HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima

♡ kuroo

"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"

kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...

kuroo's jaw drops.

he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.

"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"

kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"

"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.

"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"

kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.

when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.

he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."

before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.

you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.

♡ suna

suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.

normally.

he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?

suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.

before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.

he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"

okay? fuck. he is more than okay.

suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.

holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?

as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.

he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.

"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."

suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.

♡ ushijima

"hi!"

ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -

there is no way you are real.

"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.

ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.

"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.

"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."

you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"

"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"

"roses!"

of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."

you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"

your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.

did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.

is he complaining? oh hell no.

🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!

ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya).

☆–a.n; so here it is! a continuation to THIS DRABBLE. i honestly didn't plan it, but @imaginationmess started brainstorming with me about this a few weeks ago and i couldn't get it out my head! thank you, sweets💕 i hope you like this, even tho i still owe you that villain!bakugou drabble~🙃 i'll work on it soon, i promise~

☆–a.n; also, i decided to split it in several parts. i don't know tho how many parts there will be. i have at least two more parts already written. we will see...😉 don't worry, each link to the parts will be organized in my masterlist♡

The noise around makes you a bit jumpy. It's been weeks since you've been out of your apartment since that day you finally broke down in front of your best friend Mineta Minoru, after Kats-Bakugou finally picked his stuff out of your home.

You're sitting in a little coffee shop close to where you live, waiting. The chattering, the laughs, the kids playing and screaming, the cars and buses that drive outside, everything feels heavy on your chest as it pulls up and down fastly thanks to your breathing. You know what this is, it's not the first time it happened.

Panic attacks. 

You've been having them again since he left.

And you hate them. You hate him for being the reason they appeared again. The first time it happened Mineta had finally convinced you to go out and have some ramen with him late at night after his shift. You accepted, even though you felt your body weak and heavy, only wanting to stay in bed and keep sleeping. Least to say, it ended with Mineta carrying you in his arms, your body trembling non-stop and feeling like you were choking, dying.

But right now, Mineta is not here. And you can feel your throat being closed, like someone was grabbing you by your neck with each breath you take and slowly but firmly putting pressure, until you could breathe no more.

And just when it's about to happen, when you know you're about to make a scene in front of all these people, when the darkness is making its presence in your sight, that he enters the coffee shop.

You don't know why but seeing Midoriya Izuku after so many weeks since you told him the truth, seeing him stand there at the door, a black hoodie that says "HOODIE" in the front and jeans and his typical red trainers as he scans the whole place until his green eyes find yours and smiles openly at you, seeing him walk towards you and getting bigger with each step he takes in your direction –was he ever that big and tall?–, seeing him say "hi" politely to some people who recognized the Number One Pro Hero under the hoodie as he walks inside the place. 

Just seeing him… it takes the pressure off your neck. You can breathe again.

"Hi, Y/N, sorry I'm a bit late," he greets with a shiny smile as he sits in front of you. "I had to finish some paperwork from the night patrol."

You open your eyes wide, "Y-you-" your voice sounds throaty and rough, so you clear your throat. He frowns, watching your neck, but he respectfully waits for you to continue, eyes back on yours, watching you with kindness. "You had night patrol? If I knew, I wouldn't have bothered‐…"

"Oh, no! You didn't bother me at all! You're never a bother, Y/N." His smile is radiant, it's been so long since you had seen someone smile that way in your direction. You feel bad for Mineta. When was the last time he had smiled in your presence? A real, genuine smile. You forgot. "I was hoping you got my message and that you would answer, on your time. But you did answer." You look down, you think his smiles will make you go blind because of its shine.

It was two weeks ago–or three?, you feel like you lost track of time, being on your bed and only getting up when Mineta forced his way into your apartment to make you eat or shower. It's been a while since Midoriya left that message to go grab coffee together. And he had been waiting, and you just now answered.

"I'm sorry… I needed…"

"Time, I know. Me too. It took me a while to process everything. I didn't want to get up off my bed, I barely ate… We both needed time."

