.

Suddenly, big hands take hold of your wrists and a rope is twisted around them. You hiss as he pulls the rope closed in a tight knot. Your brain together with your heart starts racing a million miles an hour at what he’s planning, and for the first time in years, he’s actually scaring you. It’s when that realization hits that you start feeling tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your gentle giant scared you. The notion that this is the day you die hits you and you scream as he hangs you up on the meathook, the sharp edge cutting open a small slit on your arm as he maneuvers to hang you by the rope tied around your wrists.

You try talking to him again when he steps back and observes you.

"Hun, p-please, it's me. I-I'm sorry!". Panic sets in as you see how the gears in his head start turning, but all he does is stand there, looking you up and down before he walks behind you. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel a warm hand slowly glide from your lower back and up around your ribs under your shirt, stopping just under one of your breasts. He tickles you slightly as he drags his thumb just under it, lazily tracing the shape of it. That’s when Thomas remembers why he had forcefully brought you down here. His hand envelops your neck and he can’t help but smirk when he hears you whimper at the contact.

Thomas actually wasn't all that furious, maybe a little annoyed, but mostly; he was jealous. And he felt an urge and a carnal instinct deep inside him to punish you and to remind you who you belonged to. Remind you that no one could ever make you feel like he could. The hand not wrapped around your throat took a firm grip on the breast he traced earlier and massaged it a way he knew would make you melt.

Sure enough, his attention to the soft flesh and his rolling of the nipple between two fingers lured a small sigh from your lungs. And when you felt his teeth suddenly graze that one spot on your neck, you moaned. He knew your body so well. You tried wiggling away from the hook, however, not wanting to do this in the basement, where the carnage took place and where people got slaughtered. But as you did, the hand around your neck got tighter.

A warning. And you relaxed. Your eyes snapped towards a groan coming from across the room. The man who had flirted with you was waking up. It seems as though Thomas also heard him because he lifted his head from the spot on your neck he'd been attacking. You took a big gulp of air when the hand around your neck vanished and sobbed quietly as the giant of a man pulled your pants down in one vicious movement.

"Tom-... please don't. Not here." Any tries to get through to him were met with a growl as he grabbed you around your waist and pulled your back against his chest. Suddenly, a burning sensation on your neck made you scream. He bit you. Hard.

His teeth came down hard enough to draw blood. It wasn't until now that you fully understood; Thomas was pissed at you. And now you got your punishment. Your punishment for laughing at that joke, for letting that stranger, that piece of meat, get close enough to you to make that joke. Sure, you’re supposed to lure people into false security, a false sense of home, and a promise of something cold to drink to get them close enough for Tommy to do his job. But apparently, this time your job had been too good.

Thomas groaned slightly as he heard you whimper as the stinging sensation of his tongue dragging over the bleeding bite marks registered in your brain. He disappeared into his head in the midst of marking you as his.

You’re mine. His inner voice growled as the grip around your waist was hard enough for his dull nails to leave marks.

And I’m going to remind you. The clinking sound of his belt made him grin at the full-body shiver running through you.

If I so have to fuck you until you can’t walk. Another long lick over your neck made you exhale a shuddering breath as his strong arm lifted one of your legs.

And until you scream my name loud enough to wake the dead.

The fingers on the hand not holding your leg up were pushed into your mouth, making you suck on them. You obeyed, swirling your tongue around them, feeling the coppery taste of blood invade your mouth making you shut your eyes, and doing your best to not gag. When he felt you’ve wet them enough, the hand disappeared downwards and you tensed as he pushed them into your cunt. Even if this was only supposed to be a punishment for you and a reminder for him, he didn’t have the heart to actually hurt you. He barely prepared you for him and a loud and raspy moan came from his throat as you screamed loud when he forcefully pushed himself into your - wet enough - cunt. It was a stretch, a stretch that you’ve felt so many times, and that you usually loved more than anything.

As he started moving, tears started streaming down your cheeks. But you weren’t fully sure if they were from pleasure, pain, or a mixture of both at this point. Thomas is never this forceful with you. Sure, he can be rough when he wants to be. But he always makes sure you’re fully prepared for him, not today. Today he seemed content in just feeling any kind of wetness actually existing.

Thomas grunts as he feels you tighten around him at the same time he, once again, bites down on your neck. And the more he thrusts and pounds into you, the more both of you feel the ever-growing wetness and arousal gather inside of you. He growls when you try to reason with him again;

"To-... Tommy… it hurts!"

When you wiggle your body against the meat hook holding you firmly in place, he moves one hand up to your jaw and makes you look at the man whimpering across the room. His own twisted arousal fully on display at the scene happening in front of him. Every thrust he made into you was hard, deep, and spoke of demands. "I- I'm sorry!", you sob. You were just crying now. You didn't care about the reason anymore. "I didn't mean it, Tommy!", his cock hit you just right and you clenched around him by reflex, causing him to groan.

You better be sorry. He told himself in his head.

Releasing your jaw and taking a firm hold of your hips. Angling you and him to help him hit your g-spot and you wailed as he started moving harder against it. The place where the rope dug into your wrists was starting to burn and you knew you’d be red and sore after this. Thomas got lost in his pleasure as he felt that familiar feeling of his climax creeping up on him. Making him forget about "punishing" you, now he needed to feel you cum around his cock, making him snake one hand to your front, quickly finding your clit.

You moaned as his fingers rubbed you in a way he knew would have you cumming in no time.

There you are. You thought as you recognized your sweet Tommy as he gave attention to the one spot that needed him the most. But what really set you off was hearing him demanding you to do one thing: "Cum.", his member ramming against your g-spot, his finger rubbing quick circles around your clit and that deep and raspy voice had you shaking. Screaming his name and thanking whatever higher power existed that the rest of the family wasn't home as you came, hard enough to see dots dance in your vision. The feeling of your cramping walls around him made Thomas’s movements stutter to a halt as he came in you, letting out a loud moan into your ear while emptying everything he had in you.

Coming down from you high, you remembered your audience.

The man straight across from the room was still looking at you both, his face red and eyes almost popping out of his skull. Glancing down his body, you saw why as his own member twitched post-climax. And over your shoulder, you felt Thomas tilting his head up, radiating both pride and anger. Pride at how he knew that skinny twig of a man would never have made you feel like he did, and anger because this… piece of meat had orgasmed because he had watched you.

You turned your head towards Tommy and tenderly kissed any part you could reach, mumbling how much you loved him and that no man could ever change your feelings for him before telling him to end the sad existence of the man bleeding out. Thomas playfully growled and nipped at your earlobe making you giggled before he with pure possession whispered;

"You're mine."

#ninno og #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #smut #pwp #n*sfw #18+#tcm #tcm fanfiction #More Than One Use #tommy is jellyyyyy #I'm finally done with it

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind.

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander.

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun.

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up.

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked.

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps.

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek.

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous.

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him.

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel.

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway.

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice.

Robbe.

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?”

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn.

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button.

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

#wtfock #my fics #i think i prefer writing sobbe in canon #i kinda struggle with the AU versions of them #😫

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Kinktober - Day Twenty-Nine

Prompt: Tutor Kink

Pairing: Bokuto/Reader & Akaashi/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, College AU, Non-Consensual Touching, Semi-Public Sex, Molestation, Slight Victim Blaming, and Implied Future Non-Con.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you saw Akaashi.

You could believe that Bokuto needed your help. You didn’t have to believe it, honestly, because he did need your help, he needed as much as he could get. When he’d approached you after a lecture, last month’s assignment balled in his fist and a disappointed pout already painted across his expression, you’d been sure of that, and you’d liked the idea of helping one of your more enthusiastic classmates out. You should’ve hesitated when he asked you to meet him at the campus library in the middle of the night, but he was an athlete, he had a busy schedule. You should’ve been put-off by how excite he seemed, when you agreed to help him study, and you should’ve grabbed your things and gone back to your dorm the moment your eyes met Akaashi’s, tucked into a secluded booth set apart from the rest of the empty tables. Akaashi’d never failed a pop quiz, let alone an exam. Akaashi didn’t need your help, and if Bokuto had Akaashi, Bokuto shouldn’t, either.

You should’ve, but you hadn’t. Bokuto seemed harmless, and you’d been so sure Akaashi wouldn’t do anything, not in public. You’d been so, so sure.

It’s almost funny, how smart people make such stupid mistakes.

You shouldn’t have worn a skirt. You doubted a few extra buttons would’ve stopped Akaashi, but you wouldn’t have to feel fabric rustle against your skin every time his wrist arched, bunching around your waist and doing little to obscure the sight of his hand snaked down your panties, his thumb toying with your clit as two fingers eased into your cunt. You’d tried to get up when you felt him touching you, tried to leave, your reputation be damned, but Bokuto was faster than you could ever hope to be, more reflexive, stronger, and just the weight of his arm around your midriff had been enough to stop you, to keep you rooted to your seat as he nudged his latest draft in front of you and his friend leaned onto your shoulder to get a better view, Akaashi’s demeanor so stoic and so casual, you might’ve thought he was just playing with your pussy to keep his hands busy. He might’ve been, honestly. He could’ve been. You could never get a good grip on people like him, not when their passivity was as practiced as his.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong.” Bokuto wasn’t any better, albeit a bit more obvious with his intentions. Even as he gestured to his paper, that perpetual whine heavy in his voice, his gaze kept drifting, wandering, falling to your heaving chest and the lip trapped between your teeth and all the signs and tells and evidence Akaashi’s work milked out of you. It was perverted. It was perverted, and it was sickening, and it was illegal, but Akaashi knew what he was doing, just when to spread his fingers, just where to rub and prod to make you want to curl into yourself and bury your face on the cluttered tabletop and scream. Bokuto’s interest was obvious, his awareness even more so, but he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t. You could only be thankful he was so used to acting oblivious. “I mean, I’m using quotes, and I’m talking about the sonnet. That’s what they want, right?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to--” They might’ve been able to act like nothing was wrong, but it was more difficult for you. Everything made you feel breathless, from the idea of doing something so dirty in such a public place to the feeling of your own slick building up and dripping onto your thighs, pooling on the cushioned bench below you. It was humiliating. It was humiliating, and if not for Akaashi’s stare burning into the back of your neck, for the way Bokuto’s grip tightened every time you shifted, you wouldn’t be able to take it. You didn’t want to take it.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice, though.

“You have to embed,” You managed, Akaashi choosing that moment to sink the full length of his fingers into you, down to the knuckle, and making the last word coming out fractured, too cracked not to be suspicious. A student browsing a nearby shelf glanced towards you, absentmindedly, and you glared at the paper in front of you, doing your best not to go any tenser than you already had. “It’s not enough to have evidence, you have to… you have to work it in smoothly, and--” Another finger, Akaashi barely teasing your slit before sliding it in, taking a second or two to scissor you apart properly before returning to his constant, unbearable pace. “And-- and it’s proof, you have to prove that your interpretation is--”

“It’s an argument, Bokuto-san. You’re arguing your case, and you’re supposed to use words and phrases to do that.” You could feel Akaashi’s lips moving against your shoulder, his weight settling into your back. Briefly, his gaze drifted away from you, and towards Bokuto’s essay. “Specific words and phrases, when you’re discussing tone. Quoting an entire stanza is usually considered bad form.”

Bokuto said something about that. You think he said something about that, at least, because you stopped paying attention as soon as Akaashi’s free hand fell to your side, his face finding the crook of your neck as he started fucking into you in earnest. You wanted to do something. You wanted to stop him, but your complaints and rejections and all of it got caught in your throat as you lurched forward, Bokuto catching you with an airy laugh. He almost sounded surprised, but every trace of shock was gone by the time he opened his mouth. “He’s good with his hands, huh?” He asked, acknowledging your violation but not straying from his unaffected tone, never straying from it, even as he held you to his chest, encouraging you to hide your face in his hoodie while Akaashi pinned down your bucking hips and twisted, hitting every sensitive, neglected spot inside of you in one seamless motion. You tried to whimper, but Bokuto only chuckled, hushing you as he carded his fingers through your hair. “He’s almost done, baby, just let ‘kaashi have his fun. He‘s been dying to do this ever since he found out how pretty my new tutor was.”

Holding onto Bokuto wasn’t a choice, at that point. You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps as Akaashi’s palm ground against your clit and your whole body seemed to burn. You almost moaned, you almost sobbed, but Bokuto was fast, he was so fast. His palm was over your mouth by the time you could think about opening it, muffing any sound you might’ve bad as you clenched around his best friend’s fingers, Akaashi suddenly feeling generous enough to carry you through your orgasm, only stopping when the first pangs of over-stimulation made your eyes water and your legs twitch. Even then, you didn’t try to get away from Bokuto. You couldn’t have, even if you did.

His grip was iron-clad, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

“Look at that, Keiji, you made ‘em cry.” The comment earned a polite nod, a small ‘sorry’ as Akaashi pulled away, but there was little remorse in either of their voices. If anything, Bokuto sounded just as happy as ever - happier, even, with all the childish joviality you’d grown used to and something else mixed in, an eagerness, an impatience. One that only seemed to grow more expectant, as he went on. “I’m not mad, but…”

There was a pause, a smile, a kiss pushed into the top of your head. For the first time, you wondered why you ever thought Bokuto was so harmless.

“You interrupted our study date. We should go over the material more thoroughly back at our apartment.”

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creativelyderangedme · 4 years

Text

Checking Sources

I’m taking a stab at the trope I’ve seen all over the place recently. But with a different twist. Oneshot - might continue if I get the desire.

“Ladybug?”

Paris’ spotted heroine jumped slightly after being pulled from her thoughts. She’d been staring out over the city’s glittering lights, lost to the maelstrom of voices and recalled memories swarming her mind with a thoughtful (at least she hoped it was) frown on her lips. So much so, that she hadn’t noticed when her leather-clad partner had shown up to sit next to her on a night he was supposed to be taking off.

When the hell had he gotten there? She wondered, looking around quickly for any indication of how long she’d been stuck in her own head.

“Hey Chaton, what are you doing out here? It’s my night to patrol.” She asked as another entirely panicked thought came to mind - that she’d been so dazed she’d missed the tell-tale signs of an Akuma.

But, before she could freak out any further, she took in Chat’s relative ease - or at least, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of jumping into a fight. He did seem apprehensive, though. She could tell in the way it tensed and squeezed his shoulders together like he wanted to be close, but wouldn’t dare come in contact with her.

Which made her wonder if she’d said or done anything recently to give him the idea he was overstepping his bounds. Or maybe he was mad at her for something? And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake that was her day?

First, Lila had caused a major scene that got Marinette detention for the rest of the week (it all happened so fast, she barely remembers what the hell had even happened). Now she was having a panic attack over whether her partner was mad at her for something she didn’t remember doing? Who else was she going to piss off today?

“What’s your stance on sharing your identity?”

Panic attack on momentary pause, a dark brow shot up at the question, and if she wasn’t so wary of the way he’d said it with that uncomfortable look on his face, she probably would have been angry. But he seemed so off tonight that it was throwing her usual emotions for a loop. So, choosing not to go off on her partner, she sighed heavily, trying to keep her focus on him despite the bubbling irritation, “Chat, I’m sorry, but we’ve talked about this. Our identities are a secret for a reason.”

For the first time since he sat down (she thinks), she sees him glance her way if only slightly. The uncomfortable look on his face had softened a bit but he still has something unreadable in his eyes that makes Ladybug anxious, “So... you’ve never shared your identity? With anyone? Not accidentally or otherwise?”

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say his words were a little accusatory.

