#theres more of them out there i wanna get and scan some day <- has access to my dad's big music scanner and im making it everyone's problem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Note

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them.

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE.

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at.

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes. Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town.

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed.

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.”

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off.

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar.

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while.

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you.

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch?

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor.

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth.

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction.

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle.

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands.

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor.

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.”

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind.

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves.

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious.

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his.

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer.

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off.

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move.

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly.

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take.

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along.

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it.

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness. It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins.

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar.

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer.

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well.

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter.

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers.

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law.

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him.

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered.

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too.

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight.

The white shine of his hair always gives him away.

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?”

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against.

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke.

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you.

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.”

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger.

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?”

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it.

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark.

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze.

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his.

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now.

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness.

******

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him.

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension.

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions.

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine.

******

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened.

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation.

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features.

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness.

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly.

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion.

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists.

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens.

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might.

Late one evening, your phone rings.

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive.

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly.

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor.

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so...

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you.

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you.

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.”

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this.

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want.

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting.

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him.

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him.

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you.

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you.

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips.

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks.

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on.

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult.

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth.

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you.

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips.

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh.

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes.

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth.

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front.

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good.

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands.

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes.

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking.

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips.

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him.

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking.

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration.

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him.

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his.

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you.

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him.

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue.

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you.

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience.

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?”

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection.

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor.

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you.

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head.

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different.

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed.

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher.

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.”

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes.

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished.

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous.

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs.

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent.

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind.

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have.

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality.

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going.

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin.

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall.

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub.

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it.

He’s never been alone, not like this.

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same.

He needs to see this through.

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away.

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple.

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go.

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin.

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme.

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on Tomura’s dick #and his trauma #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tenko shimura #shimura tenko #reader insert

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

there have been lawyer and CEO levi headcanons, but what are your or your anons’ *ahem* medical doctor levi headcanons 👀

Oh, anon, you don't know what you've done [rolls up sleeves] I'm glad you asked because I've been dying to talk about it for a hot minute!! I think this could go down two ways

Doctor Levi!! Doctor Levi!! Doctor Levi!!

Number one: neurosurgeon Levi and his friends who consist of emergency medicine expert/gen surgeon Hange, and Erwin down in radiology.

His job lets him put his analytical skills to good use, plus that irregular sleep schedule of his is finally coming in handy.

I can see him in a hospital, but also at a smaller or more private practice, in which the majority of his patients would be after consultations, and mostly regularly scheduled.

I can see him in the ER too, and he probably spent the first chunk of his career there regardless; and it makes sense, because he's cut out for that kind of stuff. He doesn't hesitate to start treatment or yell out orders; he doesn't panic even when the odds look grim, he's almost insanely collected.

He's... kind of a genius on the low, but you'd have to really stick around to see him at his full potential. That's not to say he's not giving it his all daily, but he's not boasting about it either. He's pretty quiet and keeps to himself, but when the times calls to make a tough or risky call, then all of his genius really comes into play.

One of my other alternate versions of this is him working in pediatrics, or still doing neuro but with a focus on pediatrics, and either way, I think he'd be damn good at it. Kids would love him, and he would have a way of calming them down and explaining to them what's going on without sounding scary or patronizing. They might have to undergo some major brain surgery, but Levi still has a way of making them feel safe and optimistic.

And the fact of the matter is, they are safe in his hands; Levi knows not to get too attached to his patients, and he would never admit it out loud, but when its a kid on the operating table, he feels that much more compelled to do his very best and nothing less.

Calls Hange smooth brained when they're being too loud or annoying him. He made the joke, but he also thinks it's pretty funny.

Mikasa as his resident, who he never really wanted to take on, but the hospital heads were practically begging him to mentor at least one person because whether Levi wants to admit it or not, he's a damn good doctor, and his name is pretty out there.

He's glad he got Mikasa tho, because not only is she clearly competent, but she's not some toxic, over-anxious, know it all med student either. Levi would have concussed his own resident if he ended up with one like that.

(I can actually argue for Armin, Connie, and/or Jean as his residents too, but that's a different ask. Just know that I think Hange would take on Eren and lets just say theres not a dull day in the ER with them teamed up).

Hange and Erwin and all the other doctors joke that Levi is raising Mikasa to be another version of him, and soon there will be two gloomy genius neurosurgeons in the hospital. (They're not wrong).

He always tells you you must be extra thick-headed to stick around and be with him, or whenever you do something a little dumb, but he means it affectionately. He likes that you are, too.

Sometimes you worry him and genuinely thinks to himself that he should do a PET scan on you to make sure everything is working alright in that noggin of yours.

Yes, it is extra sweet for a plethora of reasons when he kisses your forehead or the top of your head. It means that much more to him.

Dentist Levi!! Dentist Levi!! Dentist Levi!!

Now the other option is Levi as a dentist! I guess, practically, this one makes a little less sense for him since it's "messier," but it also requires a similar level of attention and detail that I think Levi would be good for. You only get one brain and one set of teeth; I would trust Levi to take care of those things for me.

He's the super hot dentist that doesn't mean to say charming things, but happens to anyways and makes you wanna melt into the dental chair while he's looking at you. Like sir, please do not put your fingers in my mouth and tell me to open wide. Please, I can't do this today.

Yes, all doctor's offices and spaces are clean, but Levi's is somehow extra sterile. I don't know how he does it, but he does.

Doesn't give out stickers LMFAO, but you can get a mini floss container that's been hand bedazzled by his dental assistant, Hange, if you really want a prize.

Kisses his own teeth when he sees an x-ray of a very preventable cavity from up from a patient he specifically told to eat less sweets. It's Hange. Hange is the patient, and Levi is gonna fucking start charging them for this shit he swears.

Levi's a good dentist, but he knows there's a bunch of lousy, bare minimum dentists out there too, so he's pretty protective of his own teeth.

He's protective of yours, too. He's not gonna do a full examination on your for eating one piece of chocolate, but he will encourage you to floss and all that good stuff.

(He might toss out some sweets if he catches you with too many, though, and he won't apologize for it, either).

#anonymous #do i think about this at least 15 times a day? absolutely #is there a very complex hospital au brewing in my head? you already know it #aot headcanons #levi.ask

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kasey-writes-stuff · 3 years

Note

Can we get tubbo and ranboo x reader where one (or both) of them get into a random ler mood and readers just sitting there like 👀 ✨it’s time to shine✨(/ref)

This is all completely platonic of course but I just wanna be sure and clarify it since there is some compliments and cuddling! I hope you enjoy it!

You were Tubbos for a few weeks visiting him and ranboo, today you guys had took a day off from streaming and most socials just to hang out and chill but suddenly mid hang out sesh you felt a poke to your side and you looked over to be met with a devious smile….

“T-tubbo no no! No no no! I know what you’re planning” he snickered softly as he tried to act over dramatically innocent “what? Me?! How dare you accuse me of planning anything! I am planning nothing”You looked over at ranboo with a face that says does he really think he’s fooling me ? Ranboo smiles softly at you as he shrugs softly, you roll your eyes softly a slight smile on your face as you turn back to the tv but it’s not long and you feel another poke making you jump and turn to tubbo again who’s giggling and trying to hide behind his hand to cover his smile and muffle his giggles “tubbo! I know you’re planning something so just get it over with” you smiled to show you weren’t annoyed and that you were okay with this

He smiles happily as he shrugs “okay then!” He quickly tackles you and then looks to ranboo “hey boo wanna help? I’ve heard from wil that they’re hard to tickle unless their arms are pinned to keep them from blocking everything” You blush a light pink due to flusteredness, ranboo smiles slightly excitedly as he says “sure I don’t mind!” He comes over and grabs your hands holding them tight enough so that you can’t pull them down but loose enough that it doesn’t hurt, tubbo quickly takes place on your waist smiling excitedly “where to start where to start?” He playfully wiggles his fingers inches away from your torso as he thinks of where to go

You hold back a squeak just seeing his wiggling fingers “no where! Start no where!” Ranboo laughs softly as he says “ Well he has to start somewhere and it’s obvious of you don’t choose he will” he pauses slightly his ler side kicking in “or we can call Wilbur and have him choose” your eyes widened as you shook your head “no no no! No wil! Please no! Um um Um my uh my hands…” you hastily said your hands seeing as ranboo was holding your wrists your brain suddenly made you think of your hands, tubbos eyebrow raised “what theres no way! People can’t have ticklish hands can they?” Ranboo shrugs smirking softly “only one way to find out”

He begins gently gliding his fingers over one of your palms making you squeak softly as your hand gently wiggles and you fall into soft giggles “eek! Nahaha rhahannbohoho!” Tubbo blinks his eyes in surprise “wow hands really can be ticklish! Wait wait wait what about arms? Can they be ticklish?!” Your face is bright red as through your giggles you say “stohohopp sahahayyihhinngg thahatt wohohorrddd!” Tubbo tilts his head curiously at you “what word?” Ranboo smiles a very small devious smile “I think I know what word” Tubbo looks at him excitedly “really?! What’s the word what’s the word boss man!?” Ranboo laughs softly as he says “I believe the word is tickle” you say nothing simply continuing to giggle, tubbo looks to you “is he right y/n is that the word? And if it is why do you not want me to say it?” Your blush increases more and more as you say “uhuhumm hehess rihihighhtt ahahnnddd nohoho rehehahhassohohnn!”

Ranboo raises an eyebrow “no no I don’t believe that there has to be a reason so I guess we’ll just tickle it out of you” he smirks softly as he stops the hand tickles and nods to tubbo who excitedly begins poking at your sides making you jump and squeak before falling into giggles “eek! Nhahahhahah frihihickk!” Tubbo giggles softly “I’m barely doing anything and you’re already giggling!” You would’ve light heartedly glared at him if you could “shuhuttt uhuhupp!” He scoffs mock offended “hey! That wasn’t very nice you should apologize!” You shake your head “ihihimm nahahatt ahahpohohollgihihzihihinng!” He shakes his head as he curiously scans your body looking for a new point of attack… suddenly his hands squeeze your hips making you buck upwards as a squeal passes your lips

“EEEP TUBBO NOT THERE!” Ranboo who’s seated above you still holding your wrists says “not there? Why not y/n is it really ticklish?” Curse his teasingness already cracking your resolve, you can’t help but shyly nod as you say “yehehha ihihittt ihihisss” Ranboo smiles softly “awe how cute, thanks for telling us one of your death spots! Tubbo go now!” Tubbo quickly got to work kneading and squeezing at your hip bones and occasionally circling his thumbs into the dips! You lost it squealing again before breaking into loud laughter “EEP NAHAHHAAHHAHAHHAHA HEHEHAHAHAHHAHA FFRIHIHICCKK AHAHAHHAHAHA!” Tubbos eyes shine with excitement as he says “wow you really are ticklish here! So are you ready to apologize or am I going to have to find another death spot?” You shake your head through your laughter “IHIHIMM NAHHATT GOHONNHAHA AHAHPOHOHOLLLOHOGIHIHZZEHEHE!” Ranboo shrugs “well suit yourself then because we both known how determined tubbo can get when he wants something” After another moment or two tubbo decides to pull out the big guns… said big guns being his phone and being him face timing wilbur

The phone rings only a few times before you hear Wilbur’s cheery but supposed voice “hi tubbo! What’s up?” He waved excitedly “hi Wilbur! Nothing much just trying to get y/n here to apologize and I figured maybe you could help give tips on how to make them apologize!” As tubbo turns the camera to you Wilbur’s smile turns slightly devious as he waves at you “hi y/n! Being stubborn again hmm?” You grumble softly “hi Wilby and would you really expect anything else?” You snicker softly at the end of your sentence and Wilbur chuckles “oh you say that with confidence as if I don’t know how to break you from that stubbornness my dear” you gulp slightly not saying anything and simply turning your head away from him “oh going for the silent treatment now are you dear? Guess we’ll just go ahead and get started right away then!”

