#but yeah at least that would explain the constant bruises

[spooky-kakashi]

i think brucie wayne should do boxing but absolutely suck at it, he should be getting his ass kicked every fortnight and when they ask why keeps doing it wventho he sucks at it so much he says that he wanta to be like the batman

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

[randomfandomlov3]

Price of love (Chapter 4)

Warnings: Angst. Talk of injury. Crying. Torture mentioned. Talk of needles (indirect). Let me know if I missed any.

Note: I got the inspiration for the one section from this quote from Friends. You can listen to the poem about being the moon, Here. Thank you for reading <3

Word Count ~ 3903

You got back to the headquarters and helped those who care for the dead get them off the jet. While there were less than expected, it still hurt. You were then tasked with giving your debrief to Fury. You entered his office and went to start rambling. "Agent, are you alright? You are really pale. Did you go get checked out at the med bay first?"

You bowed your head. "I can't go to the complex; I am an embarrassment."

He sighed tapping his pen. "I will get Helen to come to your apartment at headquarters if you promise to follow what she says to do."

Your eyes went wide with shock. "Thank you so much." You felt great appreciation for Fury, and he was always so accommodating. You gave him a short-winded version of the mission before heading to that apartment. While waiting for Helen to show up you got a large plastic tablecloth and laid it across the couch and onto the floor so that the blood would be an easy cleanup. You removed the top of your suit so that the wound could be got at easier.

The doorbell rang a little bit later and when you saw it was the doctor, you welcomed her in. Helen cut straight to the case and started to look at the gunshot wound. “There is no exit wound which means that the bullet is still inside of you. I need to get you to a facility where we can do an x-ray and probably surgery. There is a med bay in this building that is capable of those things if you would feel more comfortable.”

You nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

After the surgery and you came to, Dr. Cho allowed you to head back to your apartment to heal. With strict instructions take your antibiotics and constant rest for 1 week. You were to have anything you needed, delivered to the apartment and were not to leave. “Okay.” You swallowed thickly; how would you explain this? And to whom? Bucky was only into you for money, and Nat was in on it. “Sam.” You whispered to yourself. He had seemed just as betrayed as you had when he was told the news.

You pulled out your phone and dialled Sam’s number. “Hey Sunshine, how have you been I haven’t heard from you since before the mission.” You sighed at his cheerfulness. Maybe calling him was a mistake. “Is something wrong?”

You hummed into the phone. “Could you come to apartment 24A in the SHIELD headquarters?”

Fear crept into his mind. “Yeah, I will be there in a few minutes. Is there anyone else I should bring?”

“No, and please don’t tell anyone where you are going.” You said goodbye and then hung up. Not even 20 minutes later there was a knock on your door. You got up to get it and peeked to see who it was. Careful not to jostle your left arm in its sling you opened the door to Sam. He went to hug you but stopped when he saw your sling. “How is everybody back at the compound?” You asked before he got a chance to question things.

“A couple of cuts and bruises here and there, but I think Bucky isn’t doing great mentally either. I am more concerned about you. We haven’t seen you since the battlefield, where we only saw you for a little bit. What are you doing here, and why is your arm in a sling?”

You welcomed him in so that you could explain better. Telling him to make himself at home you went to grab something. “I will be taking over a new team because I can’t be at the compound anymore. Do you think you could give this back to Bucky? I am sure he didn’t mean to give it to me.” It was a jacket that he had given you when it started to rain on one of your dates. “But as for the mission, I was saving someone’s life, and I got shot in the shoulder. I am just glad that they are okay. Now for the reason, I asked you here. I am not allowed to leave this apartment for at least a week, so I was hoping you would be able to help me out. And well, I don’t really have any friends right now so I was hoping we could keep in contact, because I will be lonely.”

He gently gave you a hug. “Of course, I don’t mind helping you out, and I would love to keep up contact. I think that Bucky is really upset about you leaving though.” You shake your head dismissively. “No really, you should have heard him get mad at Steve.”

Unbelieving swam in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Can you also promise me that no one will know about your visits here and that you have seen me at all?”

You could see that he was struggling with his thoughts, but he finally agreed. You sat there talking for a good while, and when Sam finally got up to leave, he accidentally left the jacket behind.

“So if you don’t mind me asking, who did you save from getting shot?” Sam prodded at your daily meeting. He didn’t have to come every day, you had told him so, but he insisted on making sure you knew that you weren’t alone.

“I feel like you already have a hunch at least. But it was Bucky.” You tried to whisper the last part.

He nodded as you had just confirmed his thoughts. “You know, he hasn’t been the same since you left before the mission. Like sure he has always been gloomy and a grump, but it is like he turned that dial up since then.”

Shame crossed your face as you thought about what you should do in a situation like this.

“Hey, he was a jerk with what he did, but I don’t think he was faking any of it. I’m not saying you have to get along, but you should at least come by the tower to let him know you are okay.”

Nodding your head you got up to look at the calendar. “Actually I will be coming by the tower when my rest order has been lifted. An antidote for the scentless fumes that were in the air of the hydra facility was developed and I have to help administer it because I was one of the only ones trained to.” You shrugged sitting back down.

“Wait, we were exposed to something?” Sam asked slightly panicked.

You gently rested your good hand on his arm. But you looked confused. “Yeah, did nobody tell you? It is entirely treatable, however, if left for 6 months to a year it could become fatal. Luckily, the cure was easy to figure out, at least for most people. Some people have to have some form of accommodation for it.” you explained hoping to ease some of his worries. You chatted a bit more, about your lives and the latest news from the Avengers.

As he was getting ready to leave, Sam said, "You know, you don't have to do this alone. If you ever need someone to talk to or someone to have your back, I'm here for you."

You smiled at him. "Thanks, Sam. That means a lot." 

You read through the process of administering the antidote again, just to make sure you knew exactly how to do it. A week after administering it to the general group, you would be helping to administer it to those who would need accommodations, including yourself, because you had to wait until you were off of your pain and antibiotic meds.

Helen came up to your apartment the day before you were scheduled to help at the tower. “You look like you are healing well, I am glad. Can I take a look at the wound?” You nodded moving your shirt from your shoulder. “It’s a little irritated but that is normal, especially with the kind of gauze you are using. I brought some really soft stuff to put on there, but I also recommend that you don’t wear anything too tight on your shoulder for the next while. Have you been following all my orders?”

You nodded explaining about Sam coming over and helping with things. Helen left with the suggestion that you get some sleep. You took her advice knowing that you would need your energy to deal with people tomorrow.

You got up the next day and got dressed, after changing the dressing on your wound with the soft gauze Helen left. You gathered your things and thoughts before heading down to the medical center in the building. You were instructed where the injections would take place, and that you would get a thirty-minute break for lunch.

When you got to the room that was set aside for administering the antidote, you noticed that a station was set up for you with the injections, and a machine to send the electrical shock. You made sure that everything you might’ve needed was there where you could find it, and then you took a seat. As you waited for the patients to show up you carefully stretched out your shoulder.

Sam entered with Bucky and Steve at his sides. He saw you and his face immediately lit up. He then came over leaving the other two confused to check on how you were doing.

“Still stiff, but healing. I’ve been told I’m a tough cookie.” You giggled at the words you had taken from a previous conversation with Sam. He gave you a gentle hug.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. “Since when are those two close?” Steve asked causing Bucky to shrug.

“Where has she been for the past week?” Bucky asked back, getting no response from his friend.

All of a sudden, they heard Natasha’s voice. “Is there a reason why you two are stopping anyone from entering?” They both realized they were standing right in the way and moved, but Nat froze when she saw you at your station.

You looked over to the door upon hearing her voice, and when you made eye contact you sent a soft smile to the three standing there staring. Sam felt for you, while he had never been in your place, he had felt the hurt radiating off of you and Bucky for the past week. “Are you ready for your shot?”