You look up at him again and you see him swallow thick, like it's difficult for him to talk about it. And you get it. Fuck, thinking about it only makes you want to cry again. You get it. So you pull one of your hands that were grabbing the cloth of your pants tightly in order to help ground yourself a few moments ago when the panic attack was almost on the surface, and grab his that is laying on the table in front that separates you both.

He looks at it for a moment, your thumb caressing the scars on his hand like it's nothing, and when he looks back up, you try to smile reassuringly.

Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be okay, that's what Mineta tells you every day he goes to check on you. You started to believe he says that aloud to reassure himself more than you, seeing how you didn't have the force to even feed yourself some days and he had to do it. It took you a few days ago, when you tried to reach your phone, you had to get up from the bed and when you did, your legs gave up, making you fall straight to the floor, hitting your chin so hard you think you bit your own tongue as you tasted blood in your mouth. How was this you? Did he really have so much power over you that turned you into this corpse that couldn't even get up to reach the damn phone? Fuck no. You decided it was enough. You decided you were going to be okay.

You know your smile it's not the prettiest or most comforting at the moment, but you try. You try for Midoriya, before saying, "We are going to be okay."

His eyes fill with tears, so visible it makes you want to hold him, protect him–and he's freaking Hero Deku, the most powerful hero on Earth and the Symbol of Hope for humankind. Yet, you can't avoid feeling. Feeling that he doesn't deserve anything that happened. Feeling that he deserves so much happiness and kindness, and he hasn't had that in a long while apparently. It's frustrating watching him break, even this little as he doesn't let the tears escape his eyes and smiles back at you.

Two hours pass and Midoriya and you are still in that coffee shop, chatting animatedly, laughing even. Remembering old times, talking about the present and the future, and about the friends that connected you both.

It feels like… a rush of fresh, cold wind after a hot and humid summer day. You have been so used to the hot, the fire, you forgot that cool, fresh relief existed.

Your phone starts ringing in your little bag and you search it as Midoriya laughs at something you said about Mineta.

"And it doesn't end there…"

"Oh my God, it doesn't? What else could Mineta have done to Bakugou? I understand now why Shoto had to be called in to assist him. Mineta was faking stuff so he wouldn't help him… Genius." You see the tears at the corner of his eyes, but this time they are from laughing. And you find yourself thinking you like that better than the previous tears.

You shake your head, smiling, "He started leaving his purple sticky balls under Bakugou's car wheels." That's it. Midoriya laughs so hard it makes everyone look in your direction. But you don't mind, for the first time in a long while, you don't mind people's attention on you. Midoriya's there. And he's laughing. He is laughing. 

Life seems a bit brighter.

You pick up the call without really looking who it is. "Hello?" You talk in between laughs.

"Y/N? Oh, where… Where are you? I came to the apartment and freaked out when I couldn't find you!" Mineta says, a bit agitated. But you can't avoid laughing again given that the person you were just talking about with Midoriya called you, it is such a funny timing. You signal with a finger to your phone looking at Midoriya and word 'Mineta', which makes him laugh even harder. Midoriya understood the funny timing too. "Are those laughs? Are you laughing?!"

"Sorry… Yes. I'm with Midoriya. We came to grab a coffee."

You can hear Mineta's surprise, you can even picture his eyebrows pulling up high. "Midoriya? As in… Midoriya Izuku?"

"Yes, love, Midoriya Izuku." That makes the green-headed man in front of you shut a bit and look down at his hands. Weird.

"Ow, you haven't called me love in a while… I'm gonna cry," you roll your eyes at your best friend's dramatics.

"Shut up. Do you need something? I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, no, bun. I just came to bring you lunch and then I have to sign in. I'll probably be on shift until late at night so I made sure I cooked enough so you have leftovers for dinner too."

You smile. Your heart feels warm, and you can't help but think you have one hell of a best friend.

"I love you."

"Oh, I'm definitely crying now."

You chuckle, "Take care today, okay?"

"Always am, bun. Have fun with Midoriya, but I can already tell you are..." You can hear the suggestive tone, and you want to punch him.

"Shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

You end the call and look at Midoriya. He's not smiling anymore, just looking at his hands. His fingers fidgeting with each other, his mind clearly in thought.

"Sorry, I didn't tell Mineta where I was going today. He was worried…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem."