Tubbo turned the phone back to him egerly smiling as he waited for Wilbur’s tips and instructions.. Wilbur smiled as he says “right then tubbo what have you guys done so far?” Tubbo says “well we’ve poked at their sides a bit and tickled their hands and then we also got their hips but that’s all so far!” Wilbur nodded as tubbo spoke “alright alright good good their hands are good for making them soft, their sides are a good middle ground leaning death spot, and their hips are definitely one of their biggest death spots, so my next move would depend on how quick you want this whole thing to end or if you want them to apologize but then things continue on a bit longer” tubbo shrugs softly and looks to you, ranboo looks to you as well and you shrug softly “I’m uh I’m good with things going on a bit longer…”

Wilbur nods to tubbo “Right then since they want things to go on longer go for their thighs, they’re a death spot but the last things I have in mind are for a grand finale!” Tubbo nods excitedly “Alright then!” He begins squeezing up and down your sides making you squeal as you fall into cackles “EEP TUBBO NAHAHHAHAHAHA HEHAHHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAAHAH!” Ranboo smiles softly at your laughter “your laughter is really nice y/n” his compliment was very genuine no teasing nature to it but you were never good with compliments so your ears turned red in response something quickly noticed by tubbo “Awe look boo you’ve made their ears all red!” Wilbur laughs softly “oh that’s right they can’t take compliments well! Also their ears are a melt spot as well! Usually after the grand finale I cuddle with them and gently tickle their palms or ears” tubbo and ranboo both audibly awe although it’s barely heard over your cackles as tubbo switches to more vibrating type motions “AHHAHAHA TUHUBUBOHOHO IHIHIMM SOHOHORRRYY!”

He smiles softly and after a few more moments he stops “Apology accepted! So now Wilbur what’s next?” Wilbur smiles as he says “now we prepare for the finale! We take steps before we get to it though to make it all the more fun! First you lift their shirt so it rests just above their belly button, then you scribble gently and slowly on their tummy and slowly increase the speed, next you wiggle a finger in their belly button, then you stop the wiggles and scribbles and switch to raspberries and the absolute grand finale is you blow raspberries while squeezing and kneading their hips!” Tubbo nods trying to take all of it in but ranboo could see he was struggling and says “don’t worry tubbo I got it”

Tubbo smiles and cheees excitedly “let’s go! Okay so first we scribble slowly and gently” he does as he says and you squeak falling into soft giggles “eek! Nahahha tuhhuhubbsss ahhahahahhaa!” Wilbur’s eyes light up as he says “oh yea gentle slow scribbles also make them soft!” Ranboo awes “They really just get cuter and cuter don’t they?” Tubbo nods as he picks up the pace going about medium speed making your giggles turn to soft laughter “aahahaHAHAHHA nhahahahHAHHAA shuhuHUHUsshh!” Ranboo scoffs “hey that’s not very nice! Don’t make me have to have tubbo speed up already!” Your eyes widen a bit and you say “sohohorryyy” he nods softly smiling not truly upset at all “apology accepted!”

Tubbos smile of excitement widens as after a few minutes pass he picks up to full speed making you fall into loud laughter “EE TUHUHUBBSS NHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHA HEHEHEHHEHAHAHHA!” The three of them smile even wider Ranboo is the one holding the phone now allowing Wilbur to see right up close just how blushy you were but also to see you were nearing your limit so after a few moments he says “I think it’s about time to wrap it up tubbo so I’d go ahead and do a few raspberries and then go for the finale” tubbo nods in understanding “alright fine by me!” He quickly leans down and blows the biggest raspberry he can right on the side of your stomach and then he blows another right over your belly button and one more on the other side! You shriek laughing the loudest you have yet “AhAH AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA NNHAHAHHAHA IHIHI AHAHHAHAHA FFRIHIHICXKK AHHAHHAHA!” They all sigh softly in adoration and after a very brief break tubbo leans back down and his hands rest on your hips! He takes a small breathe and begins to blow small raspberries all around while his hands knead and squeeze slowly at your hips you squeal and fall into laughter but when he begins blowing bigger raspberries and his hands speed up you laugh even more and then finally he does the biggest ones he can manage as his hands move as quick as possible and you scream a bit before falling into silent laughter “AAHH AHAHAH NAHAHAHHA ………….” Ranboo looks to Wilbur and Wilbur nods and so Ranboo says “tubs it’s time to stop” tubbo slows to a stop and gently climbs off you, Ranboo let’s go of your wrists and so you immediately curl up giggling

You begin to feel yourself be lifted up and you squeak softly giggles increasing a moment until ranboo says “it’s okay we’re all done we’re just gonna go cuddle in the bed okay?” You nod through the giggles saying “ohohokkhahayyy” tubbo smiles brightly as he says “thanks for all the help wil!” Wilbur nods “anytime tubbo anytime tubbo! Bye y/n bye ranboo!” You mumble a goodbye as ranboo giggles softly saying good bye as well

And so the day ends with the three of you cuddling as you all fall asleep

#ler!tubbo #ler!ranboo #ler!wilbur sorta #lee!reader #mcyt tickle fic

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fallen420 · 3 years

Text

Rebel Spy - Chapter 12: The Trio

After all the chaos that happened with the ice planet, the frog lady, the baby eating her eggs, landing the practically destroyed crest, reuniting the frog lady with her husband, we finally seem to catch a break. These Quarrens know where other Mandalorians are and agreed to take us to them on their boat.

The baby's pod floats in between me and Din as we look out onto the ocean breathing in the salty air.

“You ever see a mamacore eat?” A Quarren says to us, “Quite a sight.” When neither of us responds the Quarren speaks again,” Child might take an interest. You should take a look. Come on over here.”

We follow the Quarren to the middle of the ship where there's a huge hole covered by a cage. We stand at the edge of it and we watch as the Quarren open the cage and drop fish inside. The Quarren is talking some more but I don’t listen.

I watch as the water begins to bubble and before either of us can react the Quarren pushed the baby's pod into the water right above the mamacore.

“No!” Din and I yell at the same time. Next thing I know I’m also being pushed in.

I hold my breath as I try to look around but it's no use in the murky water. I hear a splash and I know it's Din jumping in after us.

Din and I swim up to the top, grabbing onto the bars, coughing as we attempt to catch our breaths. The Quarrens above us hit our hands making us let go of the bars.

I take a deep breath and I sink back down once more. Din seems to be having more trouble than me as he goes back up for air sooner.

Once the burning in my lungs becomes too much I go back up with Din just in time to see a blue Mandalorian land and attack the Quarrens. Din continues to cough as we see two more Mandalorians land helping the first one.

I only get a glimpse of the first ones helmet but I immediately remember that day the first and only time I ever met her before today.

The cage opens again and I grab onto the edge holding myself up. Bo kneels down in front of the water and puts her hand out in front of me. I shake my head, “Him first.” She puts her hand out in front of Din and he takes it, “Theres a creature,” I say through ragged breaths, “Has my kid.”

As one Mandalorian helps me out the other jumps in to get the kid. Bo sits Din and the Mandalorian sits me next to him. “The Child help the child,” Din begs Bo, his voice strained from all the coughing.

“Don’t worry brother. We’ve got this.”

Din places a hand on my thigh and squeezes as we both try to catch our breaths.

After a few agonizing moments, the Mandalorian jumps out with the pod in her hands. She kneels down next to us and rips off the lid of his pod.

She takes him out and hands him to me. I make sure he's alright and I hold him close to my side. Din reaches over to brush his ear before looking back at the Mandalorians, “Thank you. I’ve been searching for more of our kind.”

“Well, lucky we found you first,” Bo says.

“We’ve been quested to deliver this child I was hoping that…” Din stops speaking when they take off their helmets

Oh no

Din stands up getting in defensive mode, “Where did you get that armor?”

“This armor has been in my family for three generations.”

“You do not cover your face. You are not Mandalorian.”

“Mando,” I say, stepping closer to him, “This is Bo-Katan, she was the leader of Mandalore. Last I knew of at least.” I know he's wondering how I know her but he decides to ask later.

“He's one of them,” the man says

“One of what?” Din asks.

“She's right, I’m of clan Kryze. I was born in Mandalore. I fought in the Purge. I am the last of my line. And you are a Child of the Watch.”

“The Watch?”

“Children of the Watch are a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalorian society/ Their goal was to re-establish the ancient way.”

“There is only one way. The way of the Mandalore.”

Din walks over to the edge of the boat before I follow I whisper, “I’m sorry,” to Bo.

Din grabs on to me tightly, he turns on the jetpack, and we fly away.

“What do you mean it makes sense?!” Din practically runs ahead of me with the baby in his hands. We walk through the doc trying to get back to our ship. It's dark and both of us are very irritable after the past few horrible days we’ve been having.

“I mean it makes sense.”

“Would you care to explain?” he stops walking and turns around.

“I told you I knew another Mandalorian for some time. She had her helmet off most of the time. When I met you I figured you had older views.” He just huffs and turns around, “Just because your way is different than theirs doesn’t make you or them any less of a Mandalorian.”

“How is it that you know everybody?” He decides to take this argument in a different direction.

“You meet a lot of important people when you fight in a rebellion,” but that answer isn't good enough for him, “Look for a while I hung out with a crew and we went on a mission to save one of the members' fathers. Bo came in as reinforcements that's all.”

He turns around and keeps walking, “Look I can’t imagine what it's to know that something you’ve been told your entire life is not the complete truth. I’ll never know. But aren't you slightly open to the idea that there's another way?”

If he was planning on responding he doesn’t get to because Quarren comes out of the dark corner. “Hey!”

“Oh come on,” I whisper angrily at the fact that we have to deal with yet another problem.

The Quarren steps closer to us, “You killed my brother.” More Quarrens come out of the darkness.

“Let us pass,” Din says.

“I don't think you understand.” Din and I both notice the Quarren charging their weapons, “You killed my brother. And now I’m going to kill your pet.” My hand hovers above my blaster as he gets closer to us.

Luckily, Bo and the others come down to help us.

“They didn’t kill your brother,” Bo says, “I did.” Bo shoots and we all take that as a queue to shot the rest. Which we do. In just a few seconds all the Quarren are dead.

“Can we at least buy you a drink?” Bo asks.

“Please.” Is all I say before walking towards the nearest Cantina.

“Trask is a black market port,” Bo says. We all sit around at a table. The baby sits in between me and Bo. Dins hand finds my thigh again probably his way of apologizing for snapping at me earlier. “They’re staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our homeworld. Once we do that we’ll seat a new Mandalore on the throne.”

“That planet is cursed. Anyone who goes there dies. Once the Empire knew they couldn’t control it, they made sure no one else could either.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear. They wanna separate us. Mandalorians are stronger together.”

“That's not apart of our plan. I’ve been requested to take this child to the Jedi.”

“What do you know of the Jedi?”

“Nothing. Only what Auroras told me.”

“We were also hoping you could help,” I say, “I lost all contact with the ones I knew.”