Which, okay first off, what the fuck? And second, why was he suddenly giving her the third degree?

Again, though, the entire display was throwing her and she knew she had to be rational about this.

“No. Of course not. I promised you didn’t I? Once Hawkmoth was defeated, you would be the first person I told.” She stated as calmly and resolutely as she possibly can. She’d been clear from the start where she stood on the subject.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Chat Noir visibly relaxed. Shoulders slumping and a breath heaving from his chest as he nodded, “Right. Right, of course.” He finally managed to turn to look at her and the discomfort was quickly hidden by a small smile.

The shift in his attitude was almost as disconcerting as his arrival.

“What is this about, Chatton?”

That smile faltered a bit as he looked away from her again, “There’s this-” he began but his words died before he shook his head, “No, it’s - it’s nothing. Sorry for bothering you about this. It was stupid.”

Chat made to stand, but Ladybug caught his wrist before he could get away, “Obviously not if it brought you out here as upset as you looked. I know I can be a real stickler about the secret identities thing, but Chat, I’m not doing this to hurt you. I promise!” She implored, feeling like she’d missed something major. “If you’re being hurt or-”

Blonde hair flew as he shook his head quickly, “No, no. Nothing like that. Really. I know why you do. I won’t pretend it doesn’t suck, but I get it. Really, I do.” He tried to assure her, and while it did seem like he understood and he was being honest with her, he was still hiding something. Something that had driven him to come out and ask her these strange questions.

“Then what was all of this about?”

He had the decency to look apologetic at least as the corners of his mouth pulled up and he shook his head again, “It’s too personal - talking about it might give me away, Bugaboo, but I really am sorry about this. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ladybug’s eyes darted back and forth as she watched him closely, but eventually, hesitantly, she let go of his wrist and allowed him to get up.

The whole conversation left an unsettling anxiousness over her and a rather uncomfortable tenseness in the air between them as he backed away and saluted before she even had the chance to say anything - disappearing into the night.

That unease followed her home and through her restless sleep and when she woke up the next morning, she couldn’t help but let it consume her thoughts. Distracting her as she made her way to class earlier than usual.

Distracting her so much, in fact, that she almost didn’t notice the crowd gathered around two individuals crammed into her usual seat next to Alya giggling and talking loudly.

Almost.

As much as she hated it, Marinette had developed something of a sixth sense for the Italian exchange student Lila Rossi. A personal radar to warn her of the liar’s presence.

And it was going off big time.

It wasn’t uncommon for Lila to try and steal her spot when she could. Usually, it resulted in some sort of argument between Marinette and Alya when her supposed best friend defended the other girl for just wanting to hang out, and why didn’t she try being nice to the girl for once?

This time, though, Marinette was quickly made aware of three things:

1. Lila wasn’t alone.

2. Whoever this other girl was, she and Lila were already very close and that didn’t bode well for anyone - especially Marinette.

3. Adrien, who was an unfortunate captive in the crowd around his desk, looked really uncomfortable - more so than usual as he openly frowned at the desktop in front of him, trying not to associate with the things going on around him.

What the hell was going on? Marinette had only been gone from class for one afternoon!

Alya was the first to notice her entrance to the class, giving her an unsure look from her seat (she had been pretty mad at her yesterday for whatever it was that landed her detention for the week), causing a ripple effect as Lila and her ‘guest’ looked up at her too, quieting down and catching everyone else’ attention.

The unfamiliar girl sized the noirette up before speaking, “Is this the girl you were telling me about?”

Lila put on her biggest, fakest, puppy-dog eyes and nodded softly, watching Marinette like she might lunge at her any second now.

Like parting the red sea, the unfamiliar girl stood from her place at Marinette’s desk and the crowd around her gave her room to move, allowing her to make her way to stand haughtily before her. The girl was a tad taller than Marinette, but the platform sandals she wore made it so Marinette would need to look up at her slightly. She had dark, almost black, shoulder-length hair that hung loosely, but the color of her brows made it clear that it wasn’t natural. She’d dyed it, recently too, if the lack of root discoloration was any indication.

Marinette watched her approach with a raised brow, unimpressed by the superior gleam to the girl’s blue-green eyes.

“I heard you’ve been bullying my best friend.” She said, authoritatively, her hands propped on hips clad in Gabriel branded jeans.

There was a collective gasp among her classmates like this was some big reveal in a soap opera.

The class rep merely blinked a moment, brow still raised because who the fuck even was this girl and why was she squaring up to her like she even had a chance? Actually, no, she didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Marinette asked, but her tone gave away how few fucks she actually gave about the girl’s answer.

“For your information, it’s Bianca. I just transferred yesterday. But don’t change the subject. I’ve heard that you’ve been bullying my best friend Lila.”

Before Bianca had a chance to say any more, Marinette gave her a deadpanned look, “Well, sorry to inform you, but your best friend is a liar.”

Lila could immediately be heard breaking out into sobs somewhere in the background but Marinette was quickly losing interest in this conversation.

“I don’t think she is. I think you’re the liar. In fact, I think people like you are what’s wrong with Paris. Always trying to hurt others so they get Akumatized and I have to clean up your mess.”

I’m sorry, what?

That had Bluebell eyes snapping to focus on the girl in front of her. Interest piqued.

“I’m giving you one chance. Stop being a menace to society or my partner and I will take action.”

There was quite a bit to unpack from that. Like... a lot. Menace to society? Partner? Take action?

Who did this girl think she was? Ladybug?

The one thing that seemed clear to Marinette after reviewing the word choices in her own head a few times, was that this was not a friendly recommendation.

“Are you threatening me?”

She probably should have sounded a little angrier. In fact, anything would have been better than bored. But she just couldn’t find the energy.

A triumphant smile spread over Bianca’s face, as she disregarded the lack of fear in Marinette’s voice, “I don’t threaten people. But that is a promise.”

Marinette was left to blink at her a little longer.

Because what even was happening here? What on earth had she done that the universe saw fit to drop this steaming pile of bull on her morning?

And why did it feel like the girl was hinting at something she wasn’t picking up on? Why was her body telling her that she needed to react while her brain was taking its sweet time to catch up with everything?

“Dude,” someone from the peanut gallery stage whispered, finding it in their heart to give her a helping hand, “That’s Ladybug!”

Lila shushed them loudly, “Guys, not everyone is supposed to know! We don’t know who we can trust!”

Oh.

oohhhhh!

Wow. When she’d made that comment in her head before, she’d been joking but... seriously? Did she really just?

“You’re Ladybug?” Marinette asked, wanting to clarify and make absolutely certain that she hadn’t just imagined that last forty-five seconds of her life.

Bianca’s chin raised, literally looking down her nose at Marinette, “Normally I wouldn’t share that information with someone like you.”

Behind her, Adrien stood from his seat looking absolutely livid, but Marinette barely had a moment to even register the malice in the gaze he pointed at Bianca before -

Pfft...

Marinette covered her mouth with her hand to stop it, but nothing could hold back the onslaught now.

They were giggles at first, tumbling from her in waves as she tried to clear her throat and treat this seriously. But before long, she couldn’t help it. She was laughing out loud, doubling over, completely ignorant (maybe not completely, but she didn’t care at this point) to the looks of confusion on the faces around her.

She made the mistake of looking back up at Bianca and that only renewed her laughing fit until it literally brought her to her knees, clutching her sides as she laughed so hard she cried.

Fucking cried.

It was a solid five or six minutes before she could breathe again. Sitting back up, wiping the tears from her eyes, she beamed at the girl standing awkwardly before her, “Wow. Thanks. I really needed that.”

She cleared her throat, clearly unsure of the strange behavior. She couldn’t blame her for that. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“All of it. Really.” She stood up from the floor, making a show of dusting off her pants before turning her full attention back on the girl.

Because this was going to be fun.

“So, Ladybug, tell me this; if I’m such a menace to society, why would you entrust me with a miraculous?”

Bianca's smirk faltered, her eyes darting over to Lila for a moment, both of them looking a little lost for words. As was everyone else for that matter.

Even Alya, whose mouth hung open at this revelation. But the reporter flew to her phone, swiping quickly, "when?! There were no new heroes! How do we know you're not lying?"

Oh good. They were playing right into it. One thing you could always count on with sheeple... they always follow.

"Huh, well, then I guess if you can’t believe me at my word, it would be pretty easy to fact check." Her tone was a bit forced on those words and the reporter had the decency to look taken aback, "You could always just ask Ladybug, here."

"Well I-"

"Or you could ask her partner. Seeing as how he saw me transform."

Bianca's mouth snapped shut. It was still hit or miss whether or not Marinette was bluffing. And it's easy to claim something like that when the only other person who could confirm or deny the facts was not present.

This had been Lila’s game the whole time. The difference was, Marinette wasn’t lying.

But neither of them could take that chance.

Because neither of them knew what she knew.

And Ladybug was definitely in this room, but it wasn’t who they all thought it was.

"I asked her to give you a chance. Because I wanted to help you. I thought being a hero would make you a better person. But you just kept bullying me!"

"E-exactly."

Ah, so they were going to go this route, hmm? She could work with that. And given Lila’s proclivity for being Akumatized, maybe she could mess with Hawkmoth too while she was at it.

Because it was only a matter of time before someone was targeted.

"How very generous of you, Lila," She said in her sweetest voice possible, but even to her own ears, it sounded fake. How did Lila keep this up all the time? “But, that’s not what you said on the tower when we fought that Akuma together.”

"What did you think I would say when you were obviously unfit to be a Hero! I didn’t want to risk you turning on me.”

“You didn’t think I was unfit when I helped save you and Chat Noir.” This time, it felt a little more realistic when she put the hurt look on her face, glancing away.

In the process, she caught sight of Adrien giving her a strange look. One she couldn’t really put a name to. But it was different than all of her other classmates. Why did he seem so much more confused than the others?

The girl scoffed, "leave my partner out of this." She demanded, and it felt like a desperate attempt at redirecting the conversation.

Fine. She could work with that too.

"You... do know that your 'partner' is my best friend, right?" She turned an apologetic look to Alya she only half meant, "sorry Als, but - you know," Marinette pointed between the two of them indicating the distance that had grown between them. They weren't nearly as close as they'd used to be. And while they were still friends, Marinette had a hard time categorizing her as her 'best friend'.

And the implication wasn't wasted on the reporter either. She was left staring wide with bewilderment and hurt. But Marinette was less positive it was because of not being best friends anymore and more that she hadn't told Alya that she spent time with one of the heroes she loved to chase.

"My partner would never hang out with someone like you."

God, she was just a broken record, wasn’t she? Did she really still think she was bluffing?

With a scoff and a soft shake of her head, Marinette pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped through her pictures until she found what she was looking for.

She wasnt trying to be smug about the way she flipped her phone around so she could show the class, but she definitely couldn't help the little smirk that pulled at her lips as the class gasped again, pulling closer so they could study the photo.

A photo of her and Chat Noir sitting a little too close together on her chaise lounge. Marinette sticking her tongue out at the camera, while chat gave the overly kawaii victory peace sign over his left eye like he was straight out of an anime. It was one of her favorites. They'd spent nearly the whole night binging on shows together after a particularly stressful day. The pictures had been a side effect of too much sugar, not enough sleep, and good company. And for some reason when Chat found out she’d been Multimouse, that increased her ‘coolness factor’ and they had something in common.

Of course, she couldn’t tell him that wasn’t the only thing they had in common.

Either way, it had brought them closer together as friends and they hung out often.

Which was a reprieve given that most of her friends had abandoned her anyway.

As Bianca stared a little blankly at the picture, a number of voices all began to pick up around them.

"You're actually friends with chat noir? That's so cool!"

“Does that mean you hang out with the other heroes too?”

“What is Chat Noir really like?”

"Wait, then that means you really were a hero? I thought heroes had to keep their identities secret."

That’s the one she’d been waiting on. Quickly silencing the others with a pointed look back at Bianca, "They do. But I'm not a hero anymore, am I Ladybug?"

"I-I..."

"Why was it again that I’m not allowed to be Multimouse again?" She put a thoughtful finger to her chin, but she felt her own fire building in her core, “I’m pretty sure it was nothing to do with being a menace to society.”

She tapped her chin a few more times, looking around deep in thought. Catching another glimpse of Adrien studying her carefully, but she refused to let his perfectness distract her because fuck these people.

Fuck the high road.

If he was going to be mad at her for standing up for her alter-ego then fuck him too.

But he didn’t seem mad.

In fact, as soon as she locked eyes with him, a slight smirk pulled at his lips. It was roguish and totally out of place on his angelic face, but goddamn did it do things for her.

But the smirk paired with the slightly raised brow aimed at her said, ‘Yes, what did Ladybug say?’

It’s sarcastic and playful and familiar in ways her heart is not ready to admit.

But that would have to come later.

Marinette spun back to the imposter, narrowing her eyes dangerously, "Oh right! Because I'd accidentally revealed my identity to Chat Noir. Because identities are supposed to remain a secret."

"W-well th-there are exceptions!" Bianca tries to defend, but Marinette isn’t going to let her.

“No, I think you, just like your supposed best friend, are a liar. You’re not Ladybug. You don’t know a damn thing about Ladybug. Because if you were, you’d already have been beaten. You’ve been in this classroom all of what, one day? And the entire class already knows your ‘identity’? We’re all lucky you aren’t one of the heroes, otherwise, Hawkmoth would already have won!”

She was fuming now. All of the emotions finally catching up with her. She thrust an accusatory finger at Bianca, making the girl stumble back slightly, “You don’t know a damn thing about what it takes to be a hero. What they have to sacrifice to keep people safe. Besides, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t even know each other's identities - why the hell would Ladybug share something like that with a classroom full of people who’ve been Akumatized at least once and not share that with her own partner?!”

Whatever fear she’d instilled in the new girl quickly swapped for something much closer to fury as she reclaimed her balance and advanced on Marinette with a fire burning in her eyes. “How dare you call me a liar, you little fucking brat!”

Surprised at the outburst, Marinette didn’t move when she saw Bianca raise her hand to strike her, instead, closing her eyes and bracing for the blow.

A blow that never connected.

A gasp brought Marinette to peak open her eyes before they widened at the scene.

Bianca stood where she had previously, hand raised and poised to strike. But just behind her, Adrien had moved - impossibly quick, seriously when the hell had she gotten up? - and grabbed the girl’s arm, hand clutching tightly at her, keeping her still.

“A-Adrien!”

“That’s enough.” He hissed at her, voice low and threatening. “If it wasn’t clear before, it definitely is now. You’re not Ladybug. She would never raise a hand to a civilian like that!”

“B-but - !” Lila tried to come to her ‘friend’s’ defense but was silenced when he shot her an equally terrifying look.

“I’ve had enough of you trying to turn everyone against Marinette. I knew you both were lying when you ‘accidentally’ revealed Ladybug’s identity to me yesterday, but I didn’t have proof to prove it. You’ve been lying to everyone about everything!”

Wait... The way he’d said accidentally... why did it seem so familiar?

Her thoughts of the blonde-haired, green-eyed model were very suddenly replaced with thoughts of a similarly blonde-haired, green-eyed superhero who’d come looking for her on his night off, asking if she’d ever ‘revealed herself, accidentally or otherwise’.

“Adrien! Y-you’re hurting me!”

Marinette’s eyes were drawn to the boy’s hand, still tightly clutching Bianca’s in a vice grip that would likely leave bruises.

But that’s not what she was focused on. Instead, it was the familiar shape of his silver ring that drew her eye. Familiar because she’d seen him wear it since the first day she’d met him and never took it off.

Except for the day they’d done the shoot for her website.