It sounds like there is, so you try to dissipate the tension you don't know what produced it.

"You want to know what else Mineta did?"

Midoriya looks up, eyes open wide, smile returning to his face, "There's more?!"

You nod, also smiling. "He once even left them inside the car, messing up with the engine."

"Oh my God! That's why Bakugou asked for another hero to assist him from now on!" Midoriya laughs again. You shake your head and he stops mid-laugh. "That's… It's not? Then what-...?"

"Do you really want to know?" You raise an eyebrow, sounding cheeky and challenging.

His stance changes, you see a spark in his eyes you have never seen before. He smirks and rests his elbows over the table and gets closer to you, his eyes connected to yours, as he murmurs almost in a low tone whisper, "Tell me."

You can feel your cheeks warmer under his gaze, but find the courage to copy his action and get closer to him, even closer to his ear to whisper in a secret.

"Mineta left cockroaches on the copilot seat, for when Uraraka entered the car."

You back away a bit to look at his face. He looks completely surprised, before throwing his head back and laughing so so hard, completely forgetting they are in a public space.

You laugh too, but because he is laughing so lively. You decide then that you'll try that more. Make him laugh.

It took a while to remove his clothes; he took his time with the straps and buckles of his armor. Finally, he had removed the last piece and was left with nothing but his ill-fitting skin. He tucked his hands behind his back and stood on display for her like a soldier standing to attention. This was only one of the many times he'd had to do this but that didn't make it much easier.

She was especially beautiful today with flowers tucked into her hair that complimented the gold blooms embroidered on her wedding dress. She pushed the veil back now like she wanted to get a better look at him.

"Oh," she breathed. "You..."

 He didn't look her in the eye, wanting to save himself from whatever he'd find there. Would she even stay long enough to spend the night with him? Would she sleep in the same bed? Forget about consummating their marriage, he'd be lucky if she even looked at him the same after this. Still, she was in the same room as him with her delicate scent engulfing his senses. It took a lot of willpower not to get visibly aroused.

"There are so many scars," she breathed. "How did you get such a collection?"

"Different monsters throughout the years," he muttered. "Are you done?"

 "It's fascinating. So, each scar has a memory." She reached out to touch a prominent one on his chest.

Despite seeing her reach out it still startled him when her soft hand fell on his skin. He reacted far too strongly to that, jumping back and nearly tripping over his discarded shoes. He caught his balance with a hand on the foot of the bed and stared at her, unwilling or unable to explain himself.

She had stepped back too and now stood with her hand lightly touching her neck, looking vaguely horrified. He knew he seemed more like a wild animal at this point than a man. Hilarious.

"When was the last time you were touched by anyone at all?"

 "A long time ago," he admitted, straightening from the half-crouch he'd been in.

"The Great Dragon of Elinia, too powerful to touch," she tried to joke.

He stared at her with a flat, unwavering gaze. She came alive, taking a small step towards him. He forced himself not to back away and huffed out a breath, watching her carefully. Many of his ill-fated marriages had begun and ended with his bride trying to kill him on the first night, often with a knife she had hidden in her dress.

But this bride either had no knife or was simply awaiting a better opportunity. She lifted her hand again and gently placed it against his skin. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, eyes fluttering shut as a little tension washed away from him.

"You're beautiful," she murmured.

His eyes snapped open and he tensed again, a snarl trapped in his mouth. He worked his jaw for a moment and then said darkly,

"Liar."

"I'm not! Not many can endure a dragon's flame and come out not only alive but gifted with its power," she said earnestly. "I admire your strength."

He was partly amused but largely angry.

"Does it look like it was worth it?" He sneered. "Look at me."

"I am," she said softly. "And I think you're beautiful."

He jolted away, seething. "You don't mean it. You cannot possibly mean it. What is your ulterior motive? What do you want from me? Money? Fame? My heart on a platter to take back to Galamath?"

"We're married. I know it was out of convenience for both our families, but you interest me. I could do worse."

He snorted and turned away.

"Others have tried to kill you," she said it like it was a new revelation.

"You didn't know?" He turned back slowly. "The world is cruel to its own, woman. Crueler still to mutants."