“I can lead you to one of their kind, but first we need your help on our mission.”

Why is there always a mission?

“You see that Imperial Gozanti freighter?” Bo asks us. We stand on a broken ship in a junkyard of some type, looking at the freighter that is sitting on a doc, “It's being loaded with weapons as we speak. “According to the ports manifest, its scheduled to depart at first light.”

They explain how they scan for life forms before taking off which means that we have to fly up there once it takes off.

After discussing the plan Din and I drop the kid off with the frog lady where he will be safe. Both of us make sure to tell him not to eat any more of her eggs.

Before Din and I can even land, Bo and Koska take out the stormtroopers guarding the doors to the ship.

Axe uses a splicer to open the door. When it opens Bo runs inside killing the three stormtroopers that were waiting for us. The rest of us follow in behind her. Din and I stay further back and I’m slightly behind him since I don’t have beskar protecting me.

In front of us, doors open revealing more stormtroopers. We use the sides to take cover. Each of us shoots at the troopers as we slowly inch forward.

Lucky for us troopers have bad aim and we don’t so we take them out easily. We walk over the troopers' bodies and we carry on onto the next room.

We take an elevator into the cargo bay where the weapons are. Again we are met by stormtroopers. We take out the troopers in the hall but before we can enter the cargo bay the doors closed.

Without saying anything I walk over to the panels in front of us. I press a few buttons and the screaming confirms that the doors to the cargo bay opened making all the imps in there fly out.

I close the doors and I open the ones in front of us so we can get the weapons.

The Mandalorians start opening the boxes and admire all the weapons.

Bo talks on the comlink to one of the imperial officers "Oh, We’re not jettisoning anything. We’re taking the entire ship.”

“Huh?” I say in confusion.

“What?” Din also questions.

“Put some tea on we’ll be up in a minute,” She puts the comlink down and Din and I walk up to her.

“Bo, this is more than we signed up for,” I tell her.

“There is something I need to rule Mandalore. Something that was once mine. You were there when I first go it, Aurora.”

“You lost the darksaber?”

“I was stolen from me,” she says defensively, “Look they know where it is. Regardless, we are taking the ship for the battles ahead.

“I got you your weapons,” Din says, “We have to return to our ship with the foundling.”

“If you want my help finding the Jedi, you will help me take this ship.”

“You’re changing the terms of the deal.”

“This is the way,” she says almost mockingly.

She walks out and the other two follow leaving me and Din alone.

“The faster we do this, the sooner we can be back on the crest with the kid.” He just nods his head before following the others.

We start to make our way towards the front of the ship where the cockpit is. The ship moves suddenly and we all fall to the sides. Din grabs my hand as we hold on to the walls. The pilot is taking the ship down to try and get us off of here.

“Let's move!” Bo says. Din lets go of my hands and we both pull out our blasters, “There’s the bridge. Come on!”

There are more stormtroopers waiting for us and we take cover on either side of the doors.

“How many troopers?” Bo asks.

“Sit to ten. Two with heavy repeating blasters,” Axe answers her.

“We need to move now.”

“They have too much firepower!”

“Were still dropping,” Koska reminds us.

Din puts his hand in mine and he squeezes which means he's about to do something stupid. He lets go and he takes two charges out of his utility belt, “Be careful.” I tell him and he nods.

“Cover me!” Is all he says before running out into the trooper's blasts. All of the blasts bounce off his armor. I see him lay down before throwing the chargers where the stormtroopers stand.

I cover my face as fire and smoke begin to fill the area. Once it clears we run out and Din is already standing up, running towards the cockpit not giving me the chance to even ask if he's okay.

We open the door to the cockpit. Din grabs the pilot and throws him out of the chair. Din sits on the pilot's seat while I sit in the co-pilots.

We both grab on to the control wheels in front of us. Both of us pull up trying our hardest to stop this ship from plummeting into the ocean.

“Easy, easy,” Din says his voice strained from using all his strength to get this ship up

After a few moments of pulling up, we feel the ship start to go up in the air again. We both let go and start to catch our breaths.

“No!” Bo yells and as we turn around the imperial officer is on the ground.

“Look we have to go, he sent a distress signal,” I tell her.

Din and I stand up and Koska takes his spot.

“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Bo asks.

“There’s something I need to do,” Din says.

“The offer stands if you change your mind.”

“Where can we find the Jedi?” I ask her.

“Take the foundling to the city of Calodan on the forest plant of Corvus. There you will find Ahsoka Tano. Tell her you were sent by Bo-Katan. And thank you. The both of you. Your bravery will not be forgotten. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Din repeats.

We get the kid back from the frog lady and her husband. We finally sit on the falling apart razor crest the kid seated in my lab as Din starts the ship.

Once he gets the ship in the air I ask, “Are you good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he doesn’t turn around to face me like he normally would.

“I mean with everything Bo said. Don't you wanna talk about it?”

“There's nothing to talk about Aurora.”

“Right, it’s always nothing isn’t it.”

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #bo katan kryze #bo katan #baby yoda #agent whiskey #Frankie Morales #oberyn martell x reader #agent whiskey x reader #pero tovar #dave york

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

Kisses and Distractions (Hawks x Reader) pt. 1

Prompt: How hard can it be for two Pro-Heroes to kiss?

a/n: theres not much meat to this since i had a random thirst call for this bird man XD i hope ya’ll enjoy this and if you want a part 2, drop a comment below :)

Warnings: Cursing

Link: part 2

Heroes. A vast majority of people wanted to become heroes. Each person has their own reason, whether it be for fame, money, power, or they were just deemed destined for it.

Being a hero, be it lower ranked or high ranked, almost always had to push their personal lives aside in order to put the civilians first. That’s what they were trained to do. Despite having classes on how to balance your Pro life and Personal life, it was always a struggle to balance things out.

Paparazzi on the other hand just loved to get the latest dirt on heroes. Be it tripping on the sidewalk, spilling their drinks, or even just hanging out with other fellow heroes. They needed the latest scoop. Though it is understandable that some of them need those to feed their families, some of them are just plain ass hats that love to ruin the moment.

Speaking of ruined moments, Pro-Hero #2 and an underground have their fair share of ruined moments. It all started when they finally told their feelings towards each other. Given, of course, that the situation was not the best.

“Is everyone safe?” You inquired to one of your fellow heroes. Both your hero costumes are covered in uneven mixtures of blood, dust, and sweat. “My area’s been cleared.”

“There’s still a few people left on the top floor.” The hero replied. His eyes now fixated on the building. Fires dancing their way out the window while smoke littered the air. There had been a random villain attack whose quirk was related to pyrotechnics. It was indeed flashy when random fireworks began to break through the windows.

“Take care of the injured.” Another hero commanded. “Hawks is doing his thing up there.”

Now, normally, you wouldn’t mind. That was his line of work and he did a pretty bad ass job with it. The only problem now was that he had been recently given a mission that caused him to use a lot of his feathers. It had only been a day and his wings were badly uneven.

One by one, the people stuck on the top floor came swooping down. Red feathers carrying one person each. Landing them as gracefully as the owner does. Looking up, your heart clenched at the sight of Hawks free falling with barely any feathers left. Seeing his feathers race towards him made you let go of that breath you had been holding.

Though it wasn’t as iconic as he usually lands, he still managed to look good anyway. Going back to treating the injured, your heart finally calmed down at the sight of him skipping towards Endeavor.

“You might as well just tell him, you know…” Ryukyu whispered. The two of you were now getting your injuries checked. Well, mostly you. “What’s there to lose, right?”

“The fact that he’s #2, that’s what’s holding me back.” You sighed as the nurse finished bandaging your forearm. “Or maybe because if he doesn’t feel the same way, he might tease me about. I doubt he’d do that but I think he might.”

After the last bandage had been placed, you thanked the nurse but asked if you could keep the blanket. Amused at your little act, she agreed and you thanked her for saving you a trip from the department store.

“You do know that blanket is dirty…”

“And blankets are hella expensive compared to laundry detergent.” The small finger gun you used on Ryukyu made her disown you. Face palming as she walked away. While you, questioned your sanity and Hawks’ effect on you. This was the first time you had ever pulled out those so called finger guns.

Your thoughts were cut when an uneven cluster of feathers framed your sight. Turning around, you were now face to face with #2. Thankfully, your face was covered with bandages. Enough to cover the blush forming on your face.

“You look pretty beat up, birdy.” His eyes scanned you from top to bottom. His fingers played with the edges of the blanket. The way he stared at you sent chills down your spine and your joints to grow a little weak.

“You’re one to say.” Somehow, you poked his shoulder. “Gave me a fright when you jumped from the building.”

“Bet you liked it.”

There it was. That wink that always catches you off-guard. Your grip on the comfort blanket tightened and you had to look away. If he would flirt even more, you would probably cave in and puke out your emotions to this birdman.

“You okay, birdy?”

“Yeah.” You lied. “Just a little shaken at the amount of, uh, injured people.”

“Such a bad liar.” His head tilted to the right. Pulling his visor’s down, you were blessed with a much clearer view of his eyes. You’ve never been fond of the color yellow but he made you think otherwise. “You can talk to me, you know that.”

‘Should I tread the waters? Fuck it.’

“I’m only a bad liar when it comes to you.” You began to trace circles on his shoulder using an index finger. Reading people wasn’t your strength but you could tell he was tense.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, birdy…” Hawks warned as he took a hold of your wrist. His gloved hand easily wrapped around it. Yet, his hold was gentle. Making sure no pain was inflicted.

‘Damn it.’ Your heart sunk. This would have to be the first time he didn’t flirt back. 'At least you kept your mouth shut.’

Letting go of your wrist, Hawks examined your features. Though you were smiling, he could see how your eyes looked sad. Part of him loved that small action you did. It felt as if electricity ran through his veins. It took a lot of mental control to stop his feathers from ruffling.

Hawks knew you liked him. He was all too aware that you were keeping things bottled up. But, he was smart enough to know that should he pursue you, you being underground would garner a lot of attention. And he knew you hated attention.

“Anyway…” You continued. Looking at the people around you. “I gotta go. Ryukyu’s waiting for me.”

“Not so fast.” Before you could turn he managed to grab your shoulders. “You misunderstood something.”

“And that is?”

“You know what happens to me if you touch me like that…” Hawks leaned in and whispered. Making sure that his feathers blocked the view from outside.

‘Oh?’ Your mind went places.

“Sadly, I don’t know what happens,” This was a bit of truth though. On occasions, you would find enough courage and comb through his feathers but usually you’d be receiving a twitch of his eye.

Hawks ran his fingers through his messy hair. A sigh to accompany it as well. When he looked into your eyes once more, your breath hitched. Maybe he already knew about your feelings. Most probably, yes at this point now.

“I know how you prefer to be lowkey.” Hawks began. “If I tell you that I reciprocate your feelings tenfold, the limelight would definitely fall on you. Making you uncomfortable is something I don’t want.”

“You like me back?”

“You may be a hero but you’re pretty blind to my attempts, (y/n).” Hawks teased. Bringing you in for a hug. “You ready to be in the spotlight if it means being with me?”

“I don’t really mind it to be honest. I was thinking of going to a few interviews every now and then but,” You scratched your cheek. This was something you had been meaning to tell him. You just couldn’t find the right time to do it. Staring at the linings of his body suit, you exhaled and shut your eyes. “I was kinda thinking of joining your agency. I mean, not for you, but mostly because I like how everything is so fast paced. Never a dull moment at Hawks’.”