The day she and Chat had to switch Miraculouses.

Adrien.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Her kitty had been there the entire time.

That’s why he’d been so angry. That’s why he’d looked so upset. That’s why he’d come looking for her and asking such strange questions!

Because Lila and her lackey had chosen the one person who’d know for a fact that they were lying.

And if she thought she couldn’t love him any more than she already did, she was sorely mistaken.

“What is going on in here?!”

Great.

She didn’t pay much attention to the chaos that ensued after Madame Bustier had walked in the room. Lila and Bianca had claimed Marinette attacked and Adrien had stepped in to help her and they were both sent to the hall because a number of people started speaking up and coming to their defense, suddenly not blinded by Lila’s lies any longer.

But now, she was standing in the hall next to her crush and her partner.

“I’m so sorry Marinette.”

Her thoughts came to a startling halt as she turned wide eyes on him.

“I shouldn’t have ever told you not to call her out. I was stupid. I just hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

Marinette couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, because how could she not have noticed? Model or not, that was the heart of her partner beating in that beautiful body of his.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Adrien. Besides, at least you checked your sources.” She chuckled, finding so much irony in that statement. If he hadn’t come looking for her, she probably wouldn’t have put it together.

He turned a confused look on her.

The smile she turned on him in return was brighter than she’d given anyone in some time, “I told you, didn’t I? You’d be the first to know.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculous lb #ml fic #ml salt #mlsalt #lila rossi exposed #lila rosi lies #fake ladybug #imposter ladybug #ml class salt #protective adrien agreste #adrienette #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug fic #oneshot

6K notes · View notes

gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years

Text

bury your heart

cw: brain cancer and all its associated symptoms

read part two here

----

“Okay, here’s one,” Edward said. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

“Hm,” Jonathan murmured absently, fingers running through Edward’s hair. He resisted the urge to make the first dirty joke that came to mind. “When they’re a ruler?”

“Good guess,” he murmured. He reached up to catch Jonathan’s long nose between his forefinger and thumb. “But, no. When they’re bored,” he revealed, grinning loosely.

Jonathan pulled away, swatting Edward’s hand out of his face. “Yes, Edward, I’m aware you’re bored. I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“Entertain me.”

“Entertain yourself,” he retorted. “Read a book.” Edward made a face at that, somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. Realizing his mistake, Jonathan added, “Or listen to one of your stupid podcasts.”

“I keep telling you, the conspiracy theory podcast is not stupid and if you actually listened to it, you’d see that it’s very educational.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you flunked out of school if that’s what you consider educational,” Jonathan muttered. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, a small reminder lighting up the screen. Meds. He disentangled his fingers from Edward’s hair and slid out of bed, making his way into the bathroom.

“I didn’t flunk out,” Edward called after him. “I dropped out. There’s a difference. They didn’t fire me, I quit.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes but he didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. He took out his own medications—Lexapro, Clozapine, Zoloft—and then Edward’s. Promethazine for the nausea, Lorazepam for the seizures, Tramadol and Hydrocodone for the pain. And those were just the morning set. Jonathan tucked his pills into his cheek, dipping his head under the faucet to gulp them down with a mouthful of water. Then he brought Edward’s medication into the bedroom for him.

It had been a few weeks of this routine. Bringing Edward his meds in the mornings, again in the evenings. Smoothing his hair away from his clammy face as he vomited, knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the toilet. Watching him struggle to remember things, complete simple tasks.

Jonathan had seen some pretty awful things in his life. Gruesome deaths and life threatening infections and overdoses and people clawing their own skin off during toxin induced hallucinations. He had seen all of those things and yet this was still hard to watch. Maybe harder than anything else. The only thing keeping him from spiraling entirely out of control were the few painkillers he was able to sneak from Edward’s prescription. It took the edge off, kept him from thinking too hard about the fact that his friend was slowly dying in his home, his bed.

“Here’s another,” Edward said, swallowing his pills dry. He was at least in good spirits today, chattering away almost like his usual self. “We’re five little items of an everyday sort; you’ll find us all in ‘a tennis court’.”

“Vowels. That’s an easy one.” Jonathan sat back down on the bed and Edward wasted no time before depositing his head in Jonathan’s lap.

“Well, excuse me for not being at the top of my game,” he replied sarcastically. “The cancer makes it hard to think, you know.”

He tried to muster some kind of joke in response but nothing came to mind. He didn’t mind when Edward made light of his own illness, but for Jonathan to do the same felt incredibly inappropriate. Because it wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Maybe we could go somewhere today,” Edward suggested hesitantly, interrupting Jonathan’s thoughts. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

“Might I remind you that the reason you’ve been cooped up in here is because you’re too sick to stand half the time?”

“But I feel alright today,” he insisted. He sat up, getting out of bed with a labored groan to demonstrate. “See?” he said cheerfully, spreading his arms. The gesture just made it even more apparent how thin he’d gotten, how wobbly his stance was. “I’m standing. I might even take a few steps, really go for it, y’know?”

“I don’t know, you don’t want to go too crazy,” Jonathan said dryly. “You might hurt yourself.”

Edward crawled back onto the bed, kneeling beside Jonathan. The dark circles marring his pale, sallow skin were deep but his emerald eyes were bright, eager. “We could go play chess in the park,” he proposed. “That’d be alright, wouldn’t it? I could sit down, get some air. Get some sun, God, I could really use a bit of sun, look at the state of my skin.” He peered up at Jonathan. “What do you think?”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Later, though. I have things that need doing before I can go out.”

Edward grinned, his upturned nose bumping against Jonathan’s cheek as his balance wavered slightly. Quickly, as if to cover the slip, he pressed a kiss to the same spot. “Can I sit with you while you work?” he asked.

Jonathan frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The chemicals—”

“I’ll wear a mask,” he interrupted. “Please?”

“Edward…” He sighed. “I don’t think huffing a bunch of toxic fumes is advisable if you want to still be feeling alright by the time we go out.”

Edward pouted, pulling away. “How about a riddle?” he asked, sounding thoroughly glum. He tucked his legs up against his chest. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. “When they’re bored,” he answered, watching Edward’s reaction closely.

Edward just sighed, resting his head on one of his knees. “Gold star for Jonathan,” he said with a dejected twirl of his finger, unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

He swallowed. So Edward hadn’t realized. “You know you used that riddle before,” he said carefully.

His eyes darted over to Jonathan. “Really? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The silence between them was thick, heavy. “So you cheated,” Edward joked humorlessly.

“I guess I did.” Jonathan draped a long arm across Edward’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe I can… I suppose there are things I can work on outside of the lab. If you insist on having my company for the day.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” he mumbled.

“It’s no trouble.” He gave Edward’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s easier to let you watch me work than to come up with some other way to occupy your attention.”

He felt Edward smiling as he nuzzled against Jonathan’s neck. “I do require constant enrichment, after all.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “like a zoo animal.”

The comment earned him a swift smack on the leg from Edward. “Bastard,” he grumbled. “I have a terminal illness and this is how you talk to me? How would you feel if those were your last words to me, would you be satisfied with that?”

A lump rose in Jonathan’s throat. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said tightly. “And that’s not funny.”

“I think it is.”

He shot Edward an icy look. “I don’t.”

Edward balked, lowering his gaze as he relaxed against Jonathan’s chest. “Got to have fun somehow,” he muttered.

“Well I’m sorry it’s not fun for me to be reminded of your impending death,” Jonathan said tersely. “I suppose that is where our senses of humor differ.” He felt a flutter of something unpleasant in his chest and he forced it back down, forced his attention away from it. Jonathan started to get up from the bed, started to go to the bathroom to snag a couple painkillers. But before he could even make it off the mattress Edward’s fist had closed around the hem of his shirt and he was pulling Jonathan back towards him.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I’m…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He was frustrated with Edward for being so glib about his own mortality and he was disappointed in himself for not being able to do more and he was downright terrified of what would happen when Edward was actually, permanently dead. “I’m worried,” he finished lamely.

Edward’s grip tightened around his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jonathan pried Edward’s fist away from the handful of fabric, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know how to stop.”

#scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #batman #dc #fic #my fic #writing #my writing #cancer cw #i believe...... there will be a part two of this

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, infidelity, oral sex (female receiving)

Just Friends?

With his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, Keanu paced in front of her bedroom door, the words going over in his mind, playing on a constant loop. Ever since their kiss, or rather, series of kisses, in Paris on his birthday, things had been stiff with Emma. She was actively avoiding him, which was hard considering they were in the same suite, then the same plane, and obviously because she was taking care of his children. That didn’t stop her from trying though, avoiding sitting near him when they were at restaurants, taking her breakfast and dinner back to her bedroom when they dined in the suite and keeping the kids between them whenever they ventured out. Even after returning to L.A, she’d been cold, avoiding small talk, eye contact and the slightest of touches. No brushing hands on the rare event of having to pass each other something, no bumping into her in the hallway and definitely no spending more than five minutes in the same room together.

Truthfully, Keanu had missed her, and it had barely been two weeks. He’d surprised himself by holding up for that long, but wasn’t willing to bet that he could last any longer with the awkward tension between them. He’d missed her smile, her laugh, the ease that was usually shared between them, just everything. And that was why he was going to apologize; say he was sorry for letting things get out of hand when they were in France, ask if they could go back to the way things were and promise to do his best to keep things friendly on his end. Even if being her friend had started to grow increasingly difficult.

Taking a deep breath, Keanu stopped directly in front of the door, squeezing his fist tightly. There was no better time to apologize than that night; his mother had been dying to take the kids for the weekend and Miranda was still out of town. It was perfect, just the two of them, being nothing more than perfectly friendly.

“Just do it,” he urged himself, practically forcing himself to lift his fist to the door, though, just when he was finally about to knock, right before his knuckle made contact with the dark oak door, she pulled it open. Stunned Keanu just stood there, hand still raised in the air, eyes widening at her attire; a plain white, silk nightshirt, the top three buttons undone and the black lace of her bralette peeking out. The garment hung off one of her shoulders, and in her hand, Emma held a wine glass, a draining of red liquid left. In the background, indie rock played softly, definitely not audible with the door closed. “Em,” he cleared his throat, still surprised.

“Keanu,” she huffed breathily, using the had with the glass to nudge some of her freed tresses of of her face, “I thought you were out still,” obviously caught off guard herself, Emma turned away for a moment, “I didn’t hear you come back from dropping the kids off.”

“I’ve been here for a while actually,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He’d been mostly fine before laying eyes on her, but then, face to face with Emma was throwing Keanu off balance. It may have had something to do with how she was dressed, legs out and skin on show, but it was mostly because she was the woman he sometimes dreamed about, in ways that he shouldn’t have. “I wanted to talk to you,” trying to sound firm, Keanu straightened his back, “But if you were gonna do something-”

“I was just gonna get more wine,” she smiled sheepishly, dropping her hand to her side, still gripping the door handle with the other, “What’d you want to talk about?” Pursing her lips, Emma tilted her head to the side, slightly leaning against the open door and crooking one of her legs.

It was hard to focus when she was looking at him like that. Her eyes felt like they were seeing right into his soul and her plump, wine stained lips were deliciously inviting. “I want to apologize,” averting his gaze, Keanu cleared his throat, trying to chase away the fog in his brain, “For what happened back at the hotel.”

Before he could get any further, Emma knitted her brows, interrupting, “Keanu, you don’t have to apologize, I think I may have overstepped. You know?” She sighed deeply, “We were talking….and, things got out of hand.” There wasn’t really any logical way to explain what they'd or why they'd done it without exploring their feelings, and Emma seemed to know that just as well as Keanu, instead choosing to stumble around the topic to save them the trouble.

Nodding, Keanu returned his hands to his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them, “Maybe we both had a part to play,” he attempted to smile, but it faltered and Keanu knew that if he was being honest, he didn’t want to have to toe around his feelings for Emma, apologize for a kiss that had translated mutual longing. But he didn’t want to be the kind of man that would hurt two women in one go either. Miranda was the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t just back out on a promise like that. “You’re right though, things kind of just spun out of control. And,” he fumbled again, not even knowing if he was saying the right thing, while something in the back of his mind told him that he wasn’t really saying anything at all. “And…..it was inappropriate. I’m your boss.”

“And I’m your employee,” Emma seemed hesitant too, and there was a pained twinge in her tone that Keanu wished he hadn’t caused, “We should just…..”

“Go back to being friends?” He raised his head, and simultaneously, Emma shifted to face Keanu again, their eyes locking unexpectedly.

Her lips fell slightly ajar and she glanced at his mouth before meeting his eyes again. Emma’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her voice was a wavering whisper when she agreed, “Yeah, we should do that. Friends?”

Keanu stared at her for a solid minute before managing, “Friends.” Friends. Neither of them budged, an invisible string keeping their dilated stares steadfast. They were further apart than they had been on that faithless night. The night he'd guarded from his unsuspecting fiancée, and the same one they’d just barely addressed. But still, the space couldn’t have been far enough to vanquish the unscrupulous effects that they had on each other.

Keanu knew that their conversation should have been over, but they were both just standing there, unspeaking with Emma looking so astonishingly beautiful that one would have to be blind to deny the fact. She was giving him this look too, the kind where her eyes said so much that it was hard to pretend that there wasn’t something between them. Keanu liked that something, even if it was immoral and wrong, even if it would all just crumble to nothingness one day, he wanted it. And he wanted it to turn into more. “Fuck it,” Keanu mumbled, stepping forward and taking Emma’s face in his hands, crashing his lips to hers, tasting the red wine still lingering on her tongue. As if she’d been thinking it too, Emma draped an arm around his neck, clumsily setting her glass down on top of the dresser nearby before clutching a fistful of his t shirt.

Never breaking their feverish, passionate kiss, they stumbled back into the room. Gracelessly, with hurried movements, Keanu undid the rest of the buttons holding Emma’s shirt closed, letting it billow to the floor afterwards. The back of her knees hit the edge of her bed and, just after pulling off Keanu’s navy t-shirt, she let herself fall back onto the unmade sheets, crawling backwards towards the pillows. When he came to hover over her, Emma gazed up at him, almost in disbelief, one hand caressing his face while lithe fingers of the other trailed down his body, grazing the vertical scar dominating his stomach.

Keanu shuddered when she touched it, suddenly a little self conscious. It was from a time in his life where he was careless, reckless, and hadn’t yet cemented that actions had consequences. One stupid ride had left him with a permanent reminder that he wasn’t invincible, that one more wrong move and he might not have been where he was then. “Maybe we should turn the lights down,” he whispered, slowing down for a minute.

“Why?” Emma’s hand inched over his ear, tangling in his mane, while the other found the elastic band of his sweats. Having her beneath him was surreal, and the way she looked so underdressed in just a lace and silk bralette with matching high waisted panties while her hair created a sea of black on the pale yellow pillow, Emma looked ethereal, in the most sinful of ways. “I want to see you,” she whispered huskily, “All of you.” Shifting beneath him, she started pushing his pants down, bucking her hips up towards this hard on.

His touch skimmed her side, ghosting the contour of her full breasts, the slender dip at her waist and her sensuous curves, before his fingers hooked to her panties. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of his,” he divulged, lips descending on the heat of her neck. Licking up the delicate column, he only stopped to suck a bruise into the hidden spot just behind her ear lobe, listening intently to the way she reacted; a hissed inhale, followed by a hollow whine. “Have you ever thought of me?” Keanu probed, goosebumps raising on his skin when he felt her shove his pants down, the sides of her bare heels rubbing against his legs.