"But you help people."

"It makes no difference to them," he said. "Change out of that dress."

 She clutched at the piles of silk along her waist and raised her eyebrows.

"We have to share the bed," he grunted. "That's all."

"You wish only to sleep?" She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "What about-"

"I do not want to get killed in my sleep so don't even try." He strode into the bathroom without a backward glance.

He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she struggled out of the many intricate layers. It sounded like she needed help, but he didn't move.  He could almost picture himself helping her, pulling on those delicate ribbons that held up her dress in the back. And she'd be exposed to him, delicate and womanly. He gritted his teeth as he became aware of a fierce throbbing between his legs. He looked down, biting his lip.

 He braced himself with one hand against the wall and hesitantly touched himself. He stifled a grunt as he wrapped his hand around his cock. His palm was a little too rough and dry but he didn't care. He jerked himself off, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. He came hard all over his hand, spilling onto the marble floor. He cursed and fetched a towel, grumbling to himself.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom he was freshly washed and dressed in a pair of silk pants. It wouldn't hide an erection but it was comfortable and he figured in the dark it wouldn't matter. She turned to him, his brush in her hand.

"Sorry, it was the only one I found." Her gaze lingered on his bare chest.

"It's fine." He lay down and folded his hands over his stomach. "When you're ready for bed, turn off the lamps," he said.

She went into the bathroom and he closed his eyes. When she came out, he kept his eyes closed and breathing even so that he looked like he was asleep. She came around to his side of the bed just like he thought and he waited for her to strike him. But, she never did. After a few seconds of staring at him, she turned off the lamps and went around to her side of the bed, and lay down.

In the darkness, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He waited several minutes until her breathing slowed. She was asleep! After nearly half an hour, he fell asleep as well. But he was ready to wake up the moment she tried something. He was eventually woken up as she turned over and rolled against him.

His eyes opened and he held still. However, she was not awake, only moving in her sleep. Her nightdress had ridden up above her thighs and was pushed up even further as she slung one leg over both of his, pushing closer, murmuring. He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs inches away from his leg. He was slightly ashamed to feel the blood rush to his cock. He tried to shift away but her hands came out and clutched at him and with a blissful sigh, her hips moved in a sinuous rolling motion against his thigh.

He hissed in a breath, feeling hints of her feminine parts brush against him. What was she doing?

"Oh," she moaned groggily, eyes opening slowly.

He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to take the blame for her actions. She was the one pressing against him, she couldn't say he'd done anything. But she didn't shake him awake and demand answers. Instead, she let out a tiny moan and opened her legs wider, pressing harder against his thigh. He licked his lips, thinking she was mad to believe he'd stay asleep while she ground against him like that. Her actions were beginning to make a wet spot on his pajama pants and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal permeated the air.

He clenched his fists into the sheets to keep from reaching for her. She probably still thought he was asleep and he didn't want to scare her.

"Fuck," she hissed in frustration, unable to bring herself to climax against his thigh alone and he bit back a small smile.

And then her hand happened to brush against his cock and they both sucked in a breath. Him in arousal, her in surprise.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, her form barely visible thanks to the moonless night.

"A while," he said, staring at the ceiling.

She hesitated and he almost thought she would return to her side of the bed, but then her hand brushed against his cock again and his legs jerked minimally, trapped underneath her own. He bit back a groan.

"Maybe we can help each other?" She said courageously. "Please?"

 She didn't even have to ask for him to say yes but she didn't need to know that.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice low and gruff with lust.

"Help me cum," she said, and her unabashed words shot bolts of electricity through his body.

"Are you sure?"

She straddled his thighs, pulling her night dress up around her waist.

"Please," she said and he grunted in acquiescence.

The dark shrouded them like a blanket and even though he could see better than her, she took his hand and helped to guide it between her legs.

"There," she whispered as his finger pressed against her clit. "Oh god, yes."

She was so very wet. He wondered enviously, which man had she dreamt of before she awoke. She moaned sweetly, bracing her hands on either side of his body.

"Please," she whispered, wet and slippery against his fingers. "Give me more."