He glanced over at the rest of them before nodding and sitting in the chair in front of you. “I will be giving you the injection in your left arm and then I will turn the machine on that will give a small shock that shouldn’t hurt, this antidote works the best and spreads faster with electrical current. I will need your height and weight, to give the correct dosage, and not too big of a shock. If you don’t know it there is a station at the back of the room to check.” You explained running through the script you had been taught.

Sam smiled as he gave you his measurements and you got his dose and proper shock level. Once everything was ready and he gave the go ahead you gave him his injection and shock. The main thing he felt afterwards was a bit of tingling in his right arm where you administered the shock.

After his 15-minute wait period was up, everyone started to take other agents. Steve, Nat, and Bucky all came over to your station. You gave them polite smiles as Nat was the first to sit down you explained the procedure to her and got on with it, sending her over to one of the chairs, while you started with Steve. Having to take into consideration the serum coursing through his veins.

When he was done and sitting in one of the chairs off to the side Bucky tried to sit in the chair, but you just shook your head. “You will get this in a week, to accommodate for your differences.”

You said trying not to reveal why to the general public. “What do you mean my differences?”

You sighed. “You will get one that does not need to shock you because, the electricity will not be good for you, but don’t worry I will be getting mine then too.” You stated matter of factly. His confused look doesn’t fade as you take the next agent into your chair.

 “Weight and height please.” You said as you prep your instruments.

“Wow is he really that pathetic that he has to get an accommodation for this.” The agent laughed, really irritating you.

“Weight and height.” You demanded.

“You don’t need to know any of that just give me the shot.” You rolled your eyes at his disrespect and re-explained why you needed them. He gave you some numbers that you could tell were random numbers.

You gave him the shot and then administered the shock and he yelped. “You did this on purpose, bitch.”

You tried to remain calm with everyone staring at you. “It wouldn’t have hurt if you gave me proper measurements.” He continued to milk the shock for pity.

“You would not hold up under torture.” You said having had enough of him.

“Oh, what, and you would.”

“I did.” You snapped before getting up and leaving the room for your 30-minute break. You got to the nearest empty room and broke down. After a few minutes, the door to the room opened and Bucky carefully entered. You wiped your face to make it look like you were okay.

“Hey, are you okay?” He looked concerned causing you to scoff.

“Yeah, just peachy.” Trying to hold yourself together you looked at him. Your resolve quickly faded when you saw the sadness on his face. Without even thinking he rushed over to hold you. His comforting touch made you cry even harder.

“Shh, just breathe for me, Doll. I promise you never have to go through that again.” He cooed into your hair, thinking that you were upset about your time in torture. Now don’t get me wrong, that definitely was still something you struggled with but that’s not what was making you that upset.

“I knew better.” This really confused Bucky, but he continued to rub your back comfortingly. “I knew he gave me false information, and I knew it would hurt him. I’m no better than Her.” The her that you mention perplexed Bucky, but he knew the most important thing right now was to get you calm.

He squeezed you a little tighter but then he hears you whimper. “What’s wrong, Doll? Did I hurt you?” You shrugged, unsure of how to tell him. He released his tight hold on you, and you calmed down for the most part. The pain was rather centring.

The first thing you said confused Bucky. “One week from today will be your time for your antidote.”

He didn’t know why you were bringing that up now. “A little off-topic, but while we're on it do you mind me asking why you are having yours then too?”

You had hoped that he would pick up on that and you could use it to explain your injury, but now that he had you found yourself panicking. “That’s when I am off my antibiotics and pain meds, we don’t know how my body would react to all of them at the same time.” You nervously said as you wait for his reaction.

“What happened why are you on pain meds?” Bucky said in a frenzy.

You took off the sweater you had over top of your tank top to allow Bucky to see the gauze. When you looked down at it you realize it was time for you to change it. You headed over to your bag to grab the gauze and cream.

Bucky was following close, watching you carefully, concern coated his features. You sat on one of the tables so that you could rebandage the wound up. As you took the gauze off of your shoulder Bucky gasped.

He came closer to inspect. “What happened?”

You just shook your head, why did him worrying send butterflies through you? You were supposed to be mad at him. “I got shot a while back, but I couldn’t be around the tower recently, so I received treatment in my apartment.”

His heart dropped when he realized what you meant by not being able to be around the tower. “Look, Doll…”

You shook your head as you finished changing the gauze. “I’m sorry my break is up, but maybe we can talk later.” Putting your sweater back on and leaving the room you released a breath that you had been holding since he entered.

He followed back to the main room where Natasha asked you a question. “Are you okay, Лунный свет?”

You nodded getting back to your station. “Yep, I’m fine Natasha.”

Being called Natasha by you stung since you only used to call her Habiba, or rarely Natalia.

You got back to work as she went over to join Bucky who was still staring at you. “Is she okay?” Nat asked breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm, oh, no, but she doesn’t want to talk about it right now.” He mentioned not taking his eyes off of you. “Why do you call her moonlight?” Finally looking over at Nat, he asked.

A soft smile graced her face. “Well, to be honest, it is kinda complicated, but I will try my best to explain. She reflects light from around her, she isn’t always the source of her own and I think the most important part is that the sun has no choice but to shine, but she has fought through the darkness and still chooses to project the light. Despite what Steve said, she already knows that the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, probably better than most of the people here.” She glanced around the room at the agents.

“That’s a very poetic way to put it,” Bucky mentioned with a small smile.

“I saw a poem about being the moon online and it just fit her so perfectly,” Nat said with a laugh.

You heard Nat’s laugh for the first time in weeks, and it made your heart ache. When you glanced over it made you miss her more than the feeling of betrayal, which has mostly faded by now anyway.

Sam was still sitting over to the side, having not been informed that he could leave, and saw the forlorn look on your face. “Y/N?” He said getting your attention.

“What are you still doing here Sam?” Waving off your question he came closer to talk.

“Are you actually, okay? And I don’t just mean physically.”

You softly shook your head. “I miss how I felt before everything went down. I miss the feeling of laughing with my best friend. I miss feeling Bucky hug me even though he only did it a couple of times. I just miss the way things were.” Tears started to well in your eyes, as Sam pulled you into a hug.

“I know, but what if things can be like that again? I’m not saying whether they deserve it or not, that choice lies with you, but I want you to be happy.” You nodded thinking about what you wanted to do. You knew that things would never be one hundred percent the same as before but maybe they could be better than that, and if it failed you had a way out thanks to Fury.

After you finished for the day you texted Nat and asked if you two could meet somewhere. Natasha was excited that you had texted her first. She agreed and gave a location.

You headed there before you lost your nerve. “Hi. Look I want to apologize for going no contact for over a week.”

Natasha just smiled and shook her head. “I don’t blame you, I’m sorry you felt betrayed by me. I promise I told them that it was a bad idea.”

You held up your hand to stop her rambling. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about that. I just want us back the way we were before if that’s okay with you Habiba.” Nat nodded and gave you a big hug. She had been missing her best friend to do her usual after-mission activities.

Great, one down, one to go. You made plans to get coffee tomorrow, while you were both still free. Now what did you want from Bucky? Was Sam right in saying that he had been distraught since you left? Could you properly trust him again? Why did that have to be so hard? You decided that maybe the first step was to move back into the tower to see how things happened naturally. You headed back to the SHIELD headquarters to grab your suitcase to bring back to the tower.

When you got to what was your room, you saw someone walk out of it. An agent you didn’t know.

“Hi, can I help you?” She asked trying to be polite.

“Umm, no, I guess not.” You answered dejectedly. Maybe that was life’s cruel way of telling you that things weren’t going to work out.

While you were staring at the wall, Bucky came by this floor. “Hey, doll, are you okay?” Butterflies filled your stomach at the nickname.

You shook your head. “It’s been like what 2 weeks, and I don’t have a room here anymore.” Your voice was full of emotion that made his heartache.