“Yes,” Emma admitted, pressing his face to her neck, feeling moisture gather in her panties, ruining the strip of cotton that served as the crotch, “Every time I fuck myself,” her moans were music to Keanu’s ears, “Every time we’re together,” still ravaging Emma’s neck, Keanu sneakily pushed her panties down, “I wish you were mine.”

“Good,” Keanu kissed his way lower, pausing only so they could finally finish undressing themselves. Taking one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth, Emma’s breath hitched and her eyes slipped shut at the feeling of his teeth grazing her skin, between intervals of his tongue swirling around the tip. Favoring her other boob with his large hand, he erotically squeezed and massaged, leaving Emma to dig into his forearm. “Sometimes all I can think of is you,” hastily, he mumbled between more open mouthed kisses travelling down her body, each one slow and lingering as he reached her hallowed stomach.

Upon reaching the top of her sex, Keanu grabbed Emma’s knees, pushing them upwards so her feet were planted flat on the bed and spreading her legs wide. “You’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue and lapping up a strip of heated arousal, “And you taste so fucking good.” Emma’s head lolled to the side and her hand urgently searched for the top of Keanu’s head, her nails grazing his scalp as she held onto a fistful of his hair.

His tongue flicked her clit just seconds before Keanu took the throbbing, swollen bundle of nerves between his lips. A pleading whine was cast out, and Emma bucked her hips, only for them to be restrained by Keanu resting his heavy palm on her stomach. “Fuck…..Ke….” she couldn’t even manage his name, and the pressure in the pit of her stomach built. His mouth worked her well, his tongue, versed beyond compare, fucking her perfectly as he introduced two rough digits to her nub, rubbing vigorously. “God,” her moans reverberated, complimenting the music that had already been playing.

Her little, pleasured sounds were incomparably intoxicating and the hardness of Keanu’s crotch was becoming almost too much to bear. “What do you want?” He raised his head a bit, proceeding to pepper kisses along the inside of her thighs as he awaited her answer. His fingers stayed on her cunt, sliding downwards to slip into her dripping entrance, while Keanu’s beard bruised her satiny skin.

Her throat burned and Emma could barely think straight, though, she knew what she wanted. She’d known for a while, “I want to feel you Keanu…..” her sultry words were slipping out without her full consciousness, using up the last bits of sensibility before she completely gave into her senses, “I want to feel you inside me.”

Tearing his mouth away, Keanu smirked when Emma emitted a frustrated sound as his fingers deserted her too. With his hands planted on either side of her petite frame, Keanu crawled up her body, once more taking a minute to admire her wanton state before capturing her lips, letting her taste herself. Arching upwards, Emma threw both her arms around him, her legs winding around his waist and trying to press him to her. “Please……” Emma begged huskily, “I’ve waited for so long…..”

“So have I,” Keanu pressed his forehead to Emma’s, slipping one of his large hands between them so he could line himself up with her sex, his tip teasing her folds. Pushing into her slowly, he swallowed up her lewd moan, trying not to lose himself in the way her tight walls cocooned him. Giving her a minute to adjust to his size, briefly pulling away to observe how her eyes had widened as her jaw hung slack. She felt so good, took him so well, like her body had been shaped to his.

He started by pulling out almost completely, the throbbing veins running along his shaft creating an unmatched, addictive friction, and then sliding back in, his pace steady and controlled. The slick sound of their bodies moving together joined the sinful symphony, though the sound of blood rushing in their ears was enough to drown it. Her nails raked up his back, the sensation painful and each time Keanu filled her the pleasurable burning between her was intensified. No one had ever stretched her so wide and no one had ever taken him so very well.

"Faster," Emma promoted, the tips of her glossy, polished nails sunk into his shoulder blades, “Go faster.” And as she pleaded, Keanu quickened his pace, one of his hands lowering to hold her hip in place, while the other stayed sunken on the soft pillow near her head. His balls slapped her core and the air swirling around the room started to feel warm, their passion heating it up.

His gruff, strained sounds were caught in his throat, his praises broken. Below him, with her head tossed to the side, the purplish bruises barely covered by her messy hair, the image of Emma was almost enough to get him off, though he could already feel her legs stiffening. Her breaths were ragged and Emma’s eyes were screwed shut, “Cum for me,” he gnarred, struggling to hold himself together, “I want to feel you, I want to feel everything.”

Still clawing at his back, surly leaving her own marks on his body, Emma whined quietly. Her toes curled as her high reached its crescendo and the heat brought with it a barely visible flush to her skin. Exertion dampened their bodies and loud, languid gasps ricocheted as her walls clenched around him. Keanu’s movements stiffened, restricted by her cunt squeezing his sheathed cock, though he still bucked his hip, rigidly, seeking his own release as Emma came around him, a gush of slick moisture coating their thighs and dripping onto the wrinkled sheets. “Keanu….” she sounded hoarse and out of breath, barely keeping up as he continued to ride out her high.

Just as her legs started slackening, going limp and lifeless around his waist, Keanu grunted, the pads of his fingers digging into her skin, simultaneously squeezing a handful of the pillow in his fist, as his climax creeped up on them. Faltering thrusts made his movements uncoordinated as ribbons of cum were spilt deep inside her. By then, Emma’s noise had softened, no match for the satisfied groan that reverberated Keanu’s chest, just before he collapsed on top of her.

“You just….we just….” Panting, Emma could barely manage a sated smile, threading her fingers through his sweaty hair, the guilt not yet catching up even as Keanu buried his face in the side of her hair.

A slight nod had his rough beard scratching her rosy cheek, and his hand skimmed her side, almost as if he were checking to see if she were real. “We did,” he huffed, swallowing thickly to quell the dryness in his throat. His mind was too fogged, his heart to contented to realize the gravity of what they’d done. But regardless, they were both sure of one thing; they’d certainly crossed a line that night.

So much for being just friends.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @nonsensicalobsessions

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #fanfic #nanny au #behind closed doors #fanfiction

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

off the grid | nine (final)

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 1.7k

chapter warnings: cussing, more insecurities and overthinking, crying, reminiscing, fluff

notes: here we are, folks! the final chapter to this series. i may post some drabbles later on and accept requests, but for now, i’ll keep this where it’s at. thanks for the love and support on this! head over to my kth fic called perfectly wrong if you’re looking for something a little messier lol

> series masterlist <

You took one last look around Yana's loft to make sure you weren't missing anything. You made sure her loft was spotless, doing loads of laundry and cleaning every inch to make sure it was ready for her arrival back home.

Once you were satisfied with your round, you sighed, giving the loft one last look with a tight-lipped smile. This place truly gave you the best memories by far. You look towards the living room, remembering the moment you shared with Jimin and how you both had confessed your feelings for each other.

It was something you were never going to forget.

You grabbed your purse and your luggage and made your way downstairs to the cab you called over to take you to the airport. The driver happily helped with your luggage before you took your position in the back seat and sat quietly. You held Jimin's polaroid album tightly, letting it sit on your lap as you reminisced once more on the memories you made in Seoul while the driver began to pull off.

The people you met. Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Jin.

The places you've been.

Jimin.

You were feeling a little unsettled as the ride continued because you were still questioning the decisions you've made. Was this truly it for you two? Were you really going to go back home without reconciling in any way with Jimin?

You flipped through the polaroids one last time, fixating on the very last polaroid of you and Jimin. You made many mistakes in the past, and you knew this would be the cherry on top if you allowed it to slip from in between your fingers.

Fuck this. This couldn't be it, and you were wrong for initially thinking so.

You've lived these past years in so much sadness and frustration, so much stress and pent up negative energy. You felt like you wasted so much time being unhealthily down in the dumps, and you were so damn tired. You came here to start over and do better for yourself and you finally found that reason that pushed you to do better. You weren't gonna do this to yourself, not again. You weren't gonna make this mistake. You weren't gonna let him get away. You weren't gonna go home feeling this empty. You were gonna be selfish, and you were going to do whatever that meant to you.

You abruptly told the cab driver you had a change in destination, and he drove back towards Jimin's address without any complaints. All of a sudden, the 10-15 minutes to get to his apartment complex seemed like forever. You were dying to get out of the cab, mainly afraid you'd miss Jimin and you'd miss your chance to do this.

God, if this was meant to be, please just let me talk to him.

When you finally arrived to the steps of his apartment building, you paid the cab driver heftily and dragged your belongings into the small elevator. As soon as you reached Jimin's floor, you rushed over to his door, pushing your belongings to the side. You knocked frantically, hoping someone was at least home.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Don't you have a flight to catch?" Taehyung looked at you worriedly.

"Yeah, but that's not important right now." You rushed in while Taehyung politely brought your things in and set them aside. "Is Jimin here?" You asked although you were already making your way to his room.

"No, he just left not too long ago." Your heart dropped.

"Fuck." You said to yourself as you ran your hand through your hair.

"I'm pretty positive he went to his parents' cafe. Do you need me to drive you there?"

"Please? I really need to talk to him." He nodded and grabbed his keys.

"Alright, come on." You and Taehyung rush out the door and hop into his car. You were praying that you'd find Jimin there, but you were hopeful. Jimin had always spent time with his mom and dad, besides helping out at their café. Your felt your heart beating against your chest, the anxiety skyrocketing every minute that passed by. Taehyung was doing his best to navigate the streets quickly, but safely, immediately understanding how important this was to you.

Jimin had been having a difficult time getting past this, being that all he really did was sulk in his room if he wasn't at the café. He didn't know how someone could come in and change his life the way you did. How he could fall so easily for you. But he was starting to think that maybe, you were right. Maybe, you had a point. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself so it would become easier to move past this.

It never got easier, though. If anything, it really didn't do anything for him. You continued to stay on his mind, 24/7.

And so, you and Taehyung finally arrive at the café. It's not too busy, with only a few people sitting inside, sipping on their drinks and eating pastries. You and Taehyung don't spot Jimin at the front, and only see his sweet mother. She smiles from ear to ear as she approaches the both of you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Y/N, I told Jimin to bring you over for Christmas, but he said you were busy getting ready to go back home. Isn't your flight today?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You pouted. "It is, but there's something I need to speak to Jimin about. Is he around?" She shook her head.

"We had him run some errands, but he should be here soon. Just wait here, I'll bring you two some drinks and pastries." She sat you both down at a table near the register, pouring you some coffee and Taehyung his favorite tea.

"Hey, don't worry. He'll be here soon." Taehyung flashed you a toothless, reassuring smile.

"Thank you for driving me here." He nodded. "I, um. I don't wanna go home like this. Even though, I'm not sure he'd want to talk to me after our stupid argument."

"He'll be happy to see you, Y/N. Trust me. Just be honest with him and let him know how you feel."

"You don't think he'll be mad?" He shook his head.

"No. I promise you." Before you know out, you both see Jimin's car pull up out front. He hops out of the car, bringing a few bags towards the back of the cafe. You couldn't wait for him to notice you, so you head outside to follow him. You stand there with Taehyung a few steps away, hoping he'd turn around and warmly greet you. Just as long as he didn't storm off all pissed, that's all that mattered.

Which, he doesn't. When he turns, his facial expression softens, and his whole body relaxes. He stands there in a puffy jacket, a white tee and jeans. He stares at you, slightly caught off guard as to why you were still lingering around when you had a flight to catch.

"Y/N?"

"Jimin." You ran straight to him, throwing your arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, I totally messed up. W-what I said, I didn't mean any of that shit and I was just so stupid. I-I don't wanna go home like—" You rambled on and on into his chest before pulling away from the hug you embraced him in, confusion plastered on his face as he couldn't understand what you said word for word.

"Woah, slow down. What is it?" You sighed as your face softened while caressing his cheek.

"Jimin, I'm sorry. I messed up. I didn't mean anything I said after we got home from the bars. It was stupid."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." He leans into your hand. "But, you have a flight to catch. We should probably get you going—"

"No, I don't care. I'm staying for a bit longer. I wanna stay with you. I want to be with you, I want us." You smile at him as the tears begin to well up in your eyes.

"I hope you don't feel obligated to do this in order to make amends." He says softly. "You know I'll understand and give you the space you need—"

"No, I'm not. My feelings for you," You paused. "My feelings for you run deep, Park. God, it's so frustrating. I didn't intend to fall in love coming here, but I did and it's the greatest feeling in the world knowing it's you. I've made a ton of mistakes in the past, but I wasn't going to let this be another. I wasn't going to let you get away. I wanna be selfish for once, and I wanna choose what will make me happy." You cupped his face with both of your hands as he smiled down at you, his hands resting on your wrists. "We'll figure this out, but for right now, lets just enjoy this as we are, in this time and space. I wanna do this ride with you and I hope you still do, too."

"Of course I do." He smiled down at you. "God, fuck, I really, really do." He held you tightly against his body. You wasted no time planting a kiss on his plump lips, smiling into it as he caressed your back and held you close. Everything about this felt so right, and you couldn't but feel complete. You couldn't help but feel like you have finally done things for yourself, reached new heights for yourself and finally let go of the past, leaving it to where it belonged.

And so, you, Jimin and Taehyung take this back inside, not giving one fuck about missing your flight or what the upcoming days will look like. You were extremely giddy from the spontaneity, and all you wanted to do was curl up in Jimin's arms, right where you were safe. You had never felt so free and so loved at the same time, surrounding yourself with your new friends, who cared for you, and Jimin, who absolutely adored you in every way possible. Being here, you had learned that it was just better to let go. Don't chase those answers or explanations. You keep fighting for you, because no one's got you like you got yourself.

Seoul had brought you that, paving a way for a new beginning that you were excited to conquer with Jimin by your side.

That holiday-solo-vacation love story didn't end up being so bad after all.

#bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin #park jimin #pjm series #pjm x reader #jimin x reader #off the grid #otg #writing

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Fort hurts Whirl's human Amica and Lost Light knows nothing but fear for months to come. How Ratchet managed to safe Fort is a miracle and how he avoided Whirl's attacks after the fact is a even bigger miracle and everyones convinced Primus is watching over Ratch

You must love angst anon, and I respect that and love it because this was so fun to write... in between the tears of course but that's what makes it GOOD. I changed the course of the prompt a bit because I'm so overwhelmed with possibilities I don't even know how to choose asdfghjkl...

Being impaled to the floor by a solid length of pipe had left him quite helpless from the start of the ordeal. Maximus had obviously intended as much, having aimed the solid length of pipe to avoid immediate critical damage whilst ensuring that if Whirl so much as struggled he'd risk fatal injuries. For all his self loathing, that was actually not a gamble he'd been willing to take with so many people he liked at risk. Between you and Rung he'd needed to stay alive and keep the big mech talking, because damn it all the two of you had given him a terrible case of the feelings, you especially. So he wasn't about to lose you to a temper tantrum.

Talking had been a strategy he'd made use of in the past, as bots who were in the middle of a conversation were statistically less likely to shoot, provided the topic of choice actually interested them. Luckily enough his past tended to fascinate most in the same way ship crashes did; they were so horrified they couldn't focus on anything else. He'd actually managed to connect with the unstable Autobot after a while though, using their similiar troubles with life to find common ground and keep that gigantic cannon from firing. He'd had the audacity to believe things might be okay after a few hours passed and no one got shot.

The problem was the gun didn't end up being what he should have worried about.

When the big bot finally got enough processor power gathered to realize he was being stalled, all hope of a peaceful resolution blinked out of existence, and so did any effort on his part to be calm. Reality seemed to crack as he watched Maximus grab you off the table. On instinct he'd made an effort to lunge and rescue you, but had succeeded only in straining some important chassis support as he fought against the pipe impaled through him, warping the metal retaining his most vital organs. Rung had tried to calm the situation down one final time, pointing out that Max wanted something that couldn't be given because his true tormentor was dead, but his words had proved useless.