“Well if that’s the case, application granted.” He gave you the go signal along with finger guns. “You can be my literal side kick.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to talk about that though. I don’t do well with team work.”

“Pushing that aside, that would make things easier for us. I can arrange things where you won’t be caught in the center of attention.” Hawks reassured you. Leaning in closer, he brushed his nose with yours. “That would mean I get to see you everyday.”

“Most probably, yeah.”

“God, I wanna kiss you so badly right now.” His feathers ruffled up. The way he pouted his lips as he stared at yours was too cute.

“I’m already wrapped around both your arms and wings,” You gave a shy smile. Seeing how your cheeks were flushed made him throw his resolve away. All he just needed was for your proper consent. “I don’t mind~”

Like a child, he smiled brightly. Once again, his feathers ruffled and even puffed up ever so slightly. Taking both his gloves off, he stuffed them into his jacket’s pocket and delicately cupped both your cheeks. His hands were calloused but you had always wanted them to touch your skin. Now, they finally were.

“I have to say, though.” He said as he leaned in. “We should’ve done this months ago.”

Seeing his golden eyes this close hit hard.

“I would have to agree on that, birdy.” You leaned in as well.

The two of you shared a smile as you began to meet halfway.

“HAWKS!”

Just as your upper lips brushed each other, the two of you froze on the spot. Confusion and irritation in both your wide opened eyes. Barely a few centimeters and contact would have been made. If you two had been given a few more seconds, you would finally be able to feel his lips on yours. He would finally taste you after how many months of deprivation.

“Cursed nuggets…” Hawks complained before letting go of your cheeks. It drove him wild when he saw the pleading look on your eyes. It yelled for him to just kiss you right there. “Don’t give me that look, baby. How dare he ruin our moment…”

Removing his wings and turning around, the two of you were now face to face with Endeavor. The #1 hero had just landed a few meters away from where you both stood. His flames danced with power as he made his way towards you.

“You realize you just ruined an important moment, Endeavor-san!” Hawks joked.

“Hawks…” You punched his shoulder. Tried, at least. He easily dodged it. Curse him and his feathers.

“Hawks. (your hero name). We have to meet with the others.” Endeavor relayed his message. Eyes focusing on Hawks then at you. “The two of you were not there for the hero count so they had to send me of all people.”

“You’re the only one who can get me workin, Endeavor-san!” The birdman replied as he skipped and flapped his uneven wings at the #1. Their relationship was always enough to make you giggle.

“Let’s go.” Endeavor commanded as he used his flames to propel himself to the air.

“I suppose you need a lift?” He teased as he offered a hand. When you accepted, he pulled you in and immediately cupped your cheek with his free hand. “Where were we?”

Smiling you leaned on to his body and wrapped your arms around his neck. Both of you breathed in and inched closer and closer.

*Ding*

“You gotta be kidding me, Chickadee…” Hawks furrowed brows.

“I’m sorry~” Taking your phone out, you read the notification only to be bummed out. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at the news article of All Might. “Fucking notifications.”

Hawks suddenly pushed the two of you into the air. Just in time for Endeavor’s flame to hit the ground. By now, the two of you were pissed at not being able to continue a simple kiss.

Flapping his wings faster, he zoomed past Endeavor leaving a few stray feathers behind to annoy him.

So going back, how hard can it be for two Pro-Heroes to kiss?

The answer would have to be that it’s tricky. Thankfully, the two of you did not give up. As to how you two kissed, we’ll save that for another time :)

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #wing hero hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks

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asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ lucky ❞, z.c

pairing → chenle, reader

genre → fluff, angst? a lil??

word count → 3.1k (woah!!)

summary → "you just deserve… so much more than that. do you realize how true that must be for a boy you just met today to see it?"

a/n → this is 1000% inspired by this pic that dropped yesterday like.....chenle looked so good it reminded me why i bias him!!!! anyway i kind of like this it has rich chenle and daddy issues thats all xoxo (also i did not proofread like at all so if theres any typos it was taeil's fault lol)

everyone in the room is utterly unbearable.

you understand it's rude to think so but you're sure that if you were to tell any of them this they would instantly agree with you. of course, you would never do that. because you're a ceo's daughter; you're not allowed to have an opinion that would make you look imprudent, rude or anything less of perfect.

so what do you do? you smile. you make small talk. you try your best to ignore your sore feet that are confined in your pumps and the way your dress rides up your butt. your lack of manners could not and would not be the reason your father missed out on any chance to make some more money. he made that very clear to you. after all, the only reason he dragged you along to all these house parties was so you could make make a stellar impression. he wanted all the businessmen in the room to remember mr. l/n and his charming young daughter when they got in their limousines and drove back home so that they'd remember when they discussed mergers and new projects.

you were never comfortable with the idea of your father essentially using you as some sort of accessory but you sometimes went days on end without seeing him so you took what time you could get. of course, helping him build his empire and boost his reputation wasn't your preferred daddy-daughter activity but you would never tell him that. it would just cause problems in your already rocky relationship and you certainly didn't need that.

"y/n." speak of the devil. "why don't you make conversation with the other guests? or better yet, come talk to these investors. i'm sure they'd love to meet you."

you know exactly what your father means by that so you try to find a reason to decline. anything would be better than watching him suck up to anyone with deep pockets and try to get you to do the same. "um." you repress a relieved sigh when you catch sight of yuna entering and handing her coat to a housekeeper. "actually i see my friend over there. i think i'll just go talk to her."

he frowns and you realize his face seems to be permanently stuck like that when he was around you. you can't remember the last time you'd seen an authentic smile from him. you suppose that was reserved for when he was trying to seal a deal.

"just behave yourself," he says. he leans into your ear. "remember, people are watching."

then he's gone, leaving you standing alone for a split second before yuna comes and takes his place.

"hey!" she draws out the word for dramatic effect.

"hi," you respond, your greeting lacking the enthusiasm hers held. she wasn't your favorite person but it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't observing your every move. it gave you a break from the ridiculous standards everyone else seemed to hold you to.

she brushes her bangs out of her eyes as she sized you up. "ooh, i love your heels! how much?"

"like 15 bucks." her jaw drops and you can't help but giggle. "yeah, i bought them at a thrift store. just don't tell my dad."

she grins. "wow, i always thought thrifting was for poor people but i just might have to check it out now."

that was the thing about yuna. she was stupid rich and she wouldn't have it any other way. she loved designer brands and houses so big you could get lost in them. you didn't blame her for any of that but it was the fact that she didn't mind the stuffy dinner parties and being shown off that was a little puzzling to you. unlike you, she had perfected her fake laugh and polite small talk long ago and sometimes you wondered if she really did care about all these companies and powerful men. but you know that as long as she gets to wear her thousand dollar dresses and go home to her cozy mansion, she'll be happy. she did what it took to keep her lavish lifestyle and was a little too materialistic for your liking and you guess that's where you and her are different.

you finally answer her. "yeah, definitely. it's a lot of fun."

her eyes light up. "we should go together one of these days!"

your silence is definitely too long but thankfully, yuna doesn't notice. her short attention span had caused her to focus on something else—more specifically, someone.

"oh my god," she says. "who is that?"

a boy who looks around your age has appeared, accompanied by a middle-aged man in a suit. the older man is more put together by far but you still can't help but stare at who you assume to be his son. he's wearing a black jacket on top of a striped shirt and you notice that chains hang from his neck. a belt holds up a pair of dark and tight pants. and, god, is he wearing converse?

you can't help but crack a smile at that. you envy his comfortable look; you would trade all the chanel and prada in the world just to wear a t-shirt and pair of sneakers and not have everyone in the room judge you for it. but his outfit isn't the only thing you admire. he must have crazy amounts of confidence to show up looking like he does when being surrounded by so many managers, executives, and company heads. you can only imagine what they're thinking and yet, the boy didn't seem to care or look uncomfortable in the slightest. in fact, he seems oddly at ease, his eyes scanning the room. at one point his eyes sweep over you and you lock eyes.

you watch as he brushes his bangs out of his face, almost like he's trying to get a better look at you. you only stare back, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. he offers you a half smile, his eyes squinting slightly and cheeks growing. you can't help but smile back, noticing just how the stranger's had an adorable baby face.

he looks away when he notices his father gravitating towards a group of businessmen and follows him. you almost wonder if he was in the same position as you were, if he was nothing but a poster child who was shown off at every event and party there was. then you notice how his father holds him tightly and smiles widely—genuinely—when he introduces him to others.

your father never did that. he wouldn't let you wear clothes like that either. you could only assume that this boy and his father were different from the rest of you. maybe they sat down and had dinner together everyday? talked to each other about their day? you almost throw the idea out of your head completely because it seems just too foreign to you.

"oh my god," yuna says. that seemed to be her favorite phrase. "i've never seen them before. what do you think they're doing here?"

you shrug. "maybe they're new to town?"

she hums. you both stay silent, observing the pair before yuna seems to grow impatient. "well i'm gonna go meet them. i can't handle being out of the loop. wanna come?"

you say agree. you feel obligated to. for the first time in forever you're actually interested in something at one of these dull parties, you're not going to stand around and just watch.

you approach the newcomers, both your fathers and a couple other businessmen conversing with them. you wonder if they've already asked them how much they're worth or if they had the decency to wait a minute before sticking their noses in their business. but, you knew how people like them operated; decency was way too much to ask.

"hi daddy!" yuna enters the conversation swiftly.

"hi, sweetheart," her father responds, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "this is my precious daughter, mr. zhong." he turns to yuna. "he and his son are visiting us all the way from our china branch. yuna, introduce yourself."

she doesn't need to be told twice. "hello, i'm yuna. i'm 17 years old and i'm studying at daewon preparatory. we're glad to have you here.it's a pleasure to meet you both."

mr. zhong smiles fondly at her. "the pleasure is all mine, young lady. what a beautiful daughter you have, mr. shin. she seems very capable."

yuna's father pulls her close to him, smiling at mr. zhong then her. "she sure is." you catch the subtle wink he throws her way, a silent 'good job' for that cute little introduction she did which was sure to score them some popularity points with the zhongs.

your father pulls you close to him and wraps an arm around your figure. both mr. zhong and mr. shin seem to be quite the fans of physical contact and although your father was not, you know that if that's what it took to make a good impression, he would become one, at least for the night.

"this is my daughter, mr. zhong." he turns to you and you take it as a cue to say something.

"hello, mr. zhong. i'm y/n." your introduction ends there and you feel your dad's grip on your arm tighten, indicating how unsatisfied he was with your brief answer.

you catch mr. zhong's son smile for the second time that night. although there is no mysterious eye contact this time, just a cute boy probably making fun of your lame introduction.

"well, how old are you, y/n?" mr. zhong asks, making conversation for you.

"i'm eighteen."

"oh, so is my son! isn't that right, chenle?"

his son—chenle—nods.

"well, i think we should leave the children to become acquainted. what do you think, gentlemen?"

everyone seems to agree. then, all that's left is the three of you.

to your surprise, chenle speaks first and it's a reintroduction. "i'm chenle."

you copy him. "i'm y/n."

"and i'm yuna. so, you're from china right?" she doesn't give him a chance to respond. "i read that there are over four million millionaires there. are you one of them?"

he furrows his brows and you can't help but sigh at yuna's question. she was fixed on the money aspect of things, as usual.

"i guess," he says, giving it little thought.

she practically squeals. "you're probably one of the youngest in the country! have you ever thought about that?"