“Didn’t Tony tell you that you have a new room that is on the floor with the rest of us Avengers?” That made no sense because you hadn’t been there in 2 weeks, how could Tony have known you would be coming back? “Here, let me show you.” He grabbed your bag and headed toward the elevator, as your cheeks dusted pink from his touch. The things he did to you.

You got to the elevator in awkward silence. “Look Doll, I want to apologize for not telling Steve off sooner. I miss you so much. You are worth so much more to me than any money.” You tried to believe what he was telling you but at the same time, you were not sure if you could trust him again. The elevator stopped on a floor too early for you to get off. The doors opened to reveal Steve, who was standing there a little bit awkwardly. You could feel the tension when he got on the elevator.

After you went your separate ways, you turned to Bucky. “Don’t stay mad at him too long. I know what it’s like to miss your best friend.”

Bucky hummed taking your words into consideration. “Here we are.” He mentioned when you stopped outside of the room that would now be yours. Setting your bag down he gave you a nod before heading on his way to not overstep.

Taking your bag into your room, you sat it down by the dresser before sitting on your bed even more confused than when you began. “Maybe Sam was telling the truth.” You thought to yourself as you got up to start to unpack.

Chapter 5

[creativesnek]

Going Against the Current: Chapter 1

  Flicking through pages, the Koopa King scrolled through a large leatherbound book with a broad smile. Pictures of flowers, banquet menus, location brochures, and other miscellaneous objects. This may as well be the most guarded document in his office; after all, it holds all the details for his and Luigi’s wedding!

            It felt like only yesterday that the two started dating. Six years ago, Bowser realized he couldn't keep doing this. He couldn’t continue this life of villainy and kidnapping. He was missing out on his kids’ lives, his citizens were losing respect for him, and the constant defeat just kept making his mental health worse and worse. After failing to wed Peach in the Moon Kingdom, Bowser got stuck there for a little while (his warship suffered from an engine malfunction) and during his brief exile, he stopped for once in his life to think.

           The Mushroom Kingdom may have resources, yeah, but… Bowser doesn’t really need them, his home country is quite sufficient. None of the other kingdoms and nations want anything to do with him because of his behavior, which was once again for a useless reason: he doesn’t like Peach. Well, not romantically at least; don’t get him wrong, Princess Toadstool seems like a lovely lady, and Mario’s one lucky bastard to have her. But, on that lunar surface, he realized he went off the deep end over a crush, a half-baked attraction towards her.

           Bowser has some experience in the romance department (otherwise, how would Junior have come to be?) but… shit happened. Things didn’t go well, a divorce occurred and ever since then, the king has just been afraid to date again. And then he saw Peach and half-assed courted her like an idiot; ego bruised by her well-deserved rejection birthed the familiar villainous routine of today. After pondering all of this, Bowser decided to call it quits. He returned to the Darklands and focused on what he should be doing: taking care of his kingdom and his kids. After several months of peace, Bowser started feeling better. He was actually there for his kids and all their craziness, his kingdom was relieved to have their king again. Hell, he even started hitting the gym properly again and got himself a much-needed hobby.

          And then Luigi came in. Due to his inactivity, Peach became concerned (read: suspicious) and sent the little man to investigate; she didn’t send Mario because he was helping out with an oil spill in Lake Lapcat. Bowser vividly remembers he was sitting in his throne room, listening to a citizen’s grievances when suddenly a guard burst in with Luigi in a floating cage. The king visibly panicked and ordered his immediate release; after clearing out the confusion, the human in green explained his intentions. While he was a little hurt, Bowser understood where Peach was coming from and subsequently told him that he was done. No more kidnappings, no more elaborate schemes. He just wants to be a good father and a good king.

         Most shocking of all? Luigi believed him without hesitation. His eyes had glimmered with joy and pride like he knew Bowser would someday come around and redeem himself; the reaction was refreshing, to put it mildly. Armed with his response, Luigi respectfully exited his kingdom.

Then he kept coming back.

            At first, Bowser felt like they appointed him as some parole officer, periodically coming in to make sure he was actually staying out of trouble. However, every time Luigi visited, he revealed it was out of his own volition; in fact, Mario and the princess had no idea this was happening. He’d bring homemade snacks and talk to him during his breaks; the Koopa King learned a lot about Luigi. He has a passion for cooking and embroidery; despite his naturally anxious nature, he seemed to enjoy his company. And hey, someone who can kick King Boo’s ass was someone deserving of being his friend in his book! It didn’t take long for the king to realize how charming and heartwarming Luigi was and soon enough, Bowser was whipped. And being the boisterous creature he is, he made it blatantly obvious.

            He started out small, gave a compliment here, perhaps reached for his hand there; he was being cautious, he was heartbroken once after all. Bowser would gladly welcome him into his home, practically letting him roam free. He slowly opened himself up to Luigi, indulging him with information he hasn’t really shared with anyone. How he was basically given the throne after his parents were overthrown, how he’s trying to be a better ruler and father for his kids’ sake. When he told Luigi about his turbulent, short-lived marriage, the human hugged him without hesitation, sensing his distress. The understanding, the care for him… It fueled Bowser’s determination to court the human and do so properly.

He’d make or buy Luigi gifts and compliment him.

Bowser gave him special privileges and sometimes took him on “diplomatic” trips to other kingdoms as his ambassador.

            At first, the Italian seemed oblivious, which gave the mighty king deep bouts of anxiety. His kids knew he liked him (correction: the whole castle knew about his feelings) and even placed bets on who would confess first. However, one day, after 2 months of flirting with him, Luigi basically stormed through the castle and into his bedchambers, still dressed in his pajamas and his ghost dog hot on his heels.

“You’ve been flirting with me, haven’t you…”

Gods, he loves this man, but he can be so dense sometimes…

And he still remembers his half-asleep response. 

“Ye.”

            Luigi looked like his brain fried. He stood there for what felt like an eternity; Bowser had even fallen back asleep while sitting, waiting for his response. He was startled-awake when Luigi tackled-hugged him and pretty much confessed while in his arms. The Koopa’s tail had wagged so much, it sounded like a rotor. And waking up with his love in his arms the morning after was the best feeling in the world.

            Maneuvering their relationship took time and finesse since there were some issues. For one, they had previously been enemies and, even though his beef was mainly with Mario, people would be disapproving of their relationship; so, they kept it secret for a while. It was challenging, especially for Bowser since he just wanted to pick up Luigi and shout to the world that this was his boyfriend.

Another problem was their physical differences. Bowser never felt more aware of his size than when he started dating Luigi; after all, he was a full three feet taller, a mountain of muscle and sharp teeth. The royal suddenly became afraid of even holding Luigi’s hand for fear of crushing him. It got to the point that the touch-starved pistachio grabbed his face one day and, in a rather terrifying yet weirdly titillating voice, said. 

“Hug me. Cuddle with me. Hell, PLEASE carry me! Just- anything!”

            Learning to communicate and safely show affection was nerve-wracking but rewarding in the end. Luigi grew accustomed to co-parenting rather quickly; although, Bowser doesn’t know how since he went from having 0 to 8 kids at once. Nevertheless, he did. The castle staff adored his company and treated him like a king. And just like that, six years passed. The two were in a deeply committed relationship and went public roughly four years ago; there was a bit of backlash but that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how accepting Mario was of them.

“Who wouldn’t fall for my bro?” he said while chuckling. “He’s happy, right? Why wouldn’t I support that? Plus, it means no more kidnapping of my amore.”

            Bowser chuckled at the memories and softly closed the book. He’s been planning the proposal but every time he looked at the wedding plans, something felt off. Incomplete. It wasn’t the most extravagant wedding in the world since he wanted to respect Luigi’s more modest and quiet nature, but something told him that wasn’t the issue. The theme was perfect, he picked L’s favorite flowers and planned on the event taking place right here in the capital. He mulled over the details over and over again, but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. 