He pressed a finger against her entrance and felt it sink into her hot walls. She sat up, tense and breathless.

"You have such thick fingers," she mused. "Add another."

He did, enjoying the sound of her moans as he searched for the best way to press into her that had her hips jerking forward to ask for more. So he added a third finger and she froze breath catching.

"Slower. Let me have a moment to adjust," she asked, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Are you a virgin?" He frowned.

"No. It has been a while. My first took what he wanted and left. I don't blame him because he didn't know better but it wasn't a wonderful experience."

 "And now?" He couldn't help but ask.

"What do you think?" Her voice trembled and broke. "Your fingers feel so good inside me."

He couldn't help but groan in response. She had been frank and quick to speak her thoughts when they had first met at the wedding party but he hadn't expected the same in the bedroom.

She took a deep breath and said, "The next time I was with him I got on top of him and I didn't let him cum until I had twice. Some people need to be taught. But you-" She gasped and shivered. "You know exactly what to do."

Indeed, he did. Then again, she was curiously receptive and sensitive to his touch. Perhaps the dark made it better when she couldn't see him and his mangled, scarred skin. She came hard against his hand, squeezing around his fingers as she made a small sobbing sound and fell against his chest.

"Are you all right?" His free hand stroked her hair and he licked his fingers clean, shivering at the pure sensuality of her taste.

"That was amazing," she hummed. "You were very patient."

 "I don't see what you mean," he replied, freezing up when she shuffled herself down his legs and seized his cock which still throbbed.

The heat returned with vengeance and he heaved himself up on his elbows, peering down at her.

"You mustn't force yourself," he muttered. "I can take care of myself."

"Nonsense. Let me repay the favor," she said, tugging on the band of his pants.

He lifted his hips for her and she pulled them off, running her hands over his scarred thighs. Her hands quickly found his cock, almost like she was impatient to hold it in her hand.

"Now this is a prize," she murmured, rubbing her thumb over his slit, which leaked a rather copious amount of pre-cum over her fingers.

"Are you always this virile?" She giggled.

His breath caught in his throat and blocked whatever he wanted to say. He was already so worked up that it wouldn't take much to get him to explode. The pace she set was edging him and he was far too wound up to tolerate it. He put his hand around hers and increased the pace, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"You're so handsome like that," she murmured. "I can't believe I get to have you."

"Shut up," he hissed but she paid him no mind.

"I'll get you to believe me eventually," she said in determination.

His response came in shambles as she brushed his hand away and leaned over to kiss the tip of his cock. He tried to keep his noises to a minimum but couldn't help snarling like an animal as she took more of him into her mouth. He clutched at the pillow to keep from clutching at her hair instead. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting his cock into her warm, wet mouth. She mumbled unintelligible words but they sounded encouraging.

"Fuck," he rasped and his hand came down to rest on her head, pushing her further down on him until she choked on his length. "Stop," he hissed, battling against his desires. "Stop, damn it."

She lifted long enough to catch her breath and utter an imperious "no" before she wrapped her lips around him again. He couldn't help himself anymore and came, spilling in her mouth. She swallowed and licked him clean, humming contentedly. His chest heaved as he struggled to calm his racing heart. She giggled and tucked her body against him.

"That was perfect," she said.

He grunted and held her close, breathing in her scent. He slept deeply this time, deep enough that she could take up the jewel-encrusted dagger that she had hidden behind the lamp on the side table. He had been so suspicious of her and he'd be furious if he found it but she didn't care, because that dagger was not for him. He was hers now and she had no intention of hurting him in any way. People had already done plenty of that.

When he woke up, it was so sunlight creeping in through the blinds to warm his naked skin. He sat up, combing his hands through his tangled hair. The space beside him was empty. He stared for a long time and sighed. So, she had decided to leave after all. This was another thing he was used to; his brides escaping into the forest around his house and getting lost. He would always retrieve them and bandage any wounds they had gotten and send them back to their homes and return to his alone.

How many more marriages would he endure in this fashion? He stood and dressed briskly and went straight down to the stables to saddle a horse and go after his bride. The stable hand, a usually quiet lad, was unusually talkative. But he wasn't in the mood for conversation and held up a hand to silence him. As soon as he was in the saddle, he cantered off into the forest.