"not really. i don't really like to think about money or these companies or big shot business dudes or any of that," he says, bluntly. "i mean, it would just make me feel more privileged than i already am. besides, it's all just a big headache. i'll leave it for the old man."

yuna's face falls and you hold in a laugh.

you finally chime in. "you know what, i have to agree. so much money can drive a person crazy. sometimes it even goes straight to their heads."

chenle can't hold back his amused snort. both him and yuna know exactly who you're referring to.

she wastes no time defending herself. "but, with reason y/n. to be fair, only 1% of millionaires are under 35 and here i am at 16."

you restrain yourself from scoffing. "well i'm sure the other 99% of the population doesn't get things handed to them on a silver platter by their daddy, yuna."

she stares you down, her huge, hazel eyes never leaving your e/c ones. "i think it'd be best if i excused myself. i'm going to go find my father, if you both don't mind."

"not at all," chenle mumbles as you both watch her stomp away.

you exhale loudly. "i knew i was gonna snap one of these days."

"well, if you didn't i would have," chenle responds.

"frankly, i don't regret a thing," you say, turning back to his smiling face.

"mm, and what if she tells daddy?" he inquires, folding his arms.

you playfully raise a brow. "i'll have you know, i'm one of the 1% of millionaires that are under 35, i think i have the advantage."

he giggles. "oh god, that was unbelievable. where did she even get those numbers from?"

"i have no idea but it was just… painful to watch. i'm gonna need a breath of fresh air after that."

he nods in agreement and you both walk towards the nearby balcony. you step outside, the breeze whipping your hair all over the place and leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"you know," he begins before silence can settle upon you two for too long. "i was really hoping there would be someone around my age here tonight. and i don't know if you usually come to these things or if you don't but either way, i am so glad you're here."

this comment reminds you of the way he had stared you down upon arriving and it makes your face feel a little warm despite the cool air of the night. "'cause i'm the only thing standing between you and a wonderful night with yuna."

"oh i'm sure it would've been real wonderful." he gives you a 'yeah right' look. "we couldn't even hang around each other for more than five minutes, i'm positive it would've been a long night."

you nod. "every night with her is. usually she's the only person i end up talking to at these things and let me just say, i think she's more money-hungry than all the men in there combined."

chenle whistles, lowly. "combined? that's dangerous."

"yeah, she takes after daddy," you mutter, picking at your nail polish that has begun to peel.

"what a relief you don't," he says. "or else i think i would have thrown myself off this balcony by now."

"well, you don't have to worry about that. you and i are on the same boat. money doesn't interest me all that much. definitely not to that extent."

"what does interest you?" chenle asks, turning his attention to you instead of the city lights in the distance.

you shrug. "i haven't figured it out yet. i'm too busy trying to be perfect. and i have a long way to go. just ask my dad, he seems to have really strong opinions on the matter."

"oh, i get it," he says. "you're so focused on being the perfect daughter that you haven't figured out what's going on in there." he wiggles his finger around your forehead.

"i just… want to make him happy. i want to see him smile because of me. even if 'me' is that daughter he expects me to be. i'm okay with being her. i'll take it."

chenle furrows his eyebrows and suddenly he doesn't seem to get it anymore. "you really... become an entirely different person? just for him? i mean, you seem like a good daughter. i don't understand that, y/n."

"and you won't understand, chenle," you respond. "because your dad loves you. he lets you wear your edgy clothes to business parties and doesn't worry about what everyone else is gonna think. he doesn't worry about first impressions, he doesn't force you to become someone else for strangers. he doesn't put any business deal above you. he doesn't chose his job over you, chenle and that's great. i'm so happy that's not the case with you. but it is for me. and when you know that the only time your dad is going to want anything to do with you is when you can help him make a quick buck or good impression, you resort to facades and doing anything you can to make him appreciate you. just a little."

chenle's arms envelop your shivering figure before you can say another word. his hands run up and down your arms and his chin rests atop your head. he inhales deeply, taking in your wonderful scent. he knows it's probably some off the wall expensive perfume.

"i'm so sorry, y/n," he mumbles into your coconut scented locks. "i'm sorry that you have to do that and that i won't ever be able to understand it. you just deserve… so much more than that. do you realize how true that must be for a boy you just met today to see it? and it breaks my heart that your own father doesn't because you really shouldn't have to suffer through that. he doesn't have his priorities straight but that shouldn't be an excuse for him to neglect his own daughter." he detaches from you so he can look directly into your glossy eyes, holding you at an arm's length away. "and he has no idea what he's missing out on, y/n. you're so headstrong, so humble and so much more than just a pretty face or someone's daughter. and if he can't treat you like the incredible individual you are then...." he exhales and you catch his breath blow in the air. "then please let me."

your bottom lip is quivering. you had never heard such nice words. and you don't have the slightest idea what he means by that last bit but you still nod and jump right back into his arms. because you have decided that's where you feel safest. where you can be yourself, freely and unapologetically.

"the second i walked in this place, i hated it," he mumbles and a laugh escapes your lips. "but then i saw you. and it got a little better. then i met you. and it got a lot better. we just met but i already can't seem to get enough of you, y/n." he chuckles as if he can't believe it himself. "you must be something really special. and i have the privilege of seeing that."

you move away from his chest and look up at him. your hands thread through his tufts of hair that match the darkness of the night sky. his hands stay planted firmly at his waist. you feel like he has no intention of letting go. you would be lying if you said you did either. and neither of you seem to have a problem with it.

"i can't wait for you to finally feel what it's like to be treated how you deserve. and i can't wait to be the guy to show you. i am so, so lucky."

you smile, your teeth on display. "i'm actually so glad i came tonight. that is definitely a first."

he laughs. "speaking of firsts..." he trails off, shyly.

you raise a brow, just to tease him a bit. "what are you getting at, mr. zhong?"

he knows you're joking yet his heart pounds as he leans in and asks for permission to kiss you. "may i, ms. l/n?"

"you may," you respond, meeting him halfway.

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lovemollywho · 4 years

Text

Bitter Rivals

Okay this is dedicated to @starseternalnighttriumphant because she is literally one of my favorite Rowaelin writters (Hannah, theres a little shout out to you, you’ll know it when you see it lol)

--------------

“I swear the next time that pompous dick face asshole even looks at me, I swear - I swear Elide that I’m going to take my $4,000 dollar Louboutin’s and stab him.” Aelin let out a frustrated groan in her throat as she stacked together case files to take home for the night. Elide stood in the doorway of Aelin’s office watching her friend and boss pace back and forth grabbing various objects and stuffing them in her bag.

“I take it the meeting with the new Mr. Whitethorn didn’t go as planned?” Elide asked wondering when Aelin was going to notice that she had started to throw random things in her bag and not the case files she needed.

“Oh that’s for sure,” Aelin said waving a box of tissues in her hand. “First he wants to come in like if he owns the place, classic alpha type you know? But then what really gets me is he had the gall, the fucking nerve, to look me up and down, head to toe and then walk away! The buzzard didn’t even say anything to me! Just gave me this once over, sat down, and proceeded to ignore me the rest of the meeting.” Aelin finally noticed the box of tissues in her hand and all the random junk that she had placed in her bag. Huffing she started to pull things out and Elide did her best not to laugh.

In all reality Aelin was used to people, men, in particular, sizing her up only to underestimate her in the end. It was something that she thrived on adding fuel to her fire. But when Rowan Whitethorn the newest addition to their law firm came swaggering in and dismissed her completely something in her blood boiled over into a hot rage. It didn’t help that he was tall, muscular, and looked like he could definitely act out a scene in one of her many romance novels. He wanted to act like an arrogant jerk so in Aelin’s mind he would be treated as such and therefore off-limits.

“Well here’s some news that might make you feel a bit better.” Elide said walking into Aelin’s office and sitting down, “The paralegal gossip network has been whispering that the higher-ups are starting to look for candidates to promote to partner and,” Elide paused for effect, “It seems you are the top of the list!” The smile that broke across Aelin’s face was so big that Elide wondered if it hurt. Aelin jumped up and down in joy before regaining her composure.

“Whew okay, no big deal that’s cool. Besides, it’s not like I’ve gotten the promotion yet anyway. Do we know who the other people on the list are?” Elide shook her head.

“Not that I’ve heard, but the moment I’ve found something out I’ll let you know.” Aelin nodded and gathered her bag and purse ready to leave for the day, Elide doing the same but instead of walking towards the elevator Aelin veered towards the right. Elide paused and gave her a quizzical look, Aelin giving her a secret smile said, “I hid some of the chocolate bark that Lys made for the office.” Elide scoffed a laugh and continued on leaving Aelin to have her end of day snack.

-------------

Thirty minutes later Aelin had combed the office kitchen not once, not twice but five times looking for her secret stash of goodies but to no avail. A part of her knew that she could just ask Lysandra to make her some more but another part of her was frustrated at whoever had found the chocolate that she had clearly been hiding. Finally deciding to give up she jumped when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Is there a reason you’re tearing up the kitchen so late in the day?” Aelin turned around to see Rowan Whitethorn casually leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. Aelin’s eyes narrowed on the twig-like object in his hands. As if knowing exactly what he was doing, Rowan brought the chocolate bark up to his mouth and bit off a piece.

“You!” Aelin accused finger-pointing at Rowan. “You ate my chocolate!” Rowan looked at the piece of chocolate in his hands before bringing it to his mouth again this time taking a bigger bite finishing it off. He dusted his hands off before putting them in his pocket.

“I didn’t realize they were yours.” He said giving his shoulders a shrug. Aelin wanted to smack the smug look off of his face but instead grabbed her bag that she had put down when looking for her missing snack.

“Oh, so the chocolate that was clearly on the top shelf with multiple items in front of it, hidden from view. You didn’t think that it was someone’s and they were hiding it?” Aelin scoffed and moved to go around Rowan.

“There were some on the counter in the glass jar, why didn’t you eat those instead?” Aelin asked moving out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

“They were dark chocolate. Dark chocolate is too bitter and when I was looking in the cabinet for something else to eat, I found the milk chocolate ones.”

“Because I was hiding them!” Aelin huffed. She didn’t know what was going on with her, usually, she was more calm and collected than this, but Rowan had gotten in the way between her and something sweet. It didn’t matter that he had rolled up his white button-up sleeves and she could see the whorls of tattoos on his ridiculously toned forearms - seriously that’s not a part of the body that should even be attractive.

“Oh Aelin you’re still here, good.” Aelin turned to see Arobynn Hamel, one of the law firms partners walking towards her. She sighed internally and plastered on a smile.

“Arobynn.” She nodded in acknowledgment.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Rowan stepped out of the kitchen and into the hallway with Aelin. Arobynn’s eyes flicked to him before turning back to Aelin. “Oh good you’re both here then.”

Aelin was curious to know what Arobynn could need the two of them for.

“I’m sure both of you are aware that we are looking at possible new partners. I wanted to let you both know that you are on that list and tomorrow morning at our monthly check-in meeting we’ll go over some projects and cases that we want you to work on together.” Aelin felt like she had just gotten hit with a fright truck but her smile stayed in place. Arobynn touched his hand to Aelin’s shoulder and then walked away. Without another look or word to Rowan she walked away.

-------------

“Can you believe?!” Aelin said pouring herself another glass of wine before offering to pour Lysandra one. Lysandra held out her glass and watched with a smile as Aelin filled it up.

“I mean first the bastard doesn’t say a word to me, and then he eats my chocolate, which by the way should be punishable by death, I should know, I’m a lawyer. But then he’s my rival for the partner position?! I swear Lys, I don’t know what I did wrong in my past life or what my ancestors did wrong but this sucks. It sucks.” She took a big gulp out of her glass before picking up one of the cupcakes Lys had baked before Aelin came over.