            Sighing, the king slowed up and exited his office. As he traversed the lava-lit halls of his castle, he listened to the sound of life. Servants scampered around the corridors, keeping up the palace’s appearance; he could hear the chefs working in the kitchen, and the scent of warm meals floated in the air. Moving on, he entered the castle’s living spaces and made a beeline for Luigi’s room, tail wagging. The king approached the door and slightly opened it.

            Luigi was seated at his desk, working a piece of fabric through a sewing machine. Fully engrossed in his work, he failed to notice his royal boyfriend. Spools of fabric lined the walls, along with mannequins of all shapes and sizes. Racks of finished projects stood neatly in the corner. With a flourish of the wrist, the dashing Italian removed the fabric from the sewing machine and smiled at his work; a shimmering navy blue skirt with silver lining. Luigi softly rubbed the fabric, then placed it on one of the racks. 

            Bower rapped his knuckle on the door, making his presence known. Luigi looked up and smiled at him, waving him to come inside. The king obliged, cautiously stepping inside and ensuring his spikes were far away from the delicate material; he was not going to ruin his beloved’s work. Gently wrapping a hand on his hip, he pulled himself closer to Luigi. “Hi.”

“Ciao, amore. Haven’t seen you since lunch; is everything okay?”

Bowser nuzzled against him. “Yeah, a few of my minions needed help with something.”

            Convinced by his response, the little man in green reached up and scratched his chin; the king purred at his touch. It’s astonishing how this human can cause the Great Demon King to melt at his touch. Bowser would do anything for his husband-to-be; it could be something as simple as his own sewing room to his own galaxy. No matter what, he will make him happy. 

Because in his eyes, Luigi deserves the world. 

“What’s that for?” he asked between purrs and gesturing at the skirt. 

            Luigi pulled his hand away (much to his disappointment) and reached for it. Upon analyzing the piece of clothing, Bowser realized the sparkles resembled stars. Luigi dusted it off, “Rosalina commissioned this. She said she needed it for some event that’s coming up,” he replied. Bowser struggled to keep his face neutral.

So, she finally got my letter…

            Geez, getting in contact with the celestial sorceress had been an absolute nightmare, even more so because he had to be discreet. It was also very awkward considering the chaos he caused a few years ago with the whole “make his own galaxy” scheme. Bowser looked at the other outfits, “Are you planning on wearing some of these? They look amazing!” His significant other blushed at his comment.

“I’m thinking about it. But there’s been a lot of eyes on me lately…”

            Bowser frowned slightly. While he was completely comfortable with Luigi wearing dresses, he knew the public would not be so kind. It saddened and angered him that his partner could not express himself as freely as he should be able to. The castle staff were okay with this and made sure to keep this a secret at Luigi’s request, but that’s as public as he was comfortable going. Bowser isn’t even sure if Mario knows about this, and that’s his twin brother! He knows Red enough to know he wouldn’t be judgemental, but Luigi was still apprehensive. 

            A small knot of guilt formed in his chest. Citizens have been anxiously awaiting the day the two finally tie the knot. And as the king’s consort, eyes are going to be on him, searching for even the slightest hint of an engagement. Bowser felt responsible for all that; he knows Luigi was not a fan of the publicity. And his bravery can only stretch so far…

Wait.

            The Koopa King looked at the articles of clothing, very delicately touching them as he began to think. Luigi was brave, there was no doubt about it. But it depended on the situation. Fighting against boos was drastically different from challenging societal norms. However, Bowser’s form of bravery was consistent across the board. He could give two shits about what society thought of him; he only cared about what his family thought of him. Everyone else? Only enough that his kingdom can stay afloat. Does this attitude bite him in the ass sometimes? Most definitely. But, for what he has planned, it might work out just fine. 

And without skipping a beat, he turned to Luigi. “Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Luigi put a hand on his chest, “Of course!”

“I want you to make me a dress.”

[wolven91]

The Start of a Short Friendship

"Alert, Oxygen depleted, time until asphyxiation; T-Minus 30 minutes." the serious sounding lady intoned for the third time. An automated warning obviously, but at this point, for two remaining lifeforms aboard, there wasn't much they could do to prevent the inevitable. The ship was spiraling madly and the only other ship in the area was just about to slam into the side of the star in the centre of the system. 

Neither would have to worry about suffocating though, not if they didn't kill each other first. The honourable Brutix and the tricksy human sat either side of the connecting corridor. First one to pop their head out would get it blown off or they could wait 30 minutes and the issue would be resolved either way.

Brutix, the mighty taurian mercenary, heard a lighter click on, an inhale, and click off. Said lighter suddenly slid to a stop next to Brutix's wounded leg, a small metal case containing a single smokable stimulant, mildly bent, followed shortly after.

"So... we're dead." Came the calm voice from the other side of the corridor. This human was tricky, she had avoided dying whereas anyone else the Brutix had hunted for this long would have been long since dead and buried. The mercenary had heard of humans, everyone had, it was her first time hunting one however. She had been led to believe the shorter creatures weren’t a threat. She had been lied to. 

"..It... would seem so, Human..." she begrudgingly agreed. "Do not take that fact as weakness or mercy, show yourself and I will end you just the same." The warrior promised, thumbing her pistol, ready to thrust it at the first glimpse of the human’s head. 

"Nah, wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction, we can just continue this brawl in the next life." Called the voice with a hint of mirth. 

"I will destr-… Next life?" The burly Brutix blinked, for the first time even considering that this life was perhaps not the only life. Taurians did not have a religion that all could call a ‘religion’’. Cults, and superstitions, perhaps, but this was the first mention of another life. Another chance to fight and kill and bleed as she had enjoyed in her years leading up to this moment? She enjoyed that idea.

"Oh yeah, I'm not letting you off that easily. But honestly, I'd rather team up to kick the shit out of whatever fucked up God brought about this whole mess." The jovial voice echoed from where the Human remained. Her tone carried more weight than it should have. She wasn’t bitter about Brutix, she was mad at this ‘god’ for another reason. 

Humans had suffered. Whilst the rumours and tales often varied, what was constant was that humans had been battered, bruised and shredded from one side of The Spiral to the other. The taurian didn’t care about the alien’s woes however.

"...there's a creature that lives in the after-death? Human; explain!"

"Maybe, let’s say we killed each other today, by gun or choking to death, but afterwards; wherever we end up, we'll call a truce. I mean, if we killed each other, your honour and contract on me is complete right? If you're dead, who’s going to send you any other honour killings? Let's merc’ the fucker that believe themselves above all this!" The human declared, igniting the mercenary’s blood. 

The Brutix thought for a moment, she'd always enjoyed killing the more powerful or at least those who thought them more powerful. This human may have got her into a stalemate, but that was not because she was stronger than the powerful hunter, it was just because the Human was tricksy.

"I like the idea of killing a God." Brutix admitted, sitting down and plucking the stimulant from it’s care to observe it. 

"Might be more than one..."

Brutix glanced up the hallway. 

"..What?"

"There’s whole pantheons girl! And from the stories, the Gods range from giant arseholes who deserve death to those who would welcome you because you had the tits to even try to kill the Gods!" The human said, laughing. 

Brutix picked up the lighter, placed the stimulant into her toothy maw and lit it, pulling in the poisonous smoke. It was… enjoyable. 

A new life with worthy opponents alongside a worthy ally?

Enjoying the headrush of the stimulant she leaned her head back against the bulkhead, her horns clanging against the metal. She sat for a moment and considered before opening her eyes, looking over the pistol and the gently rising smoke.

"Tell me about one that deserves to die." She asked the human.

"Aww man, let me tell you about this guy called Zeus. Dude could not keep it in his pants to save his life..."