His single optic had a perfect view of the way your little body spasmed when Maximus merely flexed his digits, your eyes growing wide as the almost delicate series of cracks marked far too many bones snapping in succession, something any bot could recognise as unhealthy. Perhaps it was just the spark shattering agony giving him hallucinations, but he could have sworn your eyes flickered to him before closing, a weak wheeze passing your lips before almost inaudible coughs brought up a splash of blood. It had dribbled down your chin, stopping only when your coughing faded to silence. Then you were so still...

He'd been told later that Maximus had looked horrified at your injuries, not that he cared then or ever would how the big bot felt about his actions. Because nothing mattered more than you, and thus nothing had mattered at all as your broken body was laid back down on the table you'd previously been resting on. Seeing you dead to rights in front of him had killed him in every way that did matter, leaving a spark that flickered only in the most basic sense of living, keeping him alive purely out of biological imperative, though there had been one other thing in fact. All that was left in his meaningless husk worth feeling was a kind of anger so intense and pure and molten it made stars seem chilly by comparison. Along with a pipe through his chest that was no longer enough to hold him down.

The armor and glass of his cockpit shredded easy as he fought his way off the floor, heedless to petty physical agony or self preservation as his long limbs worked to get him vertical again. Something strong and stubborn and frustratingly important had resisted fiercely as he tried to pull his body forward, leaving him to thrash like a fish on a hook whilst Rung tried to talk him down with words he didn't care to hear. The guy was a psychiatrist, didn't he know what insanity was, like trying to talk to a bot who was no longer living? A for effort though, he'd think looking back on it.

Finally that important piece of his insides had realized it was beat, snapping with such force his entire chest cavity collapsed in one portion and he came out of impalement sideways. Pink energon had flowed more like a small waterfall than a bleeding wound as countless important bits and pieces dangled from his warped and shredded chest, including the glowing orb of his spark chamber, but he hadn't cared in the slightest. A thankfully still working arm had secured a good grip on the pipe to pull it free as he rose to his pedes, single optic giving you one final glance as he stood to face your killer.

As expected, you were motionless. Why wouldn't you be? He'd been stupid enough to hope, stupid enough to be anything other than angry, and the gigantic target that had painted on him and you had finally attracted the attention of a cruel universe. The only thing he would have said to you was sorry, but being certainly dead meant that would do no good, so thankfully he had other ways of making things better.

Max had apparently lost a great deal of his fire after injuring you, as he offered frantic apologies for his actions and reasurances that he hadn't meant what he'd done. It was a sensible reaction from a bot truly not built to handle harming the innocent.

Seeing it had only made him angrier.

What followed had been a wrathful blur of spilled energon and shrieking metal on metal, with sparks flying and the shrapnel of shattered body parts splattering across the room. There had been pain, extraordinary pain, but none of it had been connected to his physical body. Rather, the spark he needed to repeatedly push back into the mix of battered organs in his destroyed chest felt like it was the epicenter of a kind of emotional supernova. For a mech who had known so much suffering, this was an impossibility made real; a greater level of grief than even he had experienced. It had to be what dying felt like for someone destined for the Pit.

Max had been down one limb by the time the security team had flooded the room, but that number had grown to two by the time any of them had actually attempted restraint. In their defense, they were well trained enough to spot certain suicide, and thus Max had been on his own in the fray far longer than anyone wanted to admit. Energon loss induced amnesia stripped most of what followed from his memory banks.

Ratchet had actually ended the fight, of all bots, a turn of events he'd find bitterly hilarious in hindsight. By shouting out that you were alive, and that he needed to surrender if the medics were going to have any hope of performing the lifesaving aid you needed to stay alive, he'd been granted the chance to hope. Said chance had doused enough of his fire to make him collapse in a mangled heap on the spot. Just knowing you might live had been enough to convince him to stop fighting at that moment, but as his optic had closed the main course of his plan had still been clear; make sure your killer follows suit if your condition changes.

That goal was probably the only reason he'd survived to wake up later.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #idw #tf #lost light #requests #my writing #my asks #anon #whirl #fortress maximus #fort max #human reader #rung #amica endura #self insert

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Text

On your 18th birthday, control of your life got placed in the hands of your soulmate. To gain back control and to meet the one fate had deemed your ‘perfect match’, you must find your soulmate, using the choices you make for each other to guide you together.

warning - swearing

word count - 1.7k

There was one thing you knew for certain. Whoever your soulmate was, he was a little shit. Whenever you were forced to make a choice, be it a trivial matter or an important one, your soulmate was guaranteed to pick the one that would ultimately fuck you over. Since you turned 18, you were never on time to class, made a point of embarrassing your friends in public due to the stupid stunts you were forced to pull, and were depressing to be around. Truth be told, it was rare to see a genuine smile grace your features these days.

The week before you met your soulmate had started off in one of the worst ways possible, with a purchase of bright red hair dye. After watching a tiktoker dye their hair for a dare, you had begun to ponder what you would look like with a different hair colour. Then, against your better judgement, you had begun to picture yourself with different hair colours, could feel yourself being tempted to dye it. If you had been in control of your choices, you would have quickly discarded the thought of dying your hair, let along dying it any of the ridiculous colours you were picturing. You supposed you had to thank whoever it was for not choosing the neon green.

But, bright red wasn’t much better.

When you walked through the halls of Karasuno, you attracted the stares of pretty much everyone you walked past. You could feel their eyes on you. You could clearly see the way people would lean into each other as they whispered about your appearance. You weren’t stupid. Out of everyone, you were the most aware of how awfully this colour clashed with your skin tone. It made you cringe whenever you looked in the mirror.

At lunch, Sugawara could hardly look at you without snickering. He’d already used most of his witty comments over text the previous night when you had sent an image to the group chat along with the words ‘fuck my life’. Daichi wasn’t much better, taking every opportunity to tease you. Meanwhile, you would sometimes catch Asahi just staring at your vibrant locks. It was after one of those stares that you snapped.

“Take a picture if you’re that mystified by it,” you spat, fingers clenching around your chopsticks as you stabbed a piece of meat. He blushed, looking back down at his food. This interaction just made Sugawara chuckle more, snorting as he took a sip of his drink. Kiyoko, who had been noticeably absent from the teasing, placed a calming hand on your shoulder, shooting Sugawara a stern glare.

“It really doesn’t look that bad,” she reassured, her glance around the table indication that she was daring one of them to disagree. “Besides, at least this will make it easier for you to find your soulmate.”

“Oh yeah, can’t wait to meet the asshole whose made my life a living hell since my birthday,” you replied, sarcasm heavy in your tone.

Truth be told, your only motivation for meeting them was to end this hell that you were currently experiencing. Once you had met your soulmate, they stopped being able to make your choices for you. Already, you were missing the freedom of being in charge of your own life.

The next few days weren’t much better.

On Tuesday, you were forced to run through the heavy downpour to school, using only your flimsy bag as an umbrella due to your soulmate’s interference. If you fell deathly ill, it would be all their fault as they even prevented you from sharing Kiyoko’s umbrella on the walk back home, which had been your main reason for staying behind to help out with volleyball practice.

On Wednesday, due to your soulmate deciding that sleeping during class was perfectly acceptable, you missed a large chunk of the English lesson. This meant you had to beg your classmates to lend you their notes, and also put you in a terrible mood when you went to meet up with your friends. In retaliation, you prevented your soulmate from purchasing the next Shonen Jump, something you knew they were obsessed with as the choice occurred frequently. You also forced them to pay attention during class for a change, which you were sure would leave them exhausted as you had made sure they stayed up late the previous night.

On Thursday, you were indeed suffering from a cold. Though your soulmate had the heart to allow you access to medicine, you still had to make your way to school, head pounding and a stuffed nose to boot. You spent the morning huddled in your coat with a face mask on to stop others from catching it too. When your teacher said you could go home at lunch time, you almost let out a cheer.

Friday was unusually calm. You had recovered from your cold. Each choice your soulmate chose lacked their usual malice. The day was almost reminiscent of those before you had turned 18 until you received a message from Kiyoko asking if you were coming to the watch the final of the Spring Interhigh Qualifiers. Karasuno would be playing Shiratorizawa.

Originally, you had been planning on going to support your friends. However, after the week you had suffered through, you were painfully aware of all the work you had left to catch up on. You were stuck, unable to choose between the two options. Your head told you to not go, and eventually won you over when your gaze fell on the pile of school work you had yet to complete piled on your desk.

But, it was not your choice to make.

Against your will, you found your fingers tapping on the screen, confirming that you would be going to watch.

The next day, you were out of the house exactly on time, as punctual as if you were in control of your choices. It was this unusual punctuality that warned you of what might await you at Sendai Gymnasium.

Upon arrival, you sent a quick message to the group chat. Shockingly, it was Sugawara who was the first to reply, telling you that they were currently warming up on court. Clearly not everyone is entirely focused on warming up, you thought, quickly hurrying over to the court so you could wish your friends a quick good luck before making your way up to the cheering section.

Opening the door, you popped your head through, making eye contact with Kiyoko, who ushered you inside. You gave her a small wave before you made your way over to Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara, painfully aware of the stares coming from the other side of the court. You rubbed the back of your neck anxiously, feeling unsettled and nervous. Trying not to let that show on your face, you forced a smile, holding out your arms to embrace them in a hug.

“Good luck, boys,” you said. “You’ve got this.”

You shot them a thumbs up as you made your way over to Kiyoko to give her a quick hug and some words of encouragement. Before leaving the gym, you shouted over your shoulder to the rest of the team, “Good luck! Go Karasuno!”

There was a chorus of ‘thank you’ from the other members that almost masked the words uttered from the other side of the court, where Shiratorizawa were currently warming up.

“I think that might have been her.”

“Might have been who?”

“My soulmate, Wakatoshi.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Along with Yachi, you sprinted out of the stands and down towards the court. Karasuno had won. It felt surreal. You were giddy with the rush of pride you felt. Though not having played a role in their development as a team, you had been there to witness most of it and knew exactly how your fellow third years were probably feeling.

It was Kiyoko you spotted first, and you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a bone-crushing hug as you both jumped up and down. Next came your three friends on the team. You didn’t hesitate, running forward and launching yourself at them. It was at that moment, with your arms wrapped around your closest friends that you felt the tug of your soulmate’s needs. It was time for them to make a decision.

Go up to her or let her celebrate with her team.

A gasp escaped your lips as you pulled away from the embrace, glancing around trying to discern who may be waiting for you to make your choice. Without wasting another moment, you made the decision.

Go up to her.

It was at that moment that your gaze was drawn to the other side of the court where a tall figure with hair as red as yours was dyed was stood waiting. Almost against his will, as if he wasn’t expecting, he began to move towards you. His lips twitched at the corner, giving you a teasing smirk. He held out his hand to you, that smirk still twisting his mouth. You reached out and took his outstretched hand.

“Hi. I’m Tendou Satori.”

The moment your skin touched his, you felt it. That connection between you. Here he was. Your soulmate.

“You’re a fucking teasing piece of shit,” you spat. You couldn’t help yourself. The words slipped out, guided by the animosity you had been harbouring towards this individual for months now.

“But it was fun, no?”

“Fun?” you seethed. “Making someone dye their hair this shitty colour is not my definition of fun.”

“But, it was the reason we found each other, and you weren’t the nicest with your choices either,” he pointed out, probably remembering his sleepless nights and copies of Shonen Jump he had yet to purchase. “So, in return, let me take you out sometime. After all, fate has decreed that we are a perfect pair.”

You let out a huff, not able to argue with his logic. “As long as you pay.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #shiratorizawa x reader #soulmate au #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou imagine #tendou oneshot #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fluff #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #karasuno

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bubbashawn · 4 years

Text

Vanity Fair

author: I couldn’t help myself. If that video didn’t mess with your head, I’m not sure what will. Plus I wanted to give y’all the fluffiest fic so here’s this cutie. Hope you like it.

synopsis: Shawn meets the girl of his dreams and can’t keep his eyes off of you and the fans have it all on video

warnings: it’s just 2.6k of pure fluff. No fights and there might be one or two baby swears here and there. There’s mentions of anxiety and y/n is famous. Enjoy <3

Shawn shouldn’t be staring at you.

Andrew would be on his back later for not taking advantage of the carpet. Smile at the paps and share a laugh with a couple of interviewers. There was nothing to it. But he couldn’t stop staring.

He knew who you were, hell he had stalked your Instagram on more than one occasion. He knew you’d be here too. You’d taken Hollywood by surprise popping up out of nowhere. So, of course you were at the Vanity Fair Oscar party. Everyone was.

He wished his stylist, Tiffany, had taken a risk that evening when choosing his suit so he could walk up to your dazzling form and look good standing near you.

He stayed where he was and just glanced back at you, that was good enough.

You were a nervous wreck but you hid it well. Here you were with names you grew up with when not even 6 months ago you were at your dorm room watching them on your tv. Now a college dropout and walking on the red carpet for an Oscar party, everything felt surreal.

You looked the part in your champagne colored silk dress. Your skin was airbrushed hiding every imperfection except that aggravating mole below the arch of your right eyebrow. You looked perfect but that didn’t mean you felt it. Your nerves had been pushed to the max and you had lashed out more than you’d ever like to admit. You weren’t ready for this lifestyle, you hadn’t grown up with eyes on you, you weren’t even popular in High School.

Everything had been a blur since you stepped out of your car, the flashes and yelling made you wince already feeling a headache. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to handle any of this.

You were paying so close attention to your heel-clad feet you didn’t notice the tall singer watching you several feet ahead. And though you didn’t, the fans did. Shawn suspected to see about 10 different videos of his head turning back to glance at your figure again and again surface by morning.

One interviewer, a woman from ENews asking about his love life, had to nudge him so he’d answer her question. He didn’t know the answer.

“So,” the interviewer interrupted his thoughts, “you’ve been spotted around Toronto recently with a girl on your arm. Want to tell us about that?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hailey Baldwin and you, any comments?”

“We’re going to attend the Met Gala together in May, so just building up our friendship.”

“And that’s all it is?” The interviewer was smiling and speaking with a coy tone, “just a friendship?”

“Yes,” he hated this topic, “thank you.”

He walked away before the lady could open her mouth. He was being rude but Shawn didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk to anyone except maybe you. That wouldn’t happen, he was sure, but that’s all he wanted.

You swore to yourself as you lightly stumbled away from your own first interview and tried to quickly yet confidently escape into the party. Barely lasting 2 minutes in the eyes of the public before your breath was trembling like your rapid heartbeat. You couldn’t handle even sending a half-ass smile to one photographer. You wanted to go home and curl into your couch with popcorn and caramel dip. You wanted to leave. You saw your manager waving you along towards a lady with a microphone and you were out of luck. You couldn’t walk away, you just had to get through this interview and then you could be done.

That’s what you told yourself.

Shawn was glad to be watching you closely in that moment. He saw the terror grace your soft features as the ENews lady beckoned her along, dying for a word in with the rising star. He knew he’d make a fool of himself but he was fine with that, as long as you were happy to escape with him.

He pushed towards you. His hand lightly brushing your wrist to pull your eyes to his for the first time that night. Shawn couldn’t help the smile that pressed into his cheeks.

“Hey,” you stood shell shocked, “I’m Shawn.”

His voice came out choked and he cursed himself. Finally having your attention and he couldn’t even speak properly.

Shawn’s voice came out like honey and you melted under his hazel eyes. He was by far the most handsome man to ever grace your life with his presence. Zooming in on your phone screen hadn’t given his dimple and cheek scar the justice it deserved. He was stunning.