“So what are you going to do?” Lys said taking a sip out of her glass.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what they’re gonna ask us to do, you know?”

“Well let’s worry about that tomorrow then, have you heard about his new Polish movie that’s apparently better than 50 shades?” Lys asked picking up the remote to turn on the TV.

“Um what? I wanna watch.” Aelin picked up another cupcake before snuggling into the couch.

-------------

The next morning Aelin walked into her morning meeting with a chocolate croissant and three shots of espresso over ice with sugar and cream. She sat down at her normal spot by the window and brought out her phone to look over emails when Rowan sat down next to her. She tried her best to ignore him but when he started tapping his pen on the legal pad in front of him Aelin had to put down her phone before she threw it at his head.

Before she could say something to him Arobynn walked in with three other men and two women one of them Clarisse and the others Aelin had met on various occasions but could not recall the names of.

“Ah good, you’re both here.” As everyone sat down Aelin sat up straighter. This was her chance to become a partner, something that she had been working towards since she started at Hammel and DuVency six years ago.

“Let’s get started then.” Clarisse templed her hands in front of her, “Arobynn informed the two of you of the opportunity to make partner, but rather than look at your individual cases and workloads we want to see how the two of you work together.” Elide walked in the room and handed both Rowan and Aelin some files before sitting down.

“This is Dorian Havilliard, I’m sure that you’ve seen him in the news recently. Currently he’s being sued by his father, Dorian Senior, over a breach in a business contract that they had. We will be representing the younger Dorian and I want the two of you to work this case together.”

“With all due respect,” Rowan chimed in. “Why?”

Arobynn responded, “This is a high profile case, and both of you are good looking to deal with the press. You also both have a stunning amount of wins which should make this easy. Ms. Lochan here will assist the two of you during this time.” Aelin nodded and pulled out her phone to send a quick text to Lys.

“Anything else we should know moving forward?” Aelin asked, scanning through the case file. If all she had to do was to win this case to prove that she was better than Rowan then the partnership was as good as hers.

“No, we will leave you two to discuss the important matter of the case amongst yourself,” Clarisse said standing up. “Please remember that we’ll be watching how the two of you work together during this time.” With that they all stood up and walked out of the room.

“Elide, could you get me all the files from the 2012 White Wolf case, they had a case similar to this, and pull any other files you can find on Dorian Senior, he wouldn’t be suing his son if it wasn’t important.” Aelin listed off, Elide nodding as she took notes.

“What makes you think that Dorian Senior is the one to blame?” Rowan asked. Aelin didn’t look at him as she continued to scan the file in front of her. “Because I’m not being paid to believe otherwise.” With that she stood up and walked out of the room.

-------------

Around lunchtime, Lysandra walked in holding a small green box that was trademarked to her bakery. She knocked and Aelin’s head shot up before a smile took over her face.

“Yeah! You brought it!” Aelin said getting up from her chair to hug her best friend.

“I also brought some food from Emrys,” she said holding up a takeout bag which she pulled out of Aelin’s reach, when she pouted Lys said “And, a slice of his chocolate cake.” Aelin jumped up and down grabbing the bag from Lys before pulling out a couple of fries to eat before splitting up the food between her and Lysandra.

“I love you Lys, and I love your baking but nothing will ever beat Emrys’s chocolate cake, I swear he puts crack in it.” Lys laughed at her friend taking a bite out of her own burger.

“So you gonna tell me why you needed me to make you chocolate?”

-------------

After Lysandra left, Aelin took the box of chocolate up a floor to Rowan’s office. His office door was open but he was on a call, his back towards the door. Aelin knocked tentatively, when he turned around and saw her he placed one finger up telling her he would be just a minute.

“I understand that, but in the meantime I don’t want him anywhere near his son. We’ll file a restraining order on him, I can get a judge to sign it in,” Rowan looked at his wristwatch, “about an hour. Does that work?” Rowan nodded his head to whoever was on the phone before setting it back on the receiver. He walked around his desk to the front and leaned against it, crossing on leg over the other.

Damn it, he was attractive.

“I came to bring you this,” Aelin said handing over the green box that Lysandra brought earlier. He lifted a silver eyebrow at her. Aelin shrugged and smiled.

“I realized that we might have gotten off on the wrong foot so I wanted to give you a little something so that you know where we stand. Rowan opened the box while Aelin’s smile grew brighter.

“What is this?” Rowan asked, still staring at the contents inside the box.

“It's homemade dark chocolate, your favorite.” Rowan lifted the box towards Aelin where she could see the message written inside.

“Oh, that. That’s from me.” The words ‘Rival Confirmed’ were written across the assortment of chocolate sweets that Lysandra had put together for Aelin.

“Anyway, looking forward to working with you.” Aelin turned and walked out the door feeling much more satisfied than the day before.

Tags:

@safewithintheheart

@bibliophileaddict

@acer6437

@bamchickawowow

#rowaelin #Throne of Glass series #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #my writing #bitter rivals

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gdotsand · 4 years

Text

The Fastest Way Back Home - Prologue

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Post Infinity War)

Summary - A collection of memories sprinkled along the road to regain what she lost.

Word Count -1,400 (ish)

Playlist Link - Link (will be updated as more chapters are added)

Warnings - Sadness. Angst. Bad jokes regarding muffins.

A/N - I really wanted my first published Bucky series to be happy, I really did. I fought my brain so hard but this was the first work in progress it allowed me to finish for him. I’m sorry in advance? I honestly get physical chest pains from writing this story because it also makes me sad but I will promise you happy endings and it wont (hopefully) all make you wanna curl into a ball and listen to sad songs. Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated. Also big shoutout to Lara (it wont let me tag you), thank you for encouraging me to post this finally and listen to my ramblings. You’re the real MVP. Thank you - G.Sand

Present

He'd always said that the water calmed him, the darkness lapping against the small dock. One of the main reasons he'd thrust a pros and cons list into her hand the night after viewing the house. Top of the list, the water.

There were many other things on the list, a tree that seemed like it had grown specifically for a treehouse to be constructed against the thick branches.

A living room big enough if they pushed back the furniture he would be able to twirl her around barefoot as the record player in the corner softly played old country vinyls her grandfather left her when he passed.

A wrap around porch, sure it needed some work, some of the slats have fallen though, but he promised to replace them, whitewash them and share lazy Sunday afternoons drinking fresh lemonade and watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

It felt like a life time ago, sometimes, most of the time it felt like a fever dream. Calloused fingers against her jaw line, the slipping of a golden band onto her finger, her doing the same for him. Bright smiles and her mother softly wiping the tears from her cheeks. Promises of forever and always, promises of a future beyond the hurt and loss that lingered deep within his bones.

Promises of all perfect and beautiful things that would now never come true. Promises of a life away from bloodshed and fear. Away from anger and torment. Everything turned to dust that day, breathy whispers at some ungodly hour, promises, commands, vows, everything including the man she loved turned to dust, and she had no idea.

Sometimes she could pretend, pretend he was on a regular mission, or he'd gone out to a meeting or to the store. Because he was ever present in her home, their home. The photos that adorn the walls, his jacket is still on the hook by the door, weapons safe still locked. It can only be opened by a retinal scan that now didn't exist in the world. Tony he said he can override it, find a way to disable his own systems but she declined. What was the point anymore? What was the point in anything anymore?

So she looks out at the water. Watches as the sun starts to set, another day has been added to the tally marks somewhere etched into the walls of her brain. Filed away, so she wouldn't be able to recall an exact number if asked, but still enough to keep a permanent hole in her chest since that day. Its been almost five years, and Betsy is bordering on her birthday, and she wants, she prays that she can believe that Betsy is a happy child but it always feels like something is missing. Its in the depths of her eyes, in the dark curls that sit on top of her head a question that will forever go unanswered, at least not completely. Because no sweetheart your daddy isn't coming home and no bugs he was never home to begin with. Not really, not with both of his girls. So she take things day by day and who can blame her? Honestly what else do people expect. Not that theres many people left to judge her that is. So to hell with it.

If he was here, he'd tell her to buck up. She knows that, but even Tony dare not make that joke. He'd tell her that everything happens for a reason and that everything will work out in the end. But thats Bucky all over, and Bucky isn't here.

The light shifts into something reminiscent of artwork purple and oranges splayed across the horizon, and a smooth pebble is thrown into the icy darkness, it skips across the water at speed and disturbs the darkness, but eventually like everything else the ripples dissipate into nothingness again.

"See kiddo, it's all in the wrist" Tony says, and Betsy listens, she idolises her uncle Tony more than he can know however it's not lost on anyone else. Eager to please Betsy takes the second stone from his outstretched palm, skims it across the surface of the water and it bounces once, twice, three times before eventually sinks, and Betsy squeals as she hoisted into the air in celebration. Y/n could listen to the sound of her laugh till her dying day and never get bored of hearing that little girl enjoy the freedom of happiness, but y/n? She allows herself a smile and turns back to the water, because you know, it always said it calmed him.

Steve approaches slowly behind, careful not to make her jump in the process, spends a good minute or two just watching her. She's never been the same since the snap, okay, no one has been the same since the snap but out of everyone, he thinks that maybe y/n had it the worst. And sure he may be being an overdramatic asshole as Buck might have said once upon a time but Buck's not here to reprimand him. Even if he can hear his taunt somewhere far away, carried on the winds that come from wherever he is.

"He was right you know"

Steve hums at her as a response, an explanation waiting on the other-side of her tongue that for some reason needs to know that Steve is listening before y/n continues.

"It's pretty fucking calming when you think about it"

He hums again, but it's more of an amused tone.

"I came to talk to you specifically before we do this" he says, always a man to get right to the point is Steve Rogers, there is no proverbial bush and he'll be damned if he beats around it.

"Well I assumed you didn't come here just for my muffins Steve"

"You're a married woman can we not talk about your muffins"

"Ah, no one is talking about my muffins these days" and then earns her a chuckle at least. She's always had a way with words like that, always been the one to crack the jokes. First to make light of a situation that really doesn't need it.

"We can get him back, well" he swallows but continues "we can get all of them back, but we're going to bring him back y/n"

Y/N rolls her eyes and takes a couple of steps off the dock towards the house, "Don't make promises that you can't cash Rogers i'm not in the mood" she throws over her shoulder. It only takes half as many steps for Steve to catch up and stop her with a hand on her shoulder. There are already tears in her eyes, and it's a knee jerk reaction. Because she remembers the day that Steve had made that promise to her before, years ago.

5 Years Ago

The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that strikes fear like a match in the pit of your stomach. The hollow feeling that just something, somewhere isn’t right. There are no books to read, no work to be done, no shows to watch and no mindless task that she can do that will keep her brain from thinking the inevitable. It’s always the case yet it never gets any easier.

Washing done, book shelves back into the correct organisation system. Dinner being planned in her subconscious because she has to keep that hope, that preyer that there will be dinner. There will be another set of feet under the table, a light too minimal conversation to be had and a head on the pillow next to hers at the end of the day.

But then there’s gravel crunching under tires, there’s one, two, three car doors being slammed and three pairs of out of sync footsteps growing closer to the front door. Three sets of footsteps isn’t good. She knows this. She knows as she crosses to the front door, pulls it open and meets the eyes of his best friend. Although she had known that at some point, this day might come, it makes the horror no less scary. It doesn’t make the gravel any less sharp on her knees as her breaths come quicker and Steve arms aren’t quick enough to react. To catch her before she falls.