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

HELP !!!! I've been struck by the image of enemies to lovers w bkg where u get injured and he has to patch up the wound and to distract you from the pain he kisses you </3 OR THE OTHER WAY AROUND. this will be my before bed scenario

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, mild angst.

✮ wc ; 1.2k

It's safe to say you don't get along.

You rarely do. Oil and water, fire and ice - all kinds of things. You bicker, constantly. And have the time Bakugou is holding something over your head, half the time you're screwing with each other. Arguing in elevators over patrol shifts and who's the best. Who'll be number one next week. It's a constant these days.

He can't stand you, he tells you at least once a week. A snarl in his throat as he has you close to the wall

"Y'know I fuckin' hate you right?"

Right. Of course he does. You know that. You hate each other and by now it's old news.

But you work well together and that's why you went on this misison. What was supposed to be a sting operation turned to a full out brawl and now you're here - in the back of a beat up van with a wound that has you dry-heaving. You're bleeding and light-headed, a crust of dried blood and bruised lips. You feel like you've been hit by something heavy.

Ah, you remember now. It was Bakugou who you jumped for, in front of the strike of a villain with a knife-like quirk. You remember but your heads still heavy and your eyelids are swollen from taking the fall. You don't know what happened after, or when they found you.

When you open them to look... he's right there above you.

He looks beat up, you think. You probably look worse but there's a cut on his lip and blood on his forehead. He looks bad and you wanna ask him if he's okay. You need to know if he's okay.

There's a hand on your skin, it's his. Big and strong, but gentle. You can feel all of his scars as he holds your cheek. Your body is laid over his lap and his thighs are underneath you like he's holding you with his whole body.

"Fuck.. fuck you're awake," and he sounds like he might cry. You wonder if he'd be sad if you died. You thought you hated each other. You're supposed to anyways.

"Y-yeah," ― you manage, voice weak ― "How long was I out?"

His voice is so soft when he speaks to you, you almost don't hear it.

"About 'n hour," he tells you. You want to close your eyes, they're tired. But you want to look at him more, a little longer like this. He's so pretty, have you told him that? You're so exhausted but you think you should.

"It hurts," ― you say first, like you should get it out of the way ― "You look pretty,"

He only frowns at you. He's not angry at you, you can tell. You always know when he is but his bottom lip quivers anyways like all the rage inside of him is in his mouth. Maybe he keeps his anger in his throat so he can always reach it just incase.

"Why did you.. why did you fuckin' do that," ― and he sobs. It's an ugly sound and it makes you smile ― "Why the hell would you do that for me?"

You're too tired to smile properly but you try for him. You're always trying for him.

"I dunno," ― you tell him, wincing at the pain when you move ― "Just felt like it, I guess,"

He sobs again and it's still ugly but this time it makes your heart race. This time he pulls you into his body and hugs you like he is trying to memorize the sound of your heartbeat. As if he's worried he'll forget the sound

"I fuckin' hate you," he says and he doesn't mean it but how else does he explain these feelings to you? How can he tell you he loves you like this?

You smile again.

"I know,"

"Y-you're still," ― he gasps like he's drowning ― "Still bleeding and I need to clean the wound. Need to wrap it but it's gonna hurt,"

You squint a little, confused.

"So?"

"I don't w-want to hurt you anymore, dammit,"

You think the weight of his words are so heavy they could sink to the bottom of the ocean. You think you love him and you hate him and you're not sure which one makes you ache less. You think that you don't want to ever hurt him either.

"I'll be fine," you try to assure but he shakes his head. He closes his eyes, brow furrowd and jaw feather and some of his tears drop onto your cheek when he presses his forehead against yours.

"No, fuck - I can't,"

You give him a look, then a gentle laugh.

"Kiss me then," ― you suggest half-hearted, as a joke more than anything ― "Distract me,"

You say it as a joke but he nods, swallows, and says okay. Your eyes widen but you can't protest, something cottony in your mouth. You watch as he reaches over and shuffles around in the first aid kit with gauze and a bottle of alcohol. You aren't worried about it hurting, your heart just happens to race.

He unscrews the alcohol and makes sure the gauze is easy to wrap. With an arm under your back and the bottle of your wound, he stares at you with eyes full of red. You blink at him.

"On the count of three,"

He looks at you like you make the world spin.

"Three,"

And you wonder what will happen when this is all over.

"Two,"

Why're you so nervous to kiss someone?

"One,"

Maybe it's because he's not just someone to you.

He crushes his lips to yours while he pours the alcohol over your wound. You can feel it clean, the way it runs down your clothes and bare torso and it hurts. It really does but you can't feel it at all because all you can feel is Bakugou.

All you can feel, and touch, and taste is Bakugou Katsuki right above you. He tastes like salty tears and lovesickness - something saccharine in how he kisses you so desperately. It's animal the way you crave it, that even with no strength in your body you kiss him like you're holding on for dear life. You don't think you've ever wanted something so badly so when he kisses you like he's crushing his lips with his, you let him.

And you let the little breathy moan escape your mouth when his hands shift and the hardest part of over but he still has to tape you up. You let him kiss you with tongue and teeth, over and over and over until your lips are sore from him and his saliva is mixed perfectly with yours. You kiss and kiss and kiss and you kiss some more when the wound is wrapped.

When you pull away, you're dazed, curling your fist weakly as you lay your hand on his chest.

"Again," ― he says, more seriously ― "Again, after all this over. I'll kiss you again. The right way,"

"I'll hold you to it, Dynamight,"

For the first time today, he smiles.

"I know you will,"

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[softbunnyboo]

I'm at work right now but the other day was shot day and I'm horny so fantasy time. I see a lot of post about glory holes where your lower half is out for people to fuck you and stuff but I want to make it comfy!

"Hello welcome to The Den, how may I help you?" The lady at the front desk asked.

"Its my first day working and I can't remember how to get back to the stalls. Could you show me the way?" I asked shifting from foot to foot.

"Oh of course hunny, just tell what your stall number is and I can guide you." She said kindly.

"Um its 38." I told her.

And with that she led me through the halls of the building. People were in various states of undress, some people making their way to the showers to clean up and others like me on their way to their stalls.

"Okay this is the side that you'll get in and get out. We have an attendant on the other side of the wall to help get your legs in the stirrups once you're settled. Now remember you can keep your top half clothed if you like and you can wear thigh highs if you have them but we don't recommend it incase a patron rips them on accident." The lady explained as I crawled into the big roomy box.

I'm glad I spent the extra time decking out my stall when I was in orientation. I put a few faux fur blankets on the bottom which could be heated if I chose and strung blue fairy lights on the top of the box.

I took my pants off, folding them and setting them aside. I left my bunny themed thigh highs on despite the warning. Then I took my fuzzy blanket from my bag and put it over the top half of me.

Once I was ready I stuck my bottom half through the hole. Someone on the other side gently guided my feet into the stirrups and locked them into place.

"Alright remember your call lights if you need them and we'll be doing checks every hour to see if you need to use the bathroom or if you need to stop and eat." The lady reminded me.

"Mm I feel like I could fall asleep like this." I giggled as I cuddled down into my bedding.

The lady let out a laugh, "Oh you won't be sleeping for long sweetie."

With that she left and closed the door to the stall. For a while I let my mind wander about the people who would be coming to fuck me. I had wrote down on my application that I was okay with any gender, but that I wasn't okay with straight men or lesbians due to the fact that I'm a trans man and it was just better to avoid any confusion or dysphoria that way.

It was probably another ten minutes when I felt a large hand on my ankle. I jumped at the sudden but gentle touch and whoever it was let out a raspy chuckle.

"You're pretty cute from the waist down aren't you bunny boy?" The man complimented as he ran his hands from my ankles to the tops of my thighs.

I couldn't help the little wiggle at hearing "bunny boy" I always loved being called that.

At my little butt wiggle the man chuckled again before touching my boycunt.