“H-hi, um I’m-”

“Y/N. I know.”

Shawn cringed at the way he cut you off and basically expressed his obsession right to your face. He was so stupid for thinking he could ever carry a conversation with you.

You gasped so loud it was almost embarrassing but it didn’t matter because he knew you. Shawn Mendes knew you. You could feel your heart pound and blood pulsing through your neck straight to your burning cheeks. You were sure your cheeks were bright red and you dropped your head to hide them.

He watched the tendrils of hair cover your flushed cheeks. He had made you blush and his grin widened with pride. Maybe this wasn’t going so bad.

“I saw you being dragged towards your next interview and had to cut in.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, trust me you don’t want to go to that interview.”

“Can’t get much worse…”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, um,” you were crumbling into yourself. Of course you were silly enough to let it slip to the Shawn Mendes that you were a mess. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself, “it’s nothing.”

You were shying away from him and he wasn’t sure how to pull you back into reality with him. He didn’t know when he messed up but he wanted you to tell him everything.

“Wait,” his hand was hovering over your waist, letting you choose whether or not to indulge his impending question, “tell me what’s going on, eh?”

You cursed his Canadian ways. Shawn was so polite and wanted you to rely on him. You wanted to too, so bad especially with the way he kept his eyes on you.

“I’m not good at this, I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s all just overwhelming. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. God, sorry you have to deal with this.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiled when your hand began to fidget with the lapel of his jacket, “I’m glad I’m here. With you.”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand had finally rested on your exposed waist once your hands took purchase against his chest. You had the most genuine smile adorning your face, probably the happiest one he’d seen since you arrived minutes ago. He leaned down closer cupping your cheek in his palm keeping your eyes away from the intruding cameras.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” He smiled softly, “nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll stick by your side as long as you need me, eh?”

You wanted him by your side forever.

He wanted to be by your side for as long as you’d let him be.

“Alright Y/N, your move.”

His eyes were beckoning you into his warm embrace so you did just that. Hands curling around the small of his back. Shawn quickly latched his own around your shoulders, his bicep blocking your face from view like his hand once did.

“Please just stay with me for the rest of the night?”

You were shy in contrast to your bold move of embracing him. He didn’t seem to mind the change in your demeanor.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” he tensed regretting his pet name, he started pulling away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said th-”

You just hung to him tighter your anxiety setting in as he tried to separate his warm body from your shaking one.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Shawn was broken away from his dazed state when his manager, Andrew, tapped his shoulder.

“Hey man, let's get you two inside, yeah?”

Andrew didn’t ask questions and Shawn had never been more thankful for the older man. His head dropped from above yours so his lips could graze your cartilage piercing.

“Baby, I’m gonna bring you inside, okay?” He didn’t dare move from your grasp until your head nodded against his clavicle, “alright, honey I’m right here.”

Shawn and you stopped to pose together and ignored the shouts of rumors about your relationship with the man beside you. You continued the steady crawl along the carpet until Shawn was opening the door for you and finally getting you out of the spotlight.

He didn’t think twice before latching onto your frame.

“Honey, you did so well.”

“I could not have done that without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you either way.”

Shawn had stuck to his word not once leaving your side throughout the entire party. He took you with him to grab a drink and held your back tightly to his chest as he conversed with all the A-listers. All eyes were on the two of you and you didn’t mind for once.

“Baby, you alright?” He had leaned down and whispered at some point amidst the chatter.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay. Just a little longer, yeah?”

He was right. Not even an hour later Shawn was quickly pulling you out of the party and towards the line of cars. Paps had you surrounded but your head just stayed pressed between his shoulder blades until he was slipping into the car after you.

“Hey, you okay?” He had asked that a lot throughout the night, “honey?”

You were basically half asleep on his shoulders and it wasn’t surprising. Your anxiety had always made you sleepy and Shawn’s welcoming scent didn’t hurt. You just wanted to cuddle into his chest. His arms would wrap around you and you would feel safe just like he had made you feel on the carpet.

“Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?” He didn’t want to.

“Can I stay with you?”

His heart fucking leaped out of his chest and a bright smile bloomed on his lips. He was so happy. It wasn’t that you just needed someone. Maybe you needed him.

“Yeah,” he glanced up towards Jake, his security guard, “can you get us back to the hotel?”

“For sure and I’ll be sure to take it slow, don’t want to startle her.”

“Thanks, man.”

Jake was true to his word, not letting the car hit any bumps that might jostle your position in Shawn’s arms. The normally 3 minute drive from the Wallis Annenberg Center to the hotel took 5, but Shawn didn’t mind. Soon enough the car slowed to a stop and he had to begrudgingly move you out of his arms to stand up in the parking garage.

“Baby,” you groaned as the bright lights washed over the car, “I know, I know. C’mon you can curl up once we’re upstairs, yeah?”

Shawn guided you along and ignored the looks as he pressed the up button by the elevator. You two were a sight to see. Your formal wear sticking out like a sore thumb among the city's tourists.

He hurried you into the mirror-walled elevator and held you to his chest as the contraption travelled up all 12 stories of the Waldorf Astoria: Beverly Hills hotel. He whispered sweet nothings that left you giggling as you went to his front door. Shawn swiped his keycard before letting you into the suite.

“Y/N? Honey? Can I get you anything? Water or maybe some tea?” You just shook your head, too absorbed in the stunning view of Los Angeles.

Shawn couldn’t believe he had only met you hours earlier seeing that he was completely wrapped around your dainty finger. He just admired you from a distance. Taking in the bareback silk dress that had caught his eye the moment your heel touched the ground at that party. He pushed himself off the wall he had leaned against before shuffling his shoeless feet towards you. His hands found your waist and you were pressed to his chest again. His nose dipped into your hair and lips kissed behind your ear next to your cartilage piercing, something you figured he liked based on the attention it received throughout the evening.

“Are you still tired?” He knew you were but wanted to let you have control to ease your anxiety all the more.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then, let’s get some sleep.”

Shawn guided you down the hall and through the bedroom heading toward the ajar door to the bathroom suite. You were confused and let out a squeal as he lifted you but let him place you gently on the counter. He shuffled through his ziploc bag with toiletries until he pulled out a face wash with a proud smile. Shawn pumped the cleanser onto his hands before lightly scrubbing the products from your face. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied every piece of dirt was wiped from your face as he used a wet washcloth.

You looked so pretty like this.

He held your face in his hands and lightly kissed that stupid mole below your brow. He just held you to his lips until his hands took purchase in your hair. Shawn watched the elegant hairstyle be pulled apart as he removed each bobby-pin.

You looked gorgeous like this.

He lifted you again until your feet were on the tile between his own. He guided you to sit on the bed murmuring something about staying awake a little longer but you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were practically glazed over with happiness. The way Shawn took care of you was unlike anything else.

He quickly rifled through his suitcase cursing his messy tendencies until he came across a worn thrifted Queen shirt. He looked back to see you staring at him with a look of pure adoration and he wondered how your eyes would shift if they held love instead. Shawn broke his line of thought and placed the shirt in your hand.

“Honey, I’m going to change in the bathroom while you change here, alright?”

You nodded through your yawn.

The boy returned to the bedroom, not before knocking to check you were clothed, and stepped up to the bed. He laid out on the comforter before making grabby hands at your figure staring down at him.

“C’mere baby,” he folded you into his arms, “is this okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you, um do you need anything else?”

Your head shook against his chest and you moved closer letting your nose and lips brush his neck.

“You’ll tell me if you need something, yeah?” He barely whispered against your skin.

“Bubba, everything is perfect.”

He smiled at the pet name and squeezed your hip. Happiness was basically emitting in waves from his body.

“There is one thing…”

He almost missed the mumble against his neck.

“Baby?”

“Wake up with me?”

“Hey,” Shawn kissed your temple, “I’d love nothing more.”

Your face shifted and he nearly whimpered when your lips pulled away from his neck, missing your warmth. He watched you quietly, waiting patiently.

His lips were softer against your own than you had expected. Shawn had his lips everywhere all night but nothing prepared you for the feeling of yourself pressed to him. He was shocked and almost let you pull away before crashing his lips to yours in a blistering kiss. Your eyes locked with his until he pulled you back into his neck.

“Bubba?”

“Mmm.” He hummed with closed eyes and a bright smile.

“Your move.”

permanent tag list: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

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1doll-4u · 4 years

Text

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 — 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bakugou x fem! reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,835

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: Hi! Love your writing! I was wondering if I could request a one shot about Bakugo and female reader? Where they’ve been dating for a while and they decide to tell the rest of the class (or someone finds them kissing?). *fluff* Thats all! You don’t have to of course.. I’ve never actually requested anything from anyone before <:3. Have a nice day (night?)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: bakugou and you have been dating for a few months but haven’t told the others. some of bakugou’s idiot, ‘friends’ finds the two of you at an amusement park and takes a few pictures to send to the group chat..

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cussing, a lot of fluff, horrible writing

𝐊𝐄𝐘:

꒰ 🌱 ꒱ - flashback

𝐀/𝐍: lowercase intended + this is so long- i was dying while writing this, the struggle do be real (´；ω；`)

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄 | 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈 | 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 — 𝐌. 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“watch where you’re going, brat.” bakugou pulls you closer to him by the waist, narrowly bumping into a stranger.

“i’m sorry, it’s kind of difficult with this giant bear in my hands.” you emphasize your point by thrusting the teddy bear in bakugou’s face.

bakugou scoffs and pushes the oversized plushie back, “if you don’t like it then just get rid of it.”

internally bakugou doesn’t want you to throw it away. he won it for you by playing one of those dumb booth games. at first he was against playing it but seeing how much you wanted that black teddy bear, he gave in.

in the end it was worth it because he got to see that look of pure admiration from you. he would never admit it, but it made his ego swell.

the worker who ran the game booth wasn’t so happy that bakugou completely wrecked one of the character stands. out of compensation, bakugou paid for the damage. (you convinced him to after a bit of arguing).

“no, i do like it, it’s just hard to hold..” you struggle to lift the teddy bear that is practically your size, higher so it doesn’t touch the ground. bakugou looks on, amused by your little problem.

“then give it to me, i don’t want to hear you complaining for another hour,” bakugou grumbles, opening his arms for the teddy bear. you give it to him and he slings it over his back like a backpack.

“don’t be so rough with mr. snuffles,” you chide, giving bakugou a light smack in the forearm.

“mr. snuffles? that’s a stupid name.” bakugou comments, clearly unaffected by your weak blow.

you pout at his remark and look away playfully. in your relationship you like to mess with bakugou. acting like a brat and not giving him any attention can make him surrender to you in mostly any situation.

bakugou sees this and groans quietly, “are we really doing this now?” bakugou’s shoulders slump when you don’t respond or even look at him.

part of him finds your little grumpy face to be adorable. it reminds him of a little spoiled child. (which you basically are when you are with him). your brows are slightly furrowed and your puffed out cheeks are tinted with a natural blush. you look like a mildly irritated chipmunk.

bakugou stops himself from smiling at his own thought and looks away from you. he knows what he has to do to gain your attention again.

“i’m sorry..” bakugou mumbles out. you barely catch onto it through all the bustling from others around the both of you.

“hm? what was that?” you urge him on, still looking away.

“i’m sorry, okay? mr. snuffles..isn’t a stupid name,” bakugou repeats his apology. it was almost painful for him to say the last part.

you take a glance at him and hold back a giggle. he looks so cute with his usual grouchy looking face. his face has a faint pink hue, barely visible by all the neon lights surrounding the two of you, and his eyes are focused forward.

the contrast between his muscular build and the giant fluffy teddy bear is quite endearing in a way. you would never think someone like bakugou would have such a cutesy plushie.

“mr. snuffles and i will accept your apology, but..” you trail off and advert your eyes for a second to add a dramatic effect, “you need to take a picture with us to really receive it.”

bakugou lets out a sigh, not even hiding it at this point, “fine, but only one picture.”

it took you a moment to really process what he said. the bakugou katsuki just allowed you to take a picture of him without any protest. are you dreaming?

excited now, the both of you settle in a spot where it’s less crowded and take the picture- or well pictures. yes, bakugou did say only one but you couldn’t help it. you want to capture this moment and look back at the pictures.

this is one out of many dates you’ve had with bakugou in the two months that you’ve been together. it is hard for him to make some time for you but he always manages to do it.

sense he attends u.a. he can only meet up with you on the weekends. sometimes he visits you after a school day if he isn’t training or busy. you know his schedule is pretty pact so you never complain about not spending every second with him. he wants to become a strong hero which is something you respect.

his dedication to becoming a hero and being a good boyfriend are both very high. you don’t attend any hero school because you personally don’t think you are cut out for it. being in the spotlight and working under pressure is something you just aren’t comfortable with.

you plan on simply living a normal life, graduating high school, continuing to work at your family owned florist shop, and maybe even partaking in an art related career. drawing isn’t something you think you are particularly good at but you would still like to try it out.

your quirk isn’t anything special. any emotion you feel can be shared with others. a sort of, ‘aura’ surrounds your body and the color depends on your mood. if you’re sad, others around you will feel sad too.

it surprises you how far you’ve both grown from the first time you met up till now. bakugou met you in your little florist shop.

꒰ 🌱 ꒱

he walks into the shop, looking somewhat paranoid as he observes all the flowers.

you stand behind the counter and busy yourself by arranging flowers that don’t need to be arranged. when you first lay eyes on bakugou you find his presence to be..odd. he looks brash and rough, someone that wouldn’t be shopping for flowers.

then again there are different types of people. you shouldn’t judge their personality by their looks. he is good looking and looks about your age. you wonder if a girl broke his hard exterior and made that scowl turn into a sweet smile. that could be why he’s here. finding a beautiful bouquet just for a little lover.

bakugou continues to look around, it becoming apparent that he’s having a mini dilemma. he doesn’t want to ask you for advice but he honestly doesn’t know what flowers to choose. stalling for a few more minutes, he finally brings up the energy to walk up to you.

“may i help you?” you stop organizing the flower displays and fully turn your attention to the ash blonde.

“can you..help me choose,” bakugou asks, almost reluctantly. his voice is raspy and low but it suits him.

“of course, what is the occasion for? a lover perhaps?” you surmise, eyeing a cute gift bag in one of his hands. it was see through so you could make out a heart shaped package inside. maybe chocolates?

the blonde suppresses a gag at your words and the heat creeping up his cheeks. he roughly corrects you, “no, it’s for..something else.”

you don’t believe him but urge him to be more specific, “and what is this, ‘something else’ ?”

bakugou shifts in his spot, his face only growing warmer. he doesn’t want to admit why he’s here, in a damn flower shop but what else can he do? he shouldn’t have come in the first place..

“..it’s for my mother’s birthday.” bakugou finally spits out. instead of looking away like he wanted to, he stares straight at you with glaring red eyes, daring you to laugh at him.

you didn’t expect that answer. who knew someone like him would be a mommy’s boy? quit judging people (y/n), it’s not nice.

“what’s your mother’s favorite color? would she like a big bouquet or a small one?”

“how am i supposed to know that??”

now bakugou really wishes he hadn’t come to this stupid shop. he only came because he knew it was a small shop where he probably won’t be spotted by any of his crappy classmates from school. it had great reviews online and looked good enough of a place to come. he didn’t know he’d need to know stuff like his mother’s favorite color to pick simple flowers.

“aren’t you close with your mother? isn’t that why you are giving her a gift?”

the blonde silently fumes at your questions, irritated that you aren’t just suggesting some flowers that he can buy and get the hell out of the shop faster.