She can see it reflected in the gaze of Nat that he’s not coming home, that something terrible, something unimaginable has happened.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat that he prayed wouldn’t be there by the time he got out of the car.

“We’ll get him back Y\N. We’re going to bring him back”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes #the fastest way back home #gee writes things #i'm so sorry...#bucky

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honeyvbarnes · 4 years

Text

Undercover

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam hates undercover work, but he soon changes his mind.

Warnings: Language?

A/N: My first Sam Wilson One-shot!!!! I love this bird boy so much.

Feedback is always appreciated! If you’d like to be added to my taglist send me an ask!

“Okay, but why me?”

Sam Wilson hates going undercover. He hated that he had to pretend to be someone else, and it is also a very well known fact that he is absolutely horrible at lying. He’s avoided doing undercover work for a while now, but karma works in mysterious ways, and he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.

“What, you don’t want to spend some alone time with me, fly guy?”

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he cant help but smile at your teasing. Sam can’t even lie about having a crush on you. The whole team knows it, and you know it too. Sam believes you’re a goddess. You constantly have men lining up, trying to find enough courage to talk to you, and you simply brush off every single one of them, with no regard for their feelings whatsoever. Your flirtatious nature has everyone under your spell, especially the great Falcon himself. What he didn’t know is that you had a soft spot for him. You definitely had a crush on Sam as well, but your underlying commitment issues always held you back from truly making a move on him. You wanted to tell Sam how much you cared about him and his stupidly handsome face, how he’s the best at making you feel wanted and normal, but the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him, so you refrained from ever allowing your feelings to get out of control.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea.” He returns with a smirk.

“Alright you two, you’ll have enough time to not fuck each other later.” Tony speaks up. Sam’s cheeks turn a cute shade of pink, and you giggle at his embarrassment. “Back to the mission.”

In less than 24hrs after your mission briefing, you and Sam are packed and on a jet to Miami, Florida. The mission itself is pretty simple, some Hydra scum has taken over a beach resort/day club, and you and Sam will act as a couple on vacation, there to check out the “beach scene.”

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Sam asks as you exit the restroom of your shared hotel room. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, but his mouth instantly waters at the sight of you.

“What, you don’t like it? I have other ones! Maybe I should wear the red one?” You ask slowly spinning in front of him. The neon orange string bikini you’ve decided to wear, leaves little to the imagination. Your hands roam the front of your body, a little too sensually, as they make their way to your bottoms to adjust them to cover your butt a little more.

“No, no this ones fine. I just think you’d draw too much attention. We are undercover after all.” Sam finally chokes out. He isn’t trying very hard to not check you out, and you notice.

“Aw Sammie, are you scared some other man might steal me away from you?” You step towards him and stand between his legs, as he sits at the edge of the bed. His hands are in fists by his sides, and his jaw twitches from clenching so hard.

“Well if they’re Hydra, yeah I would.” He deadpans.

With a roll of your eyes you turn back to the restroom. “Fine I’ll change into something more low-key.” You make sure to turn to him and wink before shutting the door.

Sam promptly plops back onto the bed with a sigh. This is going to be the longest three day mission, he thinks to himself.

The first two days are spent scoping out the hotel and beach. You try to enjoy being undercover, and spend your time tanning and relaxing. While Sam stays on alert at all times. He looks like a freaking narc, and you have to remind him to calm down. You didn’t have much of a lead for this specific mission, you two were there just to scope things out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary until you spot one of the servers enter into a secret doorway just next to the lobby bar.

You and Sam were making you way back to the hotel room after an interesting time at the resort’s day club. Sam is dressed in a pair of short board shorts and an unbuttoned linen short sleeved shirt. You’re wearing a lovely coverup and a strappy one piece bathing suit underneath. A perfect couple to anyone who saw you.

“I think I’d like to have dinner at this cute little lounge in the lobby tonight babe, what do you think?” You ask inconspicuously as your eyes dart from Sam to the bar. Sam catches the server disappear behind the bar, and he knows what you’re thinking.

“Anything you want, my love.”

After much needed showers, and a quick nap, you and Sam make your way down to the lobby for dinner.

You order a bottle of wine to share, as you enjoy your meal. Sam discreetly sends in redwing to the mysterious hideaway next to the bar. He pushes his tinted sunglasses, courtesy of Tony Stark, up his nose to see the live feed.

“What do you see?” You ask, before taking another sip of your wine.

“It just looks like a wine cellar. No weapons, no hostages. Scanning for any other secret doors… but there’s nothing.” He ends with a tuff. “This mission was pointless.”

“You really think so?” He looks at you and can’t seem to read your emotions. Your question joggles his mind for a second.

“Think what?” He asks.

“That it was pointless. I mean, I know I’m not the best partner, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying it was completely pointless.” You’re eyes turn heavy, and Sam’s heart tighten at your words.

“Baby girl, you know you’re my favorite partner. The only good thing about this mission was that I got to share a bed with you.” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively. But you don’t quite laugh at his teasing.

“You really mean that? I’m your favorite partner?” Your lip wobbles, and Sam reaches out to hold your hand in his.

“Y/N theres no one I’d rather be with right now.”

You smile but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, Sam notices that your hand feels clammy and hot.

“Sammie I- I don’t feel so hot.” You finally confess. As soon as you do, you slump in your chair. Sam is quick to stand and in one stride he is right by your side, trying to pull you back to consciousness.

“Y/N, please wake up. Y/N? Shit!” He starts to shout. He panics, you were drugged under his watch. His mind is running, trying to think of where things went wrong, and his stomach drops. The wine, he thinks. He grabs your glass and see’s a small remaining tablet at the bottom, slowly still bubbling and dissolving. In one quick motion he picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. Redwing appears and scans for any potential threats. Just as Sam makes it to the elevator, sounds of gun shots ring through the air. He pulls out his pistol from its holster under his coat and shoots at the two men charging towards them. Both men hit the ground as the doors close. As soon as you both make it to the room Sam lays you on the bed, uncertainty swirling through his veins. He thinks he might get sick, he is absolutely disgusted with himself that he let such a stupid mistake happen. He tears open his utility bag to find the burner phone to call Steve.

“Steve, man I fucked up. We need backup now. Wheres Bruce? I need Bruce on the line.” He frantically speaks, he’s panicking and it’s completely out of character for him. But he watches you as you lay unconscious, and he’s never been more worried in his life.

“Woah Sam calm down, what happened?” Steve answers in a calm tone.

“I don’t know cap, It just happened and I don’t know what to do. Our cover is blown, and Y/N’s been drugged. She’s unresponsive.”

“What are her symptoms? Does she have a pulse?” Bruce’s voice comes through the phone and Sam feels relief for at least one second. “She’s burning up man, and she’s really sweaty. She has a pulse but its weak.”

“Okay, sounds like just a basic roofie. There should be a small green bottle in your guys’ tac-bags. Sit her up and pour it down her throat. She should be fine.”

“Stay where you are Sam. Extraction is on its way.”

Sam hangs up and runs to his bag, and pulls out the green bottle. He then pulls you up and into his lap. With one hand he holds your jaw opening your mouth, he makes sure to pour out the whole bottle before throwing it to the floor. He can’t remember a time where he’s been this worried, especially for someone else’s safety. He holds you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and fourth. Built up tears start to fall from his face and into your hair.

“Baby girl I’m so sorry I let this happen. I’m sorry you hear me? God Y/N please wake up. I never told you what you mean to me. I love you, and it’s stupid but I do. You’ve stolen my heart Y/N, you can’t leave me now. Please.” He pleads.

A couple of minutes pass by and you start to move in his arms. You cough a little and he holds you tighter, not ready to see you in distress.

“Sam?” Your throat is dry and your head is pounding. “What happened?”

“Some asshole drugged you. I’m so sorry I let this happen, God I’m so stupid.”

“Did you get the bastards?” You weakly pull away just enough to look at his face, full smirk presented.

“Yeah, well at least the two that were shooting at us.” Sam sniffles.

“Aww my hero. Are you crying baby boy?” You place a hand on his jaw, wiping some stray tears from his cheeks.

“Well yeah, I thought you were dying!” He defends, quickly trying to regain his composure.

“I heard you, ya know? Everything you said to me while I was out.” You search his eyes, giving him his chance.

“Like I said, I thought you were dying.” Sam states again, looking anywhere but at you.

“Sam.” You place both hands on his cheeks now, allowing him to look straight at you. You smile, knowing damn well you can’t back out now.

“I love you too.”

“You do? “ He’s shocked, truly caught off guard because he can’t count how many times you’ve actually friend zoned him.

“Yes Sammie of course I do.” You burst out into giggles as his arms circle around you once again to settle you onto his lap. “Wanna kiss me and find out?” You now tease, regaining your strength.

Oh and he does, he kisses you silly. Sam puts all his love and emotions into the kiss and you contently sigh. His lips on yours feels like new beginnings. Something you’ve been missing in your life, but you never really noticed it was gone until now.

Sam Wilson hated going undercover, until now, that is.

Taglist: @pinnedandneedled @perpetually-tuned-out @stuckonjbbarnes @rayche776 @sebbbystaaan @the-wayward-robot @captnrogers @chloerinebarnes @valkyriesryde @captain-kelli @stateoflovinged @mushyjellybeans @bitchassbucky @an-adventureland @imma-new-soul @mypassionsarenysins @rumoured-whispers @mrwinterr

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson fic #falcon #marvel #marvel fic

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 21 - You Loved Me

~Hey Guys! Chapter 21 is out ❤️ Molly and Negan come to terms with their separation while conflict with Rick escalates...I hope you all enjoy and chapter 22 will be out on Wednesday! Love you all and stay safe 🤟🏻~

Molly and Negan are overwhelmed by their memories of each other as they both face difficulties since their separation, both of them wrangling with their 'weakness'.

Negan's POV//

'I swear to fuck, if you don't hurry the fuck up Doc, I will feed you to Lucille' I yelled in frustration.

He was taking way to fucking long to patch me up.

The bullet hole was clean but I would need stitches, at least she had done me that kindness.

I clenched my jaw at every stitch, every ounce of pain brought her flooding back to me.

Every week, I got checked over by the Doc to see if I was healing right.

But every time he peeled off my bandages, I saw her, she was walking through the main hall, smiling when she looked at me, like an angel.

I had had that vision for many weeks since she left me, always the same and every time I ran to her she vanished.

When did I become so soft? Was it her? Did she do this to me?

I scowled as I dazed, Carson now frantically finishing up with my wound.

'All done sir' he said meekly, this snapped me back into the present.

Simon now stood in the doorway, 'Negan, we're going on a supply run today. We can find Molly for ya?' he said confidently.

'No, it's a waste of time. We have to focus, because Rick, the Widow and Dreds are teaming up. So, I think it's time we pay another visit' I said smiling at him.

He scowled at my response, 'There's another thing...the girl who broke in last week, what's the plan?' he said.

'She's got guts, I like that. Keep her alive, she's valuable' I replied sternly.

He started to turn around when I stopped him, 'Oh and Si, I'm now in need of a new right-hand man' I said sternly.

'It would be an honour sir' he replied.

I faux smirked at him as he nodded and walked away.

Simon's POV//

I nodded curtly at his response. He's weak.

I walked out of Carson's office and headed down to the main hall to gather up some guys.

Fuck his plan, it's time we had real leadership.

I grabbed Keith and told him to instruct the other guys that Negan wanted them to find Molly and kill her or they would be killed.