"Mm, gonna have to get you wet first bunny. Alpha here is a big man." He cooed in his deep voice as he stroked my dick.

I let out a soft moan as he touched and played with me. I started to get wet and hot so I bucked my hips, hoping he'd give me at least a finger.

"Yeah that feels nice don't it? Don't worry I'll give your little pussy something to clench down on." Alpha promised and sunk a finger into me.

"Ahh!" I gasped. It was one thing to feel his hands on me it was another to have them in me.

"Good little bunny. Alpha is gonna have fun playing with you." He groaned as he stroked my insides.

I whined as another finger entered me. This guy was the embodiment of my size kink and I knew he'd ruin me for any other cock.

This went on for a few more minutes until I had four large and long fingers pushing in my pussy.

"Please, need it now." I begged as Alpha fingered me.

"Shh little bunny. I think you're ready now." Alpha responded.

He slid his fingers out with a slick noise and took his other hand off my hip. I heard the sound of a zipper and I wiggled, my pussy clenching around nothing making me whine.

"You're so small bunny." Alpha purred as he set his dick on top of me. His balls rested against my pussy and the tip of his cock was right beneath my bellybutton.

"Please." I whimpered, I wanted that monster thing inside me.

"Be good little bunny." Alpha chided.

He put the tip against my opening and I let out a little purr, happy that I was finally gonna get what I wanted.

Alpha pushed inside and I almost wailed. My back arched and I clawed my blanket nest below me.

"Easy bunny. Alpha still hasn't gotten all the way in." He grunted, as he continued to push.

"Too big." I sobbed. This guy had to be the largest thing I've taken.

The man stopped at that causing me to whine.

"Do you want me to stop?" Alpha asked seriously.

"Noo! J-just so-so big!" I whimpered.

At this, Alpha growled and plunged the rest of the way in.

"Oh sweetheart, you're a size queen aren't you? Gettin' all hot and whiny for some big cock." He rumbled as he slowly pulled out.

"Hhnn! Alpha!" I panted. I could only focus on the feeling of his cock inside me.

I felt my eyes start to tear up with how amazing I felt. I sniffled and moaned in turns.

"Yeah that's right bunny, cry on Alpha's cock while I split your tiny pussy in two hunny." Alpha panted as he started to thrust harder.

My eyes rolled thinking of how hard my dick was and how bruised my cervix was gonna be at the end of this.

I wiggled as the man pounded my pussy, wanting him to stroke my dick as he did.

"Oh does bunny want me to play with his little cock while I pound his little cunny?" Alpha cooed, voice sickly sweet.

"Pleaase Alpha? Touch me?" I asked around a sob.

"Such a good bunny baby." Alpha praised and started touching my cock.

"Haa! Aaahhh! Close!" I cried, the tension in my tummy rising.

"Hold it bunny. Alpha's not ready to knot you yet." The man growled.

At this I moaned and clenched down, trying to hold my orgasm at bay. I knew in reality that this god like man didnt really have a knot on his cock but if he did I would worship it.

Alpha hissed and his hips stuttered in their rhythm.

"You cum with me or not at all little bunny. You hear me?" Alpha bit out.

"Yes!" I wailed, twisting my body as much as I could, feeling so overwhelmed.

A few more agonizing thrusts and a constant string of growls from the man inside, had me on the edge of loosing my mind.

"Cum." Alpha ordered.

Mind, body, and soul, I was helpless to do anything other than obey.

I let out a very loud screaming moan as I came and squirted on the man's cock.

Alpha made sound that hold me he was biting his fist so as not to shout.

His dick flooded my insides with sticky hot cum and I let out a gurgling sound as my body twitched with aftershocks.

The man panted for a minute before slowly pulling out of me, some weak sound leaving my mouth as he did.

"Thank you little bunny." The man said sincerely.

"You're welcome." I answered feeling tired.

I heard the man tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. I hummed andjust let my body relax after the pounding it just went through.

[violettelueur]

ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + INUMAKI TOGE || WITH A FLEXIBLE S/O

| featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and a lot of my side comments

| form : headcanons

| published : 29 november

| request : OMG I AM LITTERALLY SIMPING FOR YOUR WRITING LIKE HARDCORE, haha. anyways, if you can, can you do like a headcanon with megumi, toge, gojo and yuji where they find out reader is like scary flexible

| barista’s notes : hi hi! once again thank you all so much for the constant support that you guys have given me, it means the world to me ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ also thank you so much for loving my writings and i hope you love this one! I hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come back soon ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ 

ITADORI YUJI:

This man will be S H O C K E D and would probably scream.

He first found out this trait of yours was when Gojo instructed him and you to do some hand to hand/martial smarts combat for his secret training.

He really is surprised on how you are able to move your body in the most uncomfortable positions but still look so graceful while doing so.

On the low, he would probably try to do some of your stunts and would immediately fail - probably having back pains for at least a week or more.

This would cause him to whine and complain about his pain and would continuously ask you how you are able to bend your body the way that you can.

He would also complain about how you are able to avoid so many injuries since you can dodge many attacks.

“Babe! You can bend your body like crazy and dodge so many attacks, it’s crazy!”

“Yuji babe, you legit have superhuman strength and you’re complaining?”

To be honest, you and Itadori are the best fighting partners since your flexibility helped you reach high heights then the average person with your kicks and Yuji can concentrate on the lower body if he needed to.

You two were basically the perfect duo when it can to those situations - kind of like Itadori and Todo (if you have read the manga)

Sometimes, he would also ask you to help him with his flexibility to which you always wondered why, because he was already quite flexible himself - he just didn’t know it and he REALLY didn’t know to avoid injuries when needed.

But you couldn’t ever refuse because that might mean you would be spending more time with your boyfriend - he always made training sessions a little more fun with his witty comments and his clueless self.

Overall, expect to be asked a lot of questions and you telling him many many times not to try these movements himself because he would definitely injure himself in the process.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

Like Itadori, he himself would also be shocked but wouldn’t express it verbally - more like physically with his facial expression.

How he found out was when you were training with Maki using the wooden poles. Just as Maki was about to strike you with the end of the pole as you stood sideways after missing your previous attack, you were able to bend backwards extremely low before using your pole to sweep Maki’s feet causing her to fall down.

Obviously, Maki knew about this little advantage of yours but it seemed like your boyfriend didn’t - he would place his hand on his lower back and imagine the pain he would go through to do something like what you did.

He would get the shivers.

Sometimes he would ask you if you were in pain after you do one of your stunts and when you say you’re fine, Fushiguro is just in surprise.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” - he would say this when he would randomly massage your back to make sure you weren’t in pain (I just feel like his love language is acts of service you know)

“Mimi, I’m fine really, but thank you for the back massage,”

Of course, no matter how many times you say you’re fine, he would still be worried about - what happens if you break a bone? What happens if you strain something? What happens if you’re stuck in a position?”

Okay Fushiguro Megumi, stop right there…..

Sometimes when both of you are fighting a curse, he would be amazed on how you are able to dodge the many attacks and suddenly turn your body to processed with an attack - leading to his shikigami to defend him since he was slightly distracted.

This leads you to remind him to not get distracted at the beginning of every fight that both of you would get into with a curse.

“Mimi, concentrate on the curse and don’t focus on me okay?”

Overall, he would be worried most of the time - that’s because he cares about you - but is still amazed til this day on your flexibility - just a shocked little Mimi.

GOJO SATORU:

This man is not like Itadori or Fushiguro, no no no.

This man will test how far your body can go and he will have fun doing so.

Sometimes, he is even surprised at just how flexible you really are since he was quite fast with his attacks and for you to go extreme lengths just to dodge them makes him wonder how you haven’t broken a part of your body yet.