“that’s none of your business, now are you going to help or not??” bakugou’s voice increases in volume. he looks quite red in the face from his growing impatience.

“well, it would help if you knew some of her preferences,” you look away from him and lightly brush your fingers over some flower petals near you, “and to think i thought you were a momma’s boy.”

you know teasing costumers is highly inappropriate but you can’t help yourself. the boy just looks so cute when he’s mad.

“huh? what the hell did you call me??” bakugou’s voice booms in the small shop. his face a bright red after being riled up. who do you think you are calling him a momma’s boy?

you crack a smile at the angry boy and continue on talking, “maybe we should focus on meanings..what kind of message would you like to give through flowers?”

“how about, ‘you are annoying and should stop being a hag.’” bakugou sarcastically says, following up with a dry smile.

you give a disapproving look and tsk, “that isn’t very nice to say about your mother..but maybe pink lilies? they symbolize prosperity and abundance.” you point to the bouquets of lilies.

he takes a look but shakes his head, “no, they’re ugly.”

“how about snapdragons? they signify strength and graciousness.”

“no, those are ugly too.”

“then what flowers do you find not ugly? you aren’t exactly giving me any sort of information to help you.” you let some tone slip through to really show that you are serious. this boy truly is an enigma. first he gives you nothing to hang on to and now he’s being picky?

“something..that doesn’t make a lot of mess.” bakugou isn’t sure what he’s really looking for. he has no clue about flowers. the only reason he even decided to get them was because his mother would probably talk his ears off for not getting any for her.

“hmm, what is your mother like? like what is her personality? is she calm? kind?”

“she’s loud and irritating.”

“pink hydrangeas are out of the way because they could be messy..what do you think of pink tulips? they don’t have many petals and are very pretty. they express happiness and confidence. if she’s anything like you, this could be a good message.” you gesture to the flowers you mention.

“what do you mean, ‘if she’s anything like me?’” bakugou is taken aback by your backhanded..compliment? he isn’t even sure what that was. you have some bite in you for a girl that looks fairly nice on the outside.

“you have a very confident..aura, i’m not sure how to explain it. i think it’s part of my quirk but i’m not sure.”

now that piqued his interest a bit. what would your quirk be? and why is my face getting warm?? probably something weak sense you don’t seem like the type to attend a hero school. then again..deku didn’t seem like the type either. bakugou stops his train of thought from spiraling down further. he doesn’t need to know useless stuff like that. he’s only here for one thing and that’s shitty flowers.

he studies the flowers and makes his decision. “these are fine..”

you nod and prepare the bouquet slowly. to be honest, work has been going slow and it’s rare for a cute boy your age to come by. old people and young couples usually come by every few hours.

bakugou, although a little irritating, is enjoyable to be around. (and tease). you really don’t want him to go and let you suffer another few hours of loneliness.

once the bouquet is done you give it to him after he pays for it.

“it was really nice meeting you even if you did give me some trouble, momma’s boy. happy birthday to your mother,” you grin, teasing him once more.

“..stop calling me that, my name is bakugou, flower girl.” bakugou doesn’t know why your smile makes him feel strange or why he even told you his name but it doesn’t matter now. he won’t ever see you and your dumb face again.

꒰ 🌱 ꒱

for some reason bakugou just couldn’t get you out of his head after that.

when he returned home and thrusted his gifts in his mother’s face, his mother was surprised by the gesture and even started to tear up. it was awkward..especially the part where she trapped him in a death hug.

she placed the bouquet in a clear vase with some water in the living room. whenever bakugou walks passed it he remembers you. what’s so special about you? you don’t have a flashy quirk, you don’t look like you go to u.a. or any other hero school..

you’re pretty, have a nice voice, and a good sense of humor. (at least he thinks so from the short interaction). you don’t act like a total pushover and stood up when he was annoying you. wait, why am i thinking about this??

bakugou visited your flower shop two days after that. he made excuses to come by and bought flowers when he didn’t need to. his mother grew curious at bakugou’s sudden interest in flowers so she questioned him like any mother would.

that ended with his mother having a suspicion that her own son has a secret lover. she was thrilled by the possibility and urged her son to invite her over one day. (bakugou scoffed at the idea but on the inside his heart was pounding).

he did end up spending more time with you and going on official dates. the differences between the both of you are what keeps you two inseparable.

a few feet from the two of you stood three idiots.

“that is bakugou!”

“then who’s the girl??”

“it looks like his girlfriend.”

kaminari zooms in on bakugou and you with his phone, taking a few pictures when the two of you stop walking. he looks back at them with kirishima and sero.

“she’s pretty cute,” kaminari comments, looking at the pictures closer.

“dude, you shouldn’t say that! she’s bakugou’s,” kirishima scowls, hitting the blonde upside the head.

“ow! i’m sorry, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

“...”

“yeah.”

“to be honest, i would never expect bakugou to have a girlfriend, let alone a girl like that.” sero says, pointing at you in the picture to emphasis his point.

“yeah, she does look really soft, in a good way.” kirishima agrees.

“that sounds creepy..” the raven haired boy gives kirishima a disgusted face. kirishima’s eyes widen after registering his words.

“no! i-i didn’t mean it that way, i swear!” the red haired boy waves his hands frantically in front of him as if that could help ward off his odd words.

“we should tell the others in the group chat! they have to know about this!” kaminari swipes his phone from the other two and texts the group chat.

“wait! but isn’t bakugou going to get mad? i don’t think it’s a good idea..” kirishima tries to pull the phone away from kaminari but kaminari keeps dodging him.

“no, he won’t be if we just keep it a secret. everything will be fine.” kaminari waves him off and sends the pictures as proof.

“i don’t know about this..” sero rubs the back of his neck nervously, practically feeling all the bad things that will unfold from this.

the next day bakugou enters his homeroom and notices something is off. everyone quiets down and stares at him as if he’s some sort of alien. what the fuck?

he glares back at them and they back off, continuing their chatter from before but more hushed.

“hey, bakubro, do you wanna hangout after school? maybe we can practice training together again. it’s been awhile,” kirishima inquires subtly as he walks up to the blonde’s desk.

“no, i have shit to do. train by yourself, i’ll just keep beating your ass like before and you’ll barely improve.” bakugou brushes him off dismissively.

“aww! come onnn, bro. i’ll be sure to show more progress. i have gotten better at my blocks and reflexes.” the red head whines and places his hand on bakugou’s shoulder, leaning down to be eye level with bakugou’s sitting form.

bakugou jerks his body away from kirishima and lets out an annoyed growl. “can you shut up?? i said, i don’t want to. i have things to do.”

kirishima backs off, facing his palms forward in surrender, “alright, alright, i’m sorry man.”

test one, complete. bakugou usually is up to training with kirishima but nowadays he has been putting them off or not even mentioning training with him. kirishima never thought much of it until now. it would make sense if bakugou has been spending his time after school with his girl. then again, he could just be doing something else important after school..

hero basic training class comes around and everyone has to change in the locker room.

“do you guys smell that?” mineta looks around, sniffing the air.

“smell what? sweat?” sero continues to change into his uniform, paying the short boy little attention.

“no, no. it..smells like perfume, girl perfume.” he wanders around the locker room and starts to sniff things like a bloodhound. the others besides bakugou look on with judgement.

mineta walks up to bakugou and sniffs his uniform he’s still wearing without thinking, rubbing his nose on it once he takes a good whiff.

“what the fuck are you doing?? get the hell off of me, midget!” bakugou pushes the short boy away from him, seething with rage.

“that perfume..it’s, ‘midnight love’ miss midnight’s own perfume! you use it too bakugou?” mineta doesn’t bother trying to sit up, too dazed by the smell of his favorite perfume.

“i don’t wear that crap. some shitty girl sprayed it everywhere in the halls and it got on me, okay??” bakugou carries on with changing into his costume more aggressively, avoiding everyone.

this wasn’t one of the tests but it still works. the perfume on bakugou could be his girlfriend’s. he does seem more aggressive and defensive than usual too.

“you aren’t eating school lunch? that’s new,” kirishima comments, eyeing the black bento in front of bakugou.

bakugou ignores him and opens his bento, disregarding the lid next to him. just as he’s about to dig into his food, kaminari speaks.

“hey, what’s this?” the sparky blonde picks the lid up and turns it around so the inside faces him. there was a note taped on it and written in pink marker.

‘i hope you enjoy it ~╰(*´︶`*)╯♡’

“your mother is caring, making you delicious looking food for lunch.” kirishima observes bakugou’s reaction to his words closely.

the short tempered blonde takes the lid back and turns it so the note isn’t visible anymore. “don’t touch my stuff and can you guys let me eat for a fucking second??”

test number..two? three? successful. bakugou’s mom doesn’t seem like the type to make bakugou food, otherwise she would have done that at the beginning of the school year. this must be bakugou’s girl’s doing.

after spending some time with you, bakugou returns to the dorm. in his head he prays that he can hide in his room without anyone stopping him but luck is not on his side.

“hey, bakugou! you are finally- wait, is that a flower in your hair?” kaminari points at the flower with a slight smirk on his face.

“oohhh, does bakugou have a girlfriend or something?” mina gushes, smiling brightly.

“bakugou having a girlfriend? that doesn’t sound realistic.” tsuyu bluntly states.

“if bakugou does have a..girlfriend then she must be just as short tempered as him.” todoroki (surprisingly) adds.

bakugou pulls the flower from his hair and crushes it in his clenched fist. “can you guys shut the fuck up? what’s with you all? why are you guys fucking ganging up on me? you’ve all been acting so damn weird since the beginning of the day.” bakugou snaps, done with everyone’s relentless teasing.

everyone shuts up and flinches at bakugou’s scalding temper. kirishima slowly raises his hand, stopping himself from shrinking back when bakugou’s vermillion eyes focus on him.

“uh..explain. ‘ganging up’ ?”

bakugou lets out an animalistic snarl, ready to pounce on the red head.

“ah- okay..w-we, kaminari, sero, and i may have been at the amusement park yesterday and spotted you with a..girl.” kirishima quickly explains, holding his hands up in front of him to block any potential attacks his way.

“a-and you can’t deny it because we have pictures for proof..” kaminari pulls out his phone and clumsily shows bakugou the photos he took without consent.

“you guys took fucking pictures?? delete them, now.” the fuming blonde takes a step closer to kaminari, swiping his hand up to try and snatch the phone away.

kaminari lets out a girly shriek, squirming away from him and using sero’s lanky form as a shield.

“k-kacchan, please calm down, we are v-very sorry for-“

“shut your damn mouth, deku. don’t tell me to calm down. you guys were fucking nosy and took pictures of us. whether i have a girlfriend or not is none of your business.” bakugou yells, storming out of the living room afterwards.

as soon as bakugou enters his room he slams the door shut roughly and falls onto his bed face first.

“stupid fucking, extras..” the angered boy breathes out, still all riled up. he takes one of his pillows and presses it up to his face to stifle the screams he let out.

how dare they? taking fucking pictures of us..(y/n) isn’t going to be happy about this. fuck.

sitting up, he throws the pillow to the side and takes his phone out, scrolling through his contacts until he gets to yours. his thumb lingers above your name briefly before pressing it.

bakugou shifts on his bed so he can sit with his legs crossed, waiting anxiously as his phone rings. his face looks so red and his hair looks unkempt in the camera. he really does look like a mess.

the ringing stops, somehow making bakugou’s heart speed up faster.

“suki? are you okay? what’s wrong?”

hearing that familiar nickname you gave him soothes him significantly. just hearing your voice and seeing you again calms him. of course you’d know something is up just by a first glance.

“no..”

“come on, you look like you just fought with a bear. i know that face too, you can’t lie to me.”

“i don’t look that bad.” bakugou pushes his hair back from his eyes with one hand and huffs.

“sure, sweetie.” you give him a mock smile, soaking in his disheveled look. he still looks attractive even if his skin matches a tomato right now.

the corner of bakugou’s lips quirk but he quickly drops it at remembering the reason to why he even called you in the first place.

“i need to tell you something..”

“hm? what is it?”

“i..they know. i’m sorry.” bakugou murmurs.

“what do you mean?” you look at bakugou with concern. it’s rare for bakugou to ever apologize so this must be serious.

“my dumbass classmates saw us during our date yesterday and took pictures. now they all know and will probably bug me to meet you..” bakugou’s chest constricts with guilt when he can practically feel your growing anxiety through the screen.

you mull over his words before speaking, “..it’s okay, maybe i should meet them. we’ve been together for a few months now. it’s better if we just get this over with than wait for who knows how long until i think i’m ready.”

“are you sure? you don’t need to do shit if you still aren’t ready to meet them.” bakugou didn’t expect this. during your relationship bakugou learned that you have an aversion to socializing with big groups of people. so you two settled with an agreement that you don’t have to meet any of his friends until you were ready.

“i..think i’ll be okay. i’m sure.”

bakugou and you made up a plan on when you should meet them and the place. the both of you settled with meeting them tomorrow after school at a big mall.

“i’ll see you then, goodnight, suki, love you.” you pucker you’re lips at him, bakugou’s face flares up at your gesture and words.

“night, love you too, brat.”

bakugou stays in his room for a little while, his anger finally leaving his body. he sort of regrets organizing a meet up because he’s afraid that his classmates will scare you away. (how ironic..).

he leaves his room to walk towards the living area. he could hear the others arguing in not so hushed voices just behind the corner.

“this is all your fault kami, i told you it was a bad idea!”

“shut it! you still went along with poking him during the day!”

“i feel like bakugou wouldn’t have snapped if todoroki hadn’t said anything..”

“i didn’t say anything wrong though?”

“you guys are shitty at whispering.”

everyone stops talking at the sound of bakugou’s voice. it took only a second for them to unfreeze and apologize profusely to him. (besides some..).

“ahh, bakugou, we’re really sorry for invading your privacy! we won’t do it again, we promise!” kirishima kneels on the floor in front of bakugou, his hands forming a prayer.

“i deleted the photos, please don’t kill me in my sleep!” kaminari joins kirishima, crying comically large tears.

“please forgive us, i told kaminari it wasn’t a good idea but-“

“can you guys quit being fucking wimps??” bakugou hits kirishima and kaminari on the top of their heads, causing the two to groan in pain. “she would like to meet you all tomorrow after school. i’ll send the location on where we all are meeting up. you guys better not be fucking late.”

there is a variety of reactions. some are ecstatic, others are neutral, and a few are indifferent.

“wait, really?? i can’t wait to meet her!” mina cheers with toru, uraraka, and the other girls.

“this is surprising..but i’ll take it! i bet she’ll look even cuter up close!” kaminari exclaims, smiling nervously when bakugou glowers at him. “o-of course i won’t do anything! she’s all yours.”

“is she really a babe? now i really gotta see her in person!” mineta drools at the scenarios in his head, swooning.

“don’t even think about pulling anything you damn dwarf. before you guys meet her you all need to follow this one rule. don’t act like shit heads. i don’t want you all scaring her away with your stupidity.” bakugou warns them.

“we promise to not scare her away!”

“how do you feel?”

“i’m a little nervous..” you admit, fiddling with your poofy sleeves.

“i can tell, your aura is grey.” bakugou rubs your forearm and pulls you closer to him by the arm he has slung around your shoulders.

you look down at your hands and notice that he’s right. sometimes when you feel a strong emotion you can’t stop yourself from activating your quirk.

“we can ditch them if you still aren’t ready.” bakugou suggests, a despicable smile grows on his face.

you shake your head, denying the idea. “no, i still want to go through with this.”

the others arrive and act pretty rowdy. they seem intimidating..