Three hours later he returned in defeat, sweaty and pissed. It wasn't often that they went far enough that he couldn't find them. Or worse, they had already been attacked by a wild animal. But he had found no traces of blood so he could only assume that she had found her way out of the forest by herself. He stormed into the house, snapping for a maid to heat water for him to bathe.

He yanked his jacket off, trying to suppress the urge to put holes in the wall.

"So, you do care about me," someone said softly.

His head jerked up. There was his bride, unharmed, wearing his robe. She had never left. Suddenly, he realized that must have been what the stable hand was trying to tell him. He felt a little foolish and simply stood and stared at her, confused.

 "Why are you still here?" He asked roughly.

"I mean to stay," she said, stepping forward and slipping her arms around him in an embrace. "You need a bath and your hair is a mess. Come, I'll help you."

He followed her quietly, contemplating the warmth blooming in his heart. It was a foreign feeling he did not yet know, but he would soon learn that it was called love.

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

    “Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

   You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)

technically not your ex!isagi the boyfie that you are...

everybody put on your delulu caps

imagine dating isagi in like middle school/ early high school. he's the prototypical My First Boyfriend, i don't make the rules ok? he asks you out with all of his (and your) friends watching during lunch time and when you say yes, he asks for permission to hold your hand

he texts you good morning and good night every day and you guys hold pinkies during class. he tries (and often fails) to win you stuffies at the claw machine when you go out to the arcade after school, and you tutor him in geometry bc he doesn't understand why they put letters in math. he's your first kiss, and all your friends tease you about him at the cafeteria during lunchtime.

then one day, he loses a soccer game. it's his last chance at nationals, and you're almost as crushed as he is. you lose sight of him when the team leaves the field, and he doesn't respond to any of your texts or calls. he stops coming to school after that day. you're too shy to ask his parents where he is (you're not even sure if he told them the two of you were dating)

eventually, you give up on contacting him and move on. you spend the rest of your high school years focusing on your studies, trying to get into a good school for college. your hard work pays off and you spend the rest of the summer celebrating with your friends. one night at a sleepover, your best friend curls up in your bed (a little tipsy) and decides to google the boy who ghosted you. you're a little surprised to find out he somehow became a pro athlete, but you got into a prestigious university so hey, dreams do come true booboo

you really don't think much of it, and put it out of your mind to focus on making plans for your upcoming beach vacation. you and your friends spend a chaotic week and a half in tokyo and another weekend in kamakura. you have the time of your life, and gorge yourself on fancy yakiniku and ice cream in every flavor imaginable before you have to go home to pack for school.

and then The Funniest Thing Happens

you come home, sunburnt and sore. you head straight to the nearest konbini for aloe vera gel and a canned coffee. and who the fuck do you see? i know you know.

it's him! isagi Mother Fucking yoichi. after your initial shock, you give him a suspicious once over and why? WHY? is he still wearing the same stupid little twine friendship bracelet you'd made him for your 100-day anniversary?

you're so occupied with delivering your best incredulous stare that you don't even notice bachira stepping out of the shop to stand alongside him.

"oh hey! are you a fan?" you feel yourself starting to get hot under the collar because you might actually be the opposite...

you're still trying to find an appropriately indignant response when isagi answers for you

"oh well, uh we dated when we were younger..."

bachira picks up the end of the sentence seamlessly, equal parts eccentric and presumptuous "ohhh, exes huh?"

and isagi winces at the wording. "well, i mean technically we never formally broke up"

your head is cocked all the way to the side at this point because the audacity?? well it has you gobsmacked. struck dumb, even.

and all the while he's scratching the back of his neck like this is all some charming meet cute and you're FUMING because now his friend is shaking your hand and asking for your phone number so the three of you can hang out together during the football off season and you're a nice normal person who has a sense of propriety and this Very Odd Pro Athlete has already sent you a link to the restaurant they're going to tonight and obviously he's paying for your meal so he can hear more about isagi's high school sweetheart that he talks about so much!! because HE STILL TALKS ABOUT YOU??

and oughoughough it's too much for me i'll die actually