However, even with his knowledge, he would still try to see how far you could go - this cheeky little shi-

Sometime he would tease you with the most suggestive things during work and that would just cause many imagines to suddenly pop up in your mind - don’t matter when, to be honest, work, home, during missions, you name it

“I would how far your back can bend down to the bed when I-”

“Satoru if you don’t shut up, I will not hesitate to bend your back until your spine breaks~”

You know the stretches that he did before he fought Sukuna - yeah he got that from you when you explained to him that when you stretch before a fight, your body feels more relaxed and you can bend it in different ways.

But you don’t even have the slightest idea why he does it - you think it’s just to mock you and tease you. But for him, he actually listened to your idea and it really does help him

Let’s just say he’s so cheeky that you have no idea when he is being serious.

Overall, he would be interested in your flexibility, always making use of it for his entertainment and teasing you with jokes that are just appropriate for professional environments.

INUMAKI TOGE:

Inumaki would be surprised but somewhat worried about how your body is handling the constant twist and turns that you would do during training as well as battles.

He would constantly worry on the sidelines during your training session, but he knew that you weren’t harming yourself in any way

But he still was worried.

So at the end of your sessions, he would always ask if you were okay or rather ‘leaf mustard?’ before checking your body to see if there were any bruises from straining.

“Leaf Mustard?”

“Baby, I’m fine, I’m okay,”

But nonetheless, he will still check to make sure there were no physical injuries on you - you couldn’t stop him, so you just let him ease his worries.

Even though he seemed like a distant and quiet person, he was actually very caring and this makes you really love him even more than you already did.

During battles - like Itadori - you and Inumaki are really good partners since Inumaki can use his curse speech to freeze an opponent, leaving you time to attack them however you like before you need to re-treat when time is up.

Overall, expect a lot of worry and care from his boy as he really does care about you since you are technically pushing your body to do stunts that someone usually can’t do.

[thisissirius]

for @gracieli and the ladies of the discord *chef’s kiss*

i’ve only known you to keep your word buck/eddie, buck, eddie, chris, hurt/comfort, a little frottage, buck being lonely and eddie seeing and helping

Buck barely has time to sit down and attempt to handle the silence in his apartment when a key jams into the lock of his front door and it swings open.

Eddie comes into the apartment, two bags in hand, and beer in the other. “Get the door?”

Buck stares.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

When Eddie’s shut the door, Buck finds his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Bringing food,” Eddie says, and Buck hears the duh even if he doesn’t say it. “Not that I’m cooking it. You are.” He flashes a smile.

Buck snorts, moving past his confusion and grabbing for the beer. “Maybe I wanna watch you fail.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s your apartment. Also possibly your funeral.”

Saluting Eddie with his bottle, he goes to the cutlery drawer and grabs a bottle opener. “Why are you really here?”

There’s a long, drawn out silence where Eddie just stares at him. Buck feels uncomfortable under the scrutiny in ways he hasn’t before. It seems like ever since they came back from Texas, Eddie’s been—Buck doesn’t know how to explain it.

“Chris is at a sleepover,” Eddie says eventually. He makes a face. “You know how I feel about that.”

Buck does. Eddie’s only ever antsy and weird when Chris isn’t around. “Such a drama king,” he says.

“Whatever. We cooking or what?”

“Fine,” Buck says with a sigh, hip checking Eddie out of the way, ducking away from the elbow Eddie aims at his side. “Don’t beat up the person who’s saving you from food poisoning, Diaz.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, but he starts emptying out the bags. Spaghetti. He’s so transparent but Buck hides his smile by taking a pull of beer. Buck’s spaghetti is Christopher’s favourite and Buck’s got no doubts Eddie’s brought enough ingredients for extra portions. Something like happiness blossoms in Buck’s chest and he covers it with a knowing smirk.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” Eddie grouses. “You try telling Chris we had spaghetti and didn’t save him any.”

“No thanks,” Buck says immediately. “I do not court death.”

It makes Eddie laugh, which is Buck’s aim, after all, and he grins his way through the meal prep. _______

Later, stomach full and the happiness a comfortable constant, Buck is stretched out on the couch, another bottle of beer resting against his hip, one arm tucked under his head. He is super conscious of one of his legs resting over Eddie’s lap, Eddie’s fingers circling his ankle.

“I don’t understand why they don’t just talk to each other.”

Eddie gives him a look. “It’s a movie, Buck.”

“So?” Buck watches as neither of the characters communicate. Again. “How hard is it to talk about your feelings?”

There’s a pointed silence.

“Whatever,” Buck grouses. “We have notable trauma, they don’t.”

“Noticeable trauma,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow.

Buck kicks him with the leg that isn’t held hostage. “Be nice, Eddie, or you can go home.”

“You wouldn’t kick me out,” Eddie says with certainty.

Falling quiet, Buck turns back to the movie, but he’s not really watching it. Eddie’s not wrong. He wouldn’t kick Eddie out. Ever. Even in their worst moments, the only thing he wanted was for Eddie to come back, for them to be them again.

The movie finishes and Buck blinks. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. He removes his hands from Buck’s ankle. Buck can still feel the phantom heat of his fingers. “Come on, time for bed.”

Buck frowns. “I was comfortable.”

“And we can be comfortable upstairs,” Eddie says, once again with the duh unspoken. “Up, Buckley, let’s go.”

Buck feels a little adrift as they walk up to his bedroom. Honestly, he’s been feeling that way most of the night and he doesn’t know how to make sense of what he’s feeling. Leaning against the balcony railing, he watches Eddie root through his drawers, grabbing sleep clothes. “Eddie—“

“Wash up,” Eddie tells him, tossing over the clothes.

Though the fight is on the tip of his tongue, Buck keeps it to himself. He realises he doesn’t want to argue and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He stares at himself in the mirror. The silence that usually crowds him in the evenings he’s alone is absent and there’s comfort in Eddie being a yell away. He relaxes, washing up and getting changed.

When he comes out, Eddie moves past him, a hand brushing his hip and Buck shivers. The touch feels deliberate and Buck’s thrown back over the last couple of hours. Everything Eddie’s done is just what Buck needs. It overwhelms him and he sits on the edge of the bed, not sure what happens next. Will Eddie get blankets and go downstairs? Worse, will he want to share a bed? What if he wants to talk—

“Buck,” Eddie says gently, resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder making him jump. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Buck says, smiling softly. “Sorry.”

Eddie’s hand squeezes before it falls to his side. “Get in the bed.”

“Are you—”

“Come on,” Eddie says, and it could easily be an order, but for the tone. Buck doesn’t like being pushed around and it shows that Eddie knows that; he’s careful, gentle, and Buck nods, climbing into bed.

Buck rolls over, watches Eddie as he shuts off the light and charges his phone. Buck panics for a moment, before seeing his own on the nightstand. His heart picks up a beat, twop, and he’s holding his breath. Maybe if he doesn’t move this won’t stop being a dream. It still feels like one when Eddie reaches out, fingers sliding through the hair that’s soft against Buck’s forehead. “Sleep, Buck.”

Buck doesn’t know if he can.

“You save me from my nightmares,” Eddie says, with a self-deprecating smile.

I’ll save you from yours.

Buck closes his eyes and breathes out.

Buck’s not quite sure what to make of it..

_______

The next morning, Eddie burns breakfast (of course), abandons it (of course), and bundles himself and Buck in the truck to get breakfast—and to pick up Chris.

“Bucky!” Chris pokes his head into the car and grins.

Buck will never not love hanging out with Chris and he leans over the seat to give Chris a high five. “Sleepover okay?”

“Jamie’s got a hamster,” Chris starts.

“No,” Eddie says immediately, buckling his seatbelt.

Chris looks at Buck. Buck looks at Eddie.

“No,” Eddie says again.

Buck smiles at Chris and turns back around. They’ve got this.

_______

Two very full shifts later and Buck is sitting in the locker room, staring at his duffle. He doesn’t know if he’s got the energy to pack the rest of his shit in there and move, let alone drive home. His body aches, bruises starting to blossom from the fall he’d taken on a previous call, and he hisses as he stands.