“wow! so you’re bakugou’s girlfriend? you’re too pretty for him!” mina gushes over you, eyeing you up and down with bright eyes.

“i hope we can be friends, my name is uraraka ochako! what’s your name?”

“you have awesome style!”

“it’s so nice to meet you officially!”

“can you guys back off? do you all not remember the fucking rule i mentioned yesterday?” bakugou intercepts all the greetings when he notices your aura turning a dark black. he pulls you closer to him protectively and rubs your back lightly to hopefully calm you down.

“w-we’re so sorry! we didn’t mean to upset you!” uraraka apologizes, the others follow.

you eventually relax at their presence and gradually grew comfortable with them as you all decide to shop together. bakugou won’t admit it but he does feel satisfied knowing that the others know you are his now.

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

OMG sorry to request again seconds later, but I just saw the Sheikah slate ask. Could we see Kohga just... continously sending Sooga dirty texts and pictures during a dinner with the gang or something? Until Sooga's all "we gotta go NOW" and drags Kohga off to make good on those texts??

Canon use of the slate;*tracking towers, mapping areas, stopping time*

MY use of the slate;*sending nudes*

"Dorephan, really good to meet you, big guy!"

Kohga waved up at Dorephan. Him and Sooga were invited to dinner, not by Mipha, but by the king himself apparently. Dorephan nodded from his spot on the throne.

"Kohga, was it? Lovely to meet you. My children talk about you so often, I had to get to know you a bit more! You and...Dooga?"

"Sooga, your highness."

"Right right. Sidon, do tell the chefs that company is here."

"Yes father. I call dibs sitting next to Sooga by the way!"

Sidon dashed off into the kitchen, and Mipha chuckled, clinging to Kohga's side.

"It's wonderful that you've accepted Father's invitation, Kohga. He has been dying to meet you. Please, sit here with me. If you don't mind Sooga being away from you."

"Oh hows he gonna survive, the poor guy?"

Kohga chuckled. He sat next to Mipha, Sooga sat at the far end (with Sidon quickly joining him), and king Dorephan in the middle of them. A Zora soldier (handsome devil, if you ask Kohga. Real nice looking teeth), served everyone a nice healthy cup of wine, with Dorephan raising his own glass a bit.

"An honor to have you both join the family. I was looking forward to having my future son in law here, but-"

"Father!"

She hid her blushing face in her face, making everyone chuckle. While every man at the table was different, they had one thing in common; love for Mipha. Dorephan gave a good, hearty laugh.

"I tease, my daughter! Once Sidon finds someone to wed, I'll be the same!"

Sidon, practically giddy, grinned over at his sister.

"Has he seen the armor you made for him?"

"Not...quite. Still adding finishing touches. I'm...a little worried about it, honestly."

Kohga found the whole conversation cute, but unless he heard a 'he said yes', he found himself not very interested in the conversation. He was WAY more interested in Sooga and Sidon. Those two were chatting it up in between Dorephan and Mipha's speaking, and it reminded Kohga of the time Sidon let out all of his horny frustration on him. Ugh. Now he was DAMN horny just thinking about it.

Bored at this point, Kohga pulled out his sheikah slate, starting to mess with it. It was considered the same as pulling out a book at the table, so many didn’t seem to mind when he used it when he was bored. He scrolled through his pictures, and found one of himself. He did like to take a good selfie here and there. Looking at Sooga across the table, he grinned, and sent it to Sooga. It lit up at his waist immediately, and Sooga held the conversation while pulling it up. Look at this sap, smiling so giddily at a selfie of him. Even if it was a DAMN good selfie. He even managed to respond with a ‘<3’, which was even cuter.

“What else what else…”

Kohga mumbled to himself. He gave the occasional nodding towards Mipha (he listened to her for the most part, but this seemed much more important), before he found another picture. Another selfie, this time with his mask slightly askew, and his tongue sticking out between two of his fingers. THAT one made poor little Sooga’s wine get stuck in his throat, and he coughed a bit, but otherwise kept his composure. He always did like his mouth. He clearly didn’t know how to respond, choosing to continue his chat with Sidon. Kohga didn’t like being ignored, so he shot him a message.

‘If I send you something, respond, Sooga. You know I don’t like being ignored.’

Sooga read over the message for a moment, before forcing himself to respond.

‘I apologize, I just wasn’t expecting a suggestive picture. I will respond from now on.’

‘Good. Shark boy is cute, but last I checked, you were bananas about ME’

‘I am, I swear. He just keeps trying to look’

‘So? Let him look. You guys ARE super cute together. Here, let me give you something to show him’

Kohga pulled up a picture of him eating a banana in a...not appropriate way, if you wanna put it how Sooga would. You wanna put it how Kohga would, it was a picture of him stuffing his mouth full of banana, having the end pressed against his cheek. It was a picture that EASILY said he was asking for it. Sooga was hiding his mouth over his hand, melting in his seat. Kohga tried not to laugh. He knew no one could suck dick better than him, and BOTH knew that Sooga knew this.

‘You want that when we get home? Wanna just sit back in our cozy bed and let me suck that pretty cock of yours?’

“Well, Kohga?”

Kohga lifted his head up to Mipha, who was clearly saying something to him. He put the slate down for a second, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I was talking about something super important, what was it?”

“Oh, we were wondering if blue was the right color for Link’s armor.”

“Oh definitely, great contrast to your own colors. I say keep it.”

That seemed to please Mipha enough, as she clapped her hands a bit, and continued to talk to her father. Kohga went back to his slate, just in time to see Sooga’s message.

‘Master Kohga, please, we’re in public’

Ugh. Such a buzzkill. Always with the manners and being a good guest. It was sweet, but Kohga REALLY wanted to poke at Sooga. He was trying SO hard to just sip wine and eat his bread, trying to look good for Kohga.

‘You’re trying to tell ME what to do, Sooga?’

‘No! No! Never!’

‘You know I hate that. So, you’re gonna get a lesson. I want you to put your hand on fish stick’s thigh. Under the table. That is a command’

Sooga was just DYING. Kohga was chatting him up, and without using his voice, he was seducing poor little Sooga. He hesitated, but as per usual, a command was a command. So, he slid his hand up Sooga’s thigh, lightly clenching his leg. Sidon seemed confused for a minute, before laughing.

“Sooga! I had no idea you missed me and the domain so much!”

Sidon’s bubbly personality made the whole thing seem inconspicuous, and it was hilarious to the ever blushing Sooga. Such casual flirting between them, all while Kohga was saying he’d suck him off right fucking now.

‘Good boy, Sooga. You know, I could take a video of it. Of me sucking your cock, of me drooling all over your nuts-right till you cum in my mouth. And we can send it over to Sidon, see what he thinks about it. How does that sound? How badly do you want my lips on your cock?’

Suddenly Sooga put the slate away, and stood up. Kohga thought he somehow offended him, when Sooga walked up to him, and hoisted him over his shoulder. All three of the zora looked at Sooga curiously, and Kohga tried not to laugh at Sooga’s attempt to lie on the fly.

“I apologize. We uh, just recalled we had an important meeting to attend to. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

He was about to turn, when Sidon’s interest made him jump up a bit.

“Oh what was it?! Care to tell us?”

“Yeah Sooga, just WHAT was that meeting we forgot?”

Poor little Sooga. He floundered for a moment, before pulling something RIGHT out of his ass.

“Banana problems.”

Mipha cocked her head to the side.

“Banana..problems?”

“Yes. Yiga things, as I’m sure you’ll understand. King Dorephan, excuse my rudeness, we simply must do this another time.”

Sooga didn’t let anyone else speak before he turned the corner, and poofed. They were back in the clan, and right when Kohga realized that, he just could NOT stop laughing.

"BANANA PROBLEMS, SOOGA."

"I am good at MANY things. Lying is not one of them, especially under pressure."

Sooga opened the door to their room, locking the door behind them, before finally setting Kohga down. Kohga chuckled, hand roaming till he cupped the slight bulge between his legs. Excited boy.

"You've got LOTS of pressure, poor boy. Lay down, let's take care of you~"

Kohga didn't wait, practically throwing Sooga onto the bed. He looked up at Kohga as he crawled onto him, being firm as he parted those big, pretty legs of his. Sooga's grip on the sheets was so desperate and needy, it was cute.

"W-wait, don't you want to record-"

"Not yet. First one is for me, and me alone. He gets to see you all nice and loose~"

He loved this big, stupid man, and his big, stupid body

#asks #kohga #sooga #mipha #dorephan #sidon #lemon #key points here; kohga is a hoe #sooga sucks at lying #sidon kinda has a crush on sooga #and dorephan cannot and will not get Sooga's name right

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happikattwuzheere · 4 years

Photo

was gonna try and do multiple characters in one post but nope! i have too much to say. also the pictures are all different sizes so its rly hard to get the photoset to look appealing, so we’re starting w/ blue. and also a colored pic of what adam looks like when he’s not a deer. boy’s tryin not to stand out. which goes great up for him right up until it doesn’t. lmao. i’ll talk a bit about him too w/ stuff that didnt get mentioned in the starter post about him and gansey, but this is mostly gonna be about blue.

SO.

there’s this fey entity, right? i don’t have a name for them, but they’re not...they didnt START the fey/human conflict, but they are benefiting from it, politically speaking? and when maura was younger, despite other witches being like “girl dont choose sides, we’re witches, we guard boundaries but we don’t choose sides,” was hotheaded and brash and went “ok but fuck that though” and one thing led to another and she ended up getting a curse on her firstborn. Oops. that’s where the kissing curse comes from, here; i’ll get into that much later in a text post probably but gansey’s survivor’s guilt thing doesnt come from him actually dying in this au it’s from something Else, but blue will still kill him if she kisses him, just, for different reasons, it’s an actual curse this time and not something to do with the nature of who they both are.

her father’s still a tree light, but like, she actually knows that from the outset? because. they live in cabeswater. the tree lights are all around and accept her as one of their own even if she can’t turn into a tree, and as a result of that, she’s got some cool perks.

a) extremely resistant and/or outright immune to a Lot of fey bullshit

b) still boosts psychic energies and magical powers like in canon

c) the absolute safest person to be traveling in cabeswater ever, because the forest itself loves her, and also if you mess with her within the borders of cabeswater a bunch of tree lights will physically manifest and be like “hey buddy wanna think twice about that”

but she can’t use magic herself, still, which actually works in the favor of herself and the coven--witchcraft is in a sort of weird spot, culturally, where it’s both feared and often hated, but also understood to at times be necessary, especially by rural peoples like those of the village. im taking a very discworld spin on the witchcraft, because i love discworld and you can’t stop me, and so the attitude is, like. its frightening ancient magic and the church hates it but when there’s an emergency and someone’s on the border between life and death, or something is trying to pass into this world from another, etc etc etc, then you gotta suck it up and call on a witch because they’re the only ones who can deal with those things. so. the coven is tolerated, both because it’s too big and powerful to actually fight but also because it’s extremely needed when you live in a village right next door to fey lands. you NEED someone watching the border. however that doesn’t mean anyone wants to be seen publicly talking to a witch--but blue’s not a witch. she’s a witch’s daughter, but she’s not a witch herself, which is a step removed enough that she can go into town and run errands and also people will maybe pull her discretely aside and tell her if something’s coming up that the coven should know about, and it all works very neatly with her acting as a sort of liaison. very important role she plays, which is why gansey tries talking to her after his initial attempt to speak with the coven directly fails.

speaking of the coven itself: i’ve been calling it the fox way coven, even tho it probably wouldn’t be called that because there’s no road called fox way that the coven is built on, it’s a big magic house out in the fairy forest, BUT they do have a fox theme because i love foxes and this is a gift i have been given. if people have familiars in this coven, they’re foxes rather than cats, because as wonderful as cats are u cant have them and foxes in the same house that will go bad. but also there’s a v small number of them, like maybe three or four total out of the much higher number of women living there, who are fey blooded like adam, but who become foxes rather than adam’s deer. persephone is one of these! (it’s worth noting the reason why they become the same animal is because of a combination of coincidence, intentional theming, and mostly just because like, virtually all of the residents there aside from persephone are related to either maura or calla)

anyway the point is, because of this, blue’d seen enough feyblood transformations that when, one day when she was 9 or 10, on a visit to town, she saw the most distressed, disoriented fawn wobbling around frantically and was able to very quickly recognize that that was, in fact, a person who had probably turned into a deer for the first time, and responded by very calmly informing him that she knew who could help and leading him home. this is where those last two pictures come from, and how adam’s apprenticeship started.

like, there was a lot of arguing from the witches immediately--of course we’re going to teach him how to become human again but we aren’t really going to take him on in the coven are we? he’s a boy, he’s some local kid we know nothing about, what happened to keeping it in the family, he’s the wrong animal and we’ve got a whole thing going on--at which point persephone parted everyone like the red sea, took one look at adam, went “mine now” and despite a lot of grumbling that was the end of it. she took him on a bit of a tour of cabeswater a few days later, after he’d had time to think it over, and he felt so drawn to the forest that he agreed to the apprenticeship.

so he’s technically persephone’s apprentice but like in actual practice he’s being taught by the entire coven lmao, ANYWAY

adam being adam also had a backup plan for trying to get out of the village--even at ten he figured witchcraft might be a first way out of there, he was already thinking about it, but by thirteen when the good ole abuse started (and at which point the last whispers of dissent died out very quickly amongst the coven, nope, adam is one of us now, do you want us to very threateningly hang out in your front yard sometime because we can do that--what do you mean no, let us do this,) he was also like. i dont think this is a guarantee of getting out of here i need a second job. and the thing is, as was mentioned in the original post, the fey blood also means adam’s got issues with iron; it’ll poison him if he’s stabbed with it but it also reacts to his skin touching it like a hot stove. he’s fine if there’s a layer between his skin and the iron, but if he touches it directly, it’s Bad. so ofc this headstrong idiot takes an open spot a t a metalworker’s in the village because adam is the king of making bad decisions. the witches have a betting pool on how long it’ll take him to out himself. “its fine i’ll wear gloves,” he says. “it’s the perfect disguise no one will expect someone with fey connections to work near so much iron,” he says. “i have everything perfectly under control,” he says.

anyway he totally forgets to wear gloves before grabbing an iron tool while his dad and his boss are both in the store and in clear view of him and that’s why he was getting chased by hunters when gansey rescued him

also he and blue tried dating when they were like 13-14 and it ended about as badly as in canon and they made up later and by the time the story starts they’ve settled into very much being weird siblings. adam starts hanging out with gansey initially to try and basically spy on him, figure out why he’s here, but ends up rly liking the guy and deciding his reasons are sincerely to try and help people, and he tells this to blue who starts immediately accusing him of having a crush on the lordling and being a class traitor, because she does NOT like gansey at this point and really the nobility all prefer wizards to witches which is a stupid idiot decision and frankly the fact that this lordling is apparently enamored by some random deer is hilarious to her, but even moreso is the fact that adam actually defends the lordling to her, like, “wow adam its hilarious that the lordling’s friend thinks that you have charmed the lordling because from my perspective it looks the other way around” “shut uuuup you’re not listening im serious, like, yeah ok he put his foot in his mouth really hard when he talked to you but im telling you i dont think the whole i-wanna-understand thing is an act” “idk if i can trust you through those rose tinted glasses buddy. tell me again about that time he called you princely?” “oh my god”

this is turning into rambling but. thats the gist of the witches and blue esp thank u for coming if u made it this far here’s a bonus persephone fox

#trc #the raven cycle #blue sargent #deer boy au #longpost #VERY long im so sorry.

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