He nodded nervously and marched hastily over to the other guys who were in agreement.

She was a threat to all of us, everything we had built. Everything I had built.

I wasn't gonna let that bitch ruin what I had.

She made Negan weak and as long as she was dead, I would be safe.

I had everything back in my grasp.

Molly's POV//

The bike had ran out of gas, so now I had to go on foot.

My thigh still ached, but I had found a house a while back which had a needle and thread which I used to sow up the wound.

I now walked through seemingly endless fields, I couldn't see anymore houses and I was low on canned food.

Suddenly out of the trees came four walkers, all snarling and leering towards me.

I felt no fear, in fact it felt strangely comforting to be back to my normal.

I grabbed my knives out of their cases and waited for the walkers to come closer.

I stabbed one in the head, while another came round to my side.

I ducked and tripped it over and plunged my knife into its skull.

I pushed the other one onto the other, they fell backwards against a tree.

Slashing my knife at their skulls, which were lined up and it plunged through both of them.

It hadn't hit me until all of them lay there, lifeless on the grass that waves of guilt and sorrow swarmed through my body.

I broke down, my knees weakening as I fell to the ground.

I could barely breathe, visions and memories of Glenn and Abraham invaded my mind.

I had never felt like this, weak and vulnerable. He had made me weak.

I grasped at my chest to steady my breathing, when my hand made contact with the metal chain around my neck.

My locket, I turned it over to reveal my initials M.C.

I thought of Tara instantly, I couldn't give up or lose faith. That place had weakened me but not broken me.

I smiled weakly as I thought of her, tears rolling down my face. I sighed deeply as the sun started to set. I needed to find shelter.

So, I carried on.

I walked for hours, until I decided to stop next to a tree.

I was weary, my energy draining out of me as I slid my back down against the tree, sinking to the ground.

There was no one around me so I rested my eyes for a few seconds.

I drifted in and out of consciousness when I heard a faint snarl coming from behind me.

When the realisation hit, my eyes opened wide as I spun around to see a walker lurching over me.

It gargled and snarled and fell on top of me as I struggled underneath.

I held it just off my face as it snapped at my cheek, its arms trying to claw at my neck.

As I tackled it and threw it off me, I straddled it and reached for my knife.

It grabbed at my necklace which was dangling in front of me as I stabbed it in its head.

I grabbed my rucksack and ran seeing a hoard of walkers approach from out of the trees.

Not even realising that I had lost my locket.

I walked a couple more miles until I saw a small village in the distance. My heart lifted.

Thank god, I thought.

All the shops and houses looked virtually empty, I doubted that there would be any useful supplies but it was safer to be inside at night.

I picked the closest one, it was the smallest beige one so it probably had less stuff but also less walkers inside.

I peeled open the door, keeping my gun steadily in my hand. I checked over every room, including upstairs.

Nothing. No walkers in sight and a cupboard with a few cans of dog food.

Memories of that cell came flooding in. I shuck it off and opened one.

I struggled to keep it down but it was better than starving.

There were papers everywhere, with torn sheets and cracks in the windows.

I placed my rucksack under my head and curled myself up.

Tears rolled down my face as I thought about him.

His warm soft bed, cuddling up with him. It felt like someone had torn out my heart.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head when I thought of Maggie. This was my fault.

What if I had said something which made him kill them? What if I was nicer to him in the beginning? I couldn't face her.

I wanted to be there to comfort her, but how could I knowing what I did?

Maybe I couldn't go back home. Maybe I never would.

A couple days later...

Negan's POV//

'All points are covered. Every contingency is already met. I come armed with two barrels of the truth. A test is upon you, and I'm giving out a cheat sheet' Eugene bellowed into a megaphone as we rolled up.

Eugene spoke to Rick first.

'H-Hello, I come salved with the hope that it is my dropped knowledge that you heed. Options are zero to none. Compliance and fealty are your only escape. Bottom lining it, you may thrive, or you may die' Eugene continued.

I sat back, scanning the people at the gates. Tara was there, but not her.

'Where's Negan' Rick yelled.

'I'm Negan' he said worriedly. I smirked at his loyalty.

Rick ducked down suddenly, they tried to fucking blow us up!

Rick tried to reach for his gun but the trash people beat them to it. They had betrayed them for us.

They opened the gates and I stepped out with Simon and the others.

I smirked at Eugene and flung an arm around him. My boy!

I stepped out in front of Rick, smiling at him.

'You ever hear the one about a stupid little prick named Rick, who thought he knew shit but didn't know shit, and got everyone he gave a shit about killed?' I yelled.

I pointed at him saying 'it's about you Rick!'

'You're all gonna wanna put your guns down now' I said sternly.

I still scanned over all of them, checking to see if she was there. What if she hadn't made it?

'No one drops anything' Rick said weakly.

'We had a deal' Rick whispered to Jadis, 'Tamil came for the boat things. Followed ones who took. Made a better deal' she replied.

I'd tried so fucking hard to save them and this is how he repays me?!

'You push me, and you push me and you push me Rick! You just tried to blow us up right? I mean I get me, my people. But Eugene? He's one of yours, and after what he did - he stepped up' I bellowed.

'You people...are animals, universe gives you a sign and you just shove your finger right up its ass!' I said while flipping off Rick.

Daryl glared at Dwight.

'Dwight, Simon, chop chop' I shouted pointing at the crate. They went over immediately and unwrapped it.

Oh boy did they have a surprise coming! They would be getting back one of their own!

They brought out the coffin and placed it upright. I looked over to see Tara, she must have thought it was Molly.

I scowled at her memory.

'So you don't like Eugene anymore. You guys gotta like Sasha! I do too' I said smiling and tapping on the coffin with Lucille.

'Got her right here, packaged for your convenience, alive and well. Now I brought her, so I wouldn't have to kill all of you, and not killing all of you could get complicated. See, I know theres a lot of firepower left in there Rick! So I'm gonna make this simple, I want all the guns you've managed to scrape up' I smiled at him.

Then scowled at his brief upper-hand, 'yep, I know about those too'.

'I want every last grain of lemonade you got left', I continued, just wanting an excuse to see if Molly was in one of those houses.

'I want a person, of your own choosing for Lucille!' I said as I pointed to her.

They now looked scared shitless.

'Daryl, ooh I gotta get my Daryl back!' I said looking at him and smirking.

How in the hell did that prick even escape?

'I see you' I said smirking while pointing to him. That would break Rick even more.

'The pool table and all the pool cues and the chalk, and I want it now or Sasha dies! Then all of you...probably' I said standing next to the coffin.

Rick was silent still.

'C'mon Rick, just because I brought her in a casket doesn't mean she has to leave in it' I said.

He didn't respond.

For fuck sake. I sighed and rubbed my forehead in frustration.

Molly already hated me, she would hate me even more if I killed anyone else. But I couldn't be weak.

'You know what? You suck ass Rick, you really do. I don't wanna have to kill her, but thats exactly what you're gonna make me do' I yelled.

Rick stepped forward, 'let me see her' he replied calmly.

'Alright, just give me a second. I might have to get her up to speed. Can't hear shit inside this thing' I replied.

I whacked Lucille against it, 'Sash, you're not gonna believe this crap' I said as I opened the door slowly.

She growled and snarled at me as she came out.

'Holy goddamn!' I said as she pushed me off the truck. She fucking killed herself.

I heard gunfire all around me.

They were taking out the trash people and some of mine.

'Ah, honey. Goddamn it!' I said as I struggled to get her off of me. She snapped and tried to bite at my face.

Jeff managed to pull her off of me but got bit in the process.

So, I grabbed Simon and retreated behind the truck.

'Ahhhh! Plan B it is!' I said as the trash people managed to wound Rick as I grabbed Carl.

I didn't want to do this, he had potential.

I knelt him down as my guys surrounded him. Jadis brought Rick over to me.

'Hello again' I said as I took Lucille from Dwight. Jadis made him kneel next to the boy.

'Well, shit Rick. You just couldn't stick with us, huh?' I said slightly amused at his efforts.

'You had to go with these filthy garbage people? No offence' I said now looking at Jadis.

'Deal is for twelve, yes?' she said.

'Ten. People are a resource' I replied.

'Twelve' she argued, she reminded me of Molly. But she wasn't.

'Ten' she conceded. I smirked at her subservience.

I sighed, 'Rick. This is just gonna make you sad. Broken. You're gonna wish you we're dead. I like having fun, I do. Maybe you think that the guy who did what he did to your friends wasn't me, like that was some sort of a put-on' I said, now moving round to Carl.

A part of me wished that wasn't me.

'Oh shit. Maybe this is on me. Maybe this is all on me. I gotta make it right. I guess I gotta start all over again' I said sternly, now looking at Carl.

'I gotta tell you Rick, if I had a kid, I'd want him to be just like your kid', sadness twinged in my gut as I said that.

'You're not gonna win' Carl said looking up at me, 'Carl, It is over' I said warningly.

'Why don't you point your one ball up the street and take it all in? I said crouching beside him.

Suddenly, there came a scream as a woman fell off one of the buildings. The look on Rick's face, he must have known her.

'Oh, wow. You just lost somebody important to you, like just now. Jesus, that is timing' I said crouching now in front of Rick.

He was shaking and tearing up.

'Well, Rick...you chose this. I truly don't know what more I could've done to warn you. This isn't a warning, this is punishment. I'm gonna kill Carl now' I said scowling at him.

'I'm gonna make it one nice hard swing because I like him. I just want you to put that in your brain and roll it around for a minute. I'm gonna kill Carl, and then, Lucille here, she's gonna take your hands' I said holding her up in front of his face.

He looked unaffected by what I just said.

'You can do it right in front of me, you can take my hands. I told you already, I'm gonna kill you, all of you. Nothing is gonna change that, nothing. You're all already dead' he whispered in my ear.

I scowled at him harder now. He had guts, I'd give him that.

I started to smile and then chuckle at his threat.

'Wow, damn Rick. Okay' I said as I got up and went round to Carl.

I plucked off his hat and swung Lucille into the air, saying 'you said I could do it!'.

Suddenly, a tiger jumped out and wrestled one of my men to the ground, killing him.

A fucking tiger!

I flung myself backwards and retreated away from it. Gunfire now ensuing.

Simon and Dwight followed me as people from the Kingdom came in on horses, including the Widow.

'End these Saviours and there accomplices! Alexandria will not fall, not on this day!' The one with the dreds shouted.

Fuck, we we're outnumbered!

We moved round to behind a car, 'they've got a goddamn tiger!' I shouted as I pelted them with bullets.

'You taste that Simon? That is the taste of shit' I said as I ran out of ammo and ran round to another car.

We needed to retreat.

The trash guys set off smoke bombs so we could escape. We climbed into the truck and drove out of the gate as I flipped Rick off in the mirror.

Once we got back, everyone was on high alert.

'You say the word and we're ready to go' Dwight said nervously, I just looked out of the window onto the courtyard.

Looking at the spots where Molly used to stand. My eyes started to well up thinking about her.

'That's good' I replied.

Eugene was still standing behind me. I spun around and pointed Lucille at him.

'How the hell do you think she wound up dead in that box?' I said angrily.

'My, um best possible posit fingers the tarp. That sealed up said box good and tight. She ran out of air' he said with sadness in his voice.

I was sceptical. I walked towards him, my eyes still glistening.

'Maybe' I said looking over him.

I sighed and turned around to walk out onto the balcony.

'So...we are going to war!' I shouted to my people who were cheering below me.

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