The prospect of going home alone, tending to his hurts and sleeping in that bed all alone—Buck’s breath hitches and he closes his eyes, forehead pressed to the lockers.

There’s a rap on the glass and Buck whirls around, ready to put up the front, make out he’s okay, and deflates when he sees Eddie. Neither of them says anything for a moment, and then Eddie’s moving into the room, wordlessly packing the rest of Buck’s stuff into his bag. Buck doesn’t know where he gets his energy from. “Eddie.”

“You look like you’re gonna fall over,” Eddie says, frowning.

“Sorry,” Buck starts.

“Why?” Eddie looks up at him, surprised.

Buck sits on the bench again, cradling his ribs. They’re not broken, says Hen and Chim both, but they still hurt like a bitch. “Give me a minute and I’ll be good to go. You should go ome to Chris.”

“That’s not happening,” Eddie says. “I mean alone,” he amends, interpreting Buck’s expression correctly. “You’re coming with me.”

“Eddie—”

“Don’t argue with me.” Eddie straightens up, Buck’s bag on one shoulder, his on the other. “You alright to move?”

Buck nods, gives himself a minute to breathe in and out slowly, then pushes himself to his feet. He winces when his ribs twinge. “You can drop me off, it’s fine.”

Eddie stops them, hand on Buck’s arm. His thumb is resting against Buck’s pulse point and Buck wonders, a touch hysterically, if he can feel it racing. “You’re coming home with me,” he says again, gentler this time. “You’re always allowed to ask me for help.”

Breath catching in his throat, Buck doesn’t know how to answer that. Eddie swipes his thumb once across the skin of Buck’s wrist then lets go.

“I’ll tell Chris not to jump on you,” Eddie tells him as they head out of the station. “He’s still banned from video games, so you’ll have to entertain him some other way.”

“It’s not like we haven’t had to before,” Buck says, falling into the banter with ease. “At least this time it’s a deserved punishment and not his dad being a technophobe.”

Eddie glares at him over the top of the truck. “Hildy was watching me! She sees it all!”

Buck laughs, wincing as he slides into the passenger set, but the pain is worth it. Eddie helps with the seatbelt, which would be humiliating if Buck wasn’t used to this. “Does Chris know I’m coming?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, putting the truck in reverse. “Carla would kill me for one. Secondly, I’d hate to ruin the surprise.”

Eddie’s smile is fond and Buck can’t help but match it, relaxing back against the seat. He can’t wait to walk through that door and let Chris fill all the spaces that have grown in him since the last time. It always feels like coming home. Buck closes his eyes, pushes down the feeling. Chris isn’t his and he should remember that.

“You still with me?”

Buck opens his eyes, head turning to look at Eddie. Eddie spares him a glance, then looks back at the road. “I’m not gonna be good company,” he tries again. If he brings Chris and Eddie down with his mood, he’ll never forgive himself.

“You think I was after the well?” Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Please, Buck, we’ll ply you with painkillers, Chris can talk your ear off about whatever it is you two get excited about, then we’ll go to sleep. It’s not that hard.”

“I could have done that at home.”

“Yes,” Eddie allows, Buck fascinated with how soft his touch when the steering wheel slides through his fingers. Why is everything about Eddie so gentle? “But I’d rather you be somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”

The words signal exasperation, but the tone is fond, the smile on Eddie’s face soft. Buck so often feels like a burden but Eddie’s acting like he isn’t. That this is something he wants to do, help Buck and make him—

“Fuck.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, sounding worried. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Buck bites out, swiping at his face with the hand not pressed to his ribs. “Please keep driving.”

Eddie does, thankfully, and Buck grits his teeth against the urge to keep crying. “I’m sorry.”

It’s Buck’s turn to be confused. “Why?”

“If you’re crying because someone wants to take care of you, I’ve been a shitty best friend.”

_______

The words are still rattling around Buck’s head when it comes time for bed.

Chris is already tucked in, having dragged a story from both Buck and Eddie, and Eddie’s been putting stuff away in the kitchen, talking in low tones to Buck through the door. Buck’s been half paying attention, his mind still on the conversation in the car.

When Eddie steps back into the room, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans, he gives Buck a smile. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Toss some blankets, yeah?”

“As if,” Eddie says without hesitation. “No way are you taking the couch with those ribs.”

“Eddie,” Buck says. Eddie pauses at whatever he hears in Buck’s tone. Buck’s not sure how he sounds, barely knows how he feels. “What you said in the truck—”

There’s no judgement, no embarrassment. “Yeah?”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. “You haven’t been a shitty best friend.”

“I have,” Eddie presses. Then, with a sigh, “sometimes.”

“So have I.” Buck groans as he rights himself, grateful when Eddie holds out a hand and takes most of his weight to help him stand. “I don’t know how to accept it. Someone taking care of me.”

Eddie nods. Buck doesn’t know how he always gets it, how he knows Buck so well when Buck barely knows what’s happening inside of his own head. Eddie’s hands are on his hips and he tugs a little, careful so that Buck doesn’t stumble, and drags him into a hug. Buck lets out a shaky breath, turns his face into Eddie’s neck. The angle would be awkward but for his stoop and he lets himself take the comfort Eddie’s offering.

“I know,” Eddie says quietly, a kiss ghosting over Buck’s temple. “You will.”

_______

Over the following two days, Buck’s body mends and he’s able to move without wanting to punch himself in the face. He spends the time dicking around on his phone—having a photo off with Marjan about which one of them is more internet famous—and letting Chris talk him into playing almost his entire catalogue of video games.

Eddie’s a silent presence in the background. He disappears for work, leaving Carla in charge, and she spends most of the time feeding Buck, berating him for not looking after himself, and throwing him knowing looks. Buck doesn’t know what she’s getting at. When Eddie comes home, he manages to put together a good dinner (Buck finds the takeout containers in the trash), settle down with them in front of the TV and throw an arm over Buck’s shoulders, squeeze against him even when there’s space, and on the second night, when they’re an hour into the movie, Buck can feel Eddie’s fingers playing with his hair.

It startles him, but he does his best not to react. Relaxing back against Eddie’s arm, he catches the small quirk of a smile playing at Eddie’s mouth and complains about something in the movie. Chris interjects, Buck only tangentially paying attention, because Eddie’s fingers are scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Gross,” Eddie says, wrinkling his nose. Buck can agree; there’s way too much blood for a movie Chris can watch, but he doesn’t answer. He can feel himself relaxing further, embarrassed when he pushes into Eddie’s fingers. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. Except then, on the next pass, he scratches a little lighter. The sensation has Buck shivering and he swallows down the noise in his throat.

Reaching over, he rests a hand on Eddie’s leg and squeezes. Eddie looks at him, picking up on Buck’s silent cues, and nods. He keeps his hand in Buck’s hair, but contends himself with running his fingers through it instead of scratching. Buck breathes out, shaky, but doesn’t tense up again.

“Work tomorrow,” Eddie says, his voice pitched low. Chris is still watching the movie, working his way through a packet of candy Buck’s surprised Eddie let him have.

Buck nods. “Can’t wait. I feel like I’ve put on five pounds in two days.”

“Now who’s dramatic.” Eddie shakes his head. “Not that you’re wrong; Carla’s cooking does have that effect. So good.”

“Anyone’s would be,” Buck says, smirking, “compared to yours.”

Eddie glares, but he huffs, looking back at the TV. “Rude.”

“Not wrong,” Buck says lightly, sing-song, watching Chris out of the corner of his eye. Either Chris is doing a very good job of pointedly ignoring them (something he’s practised at), or they’re managing to keep their tone low. When Eddie doesn’t reply, he pouts. “I’m injured.”

“You were,” Eddie corrects, but he’s smiling. “All the rope rescues for you tomorrow.”

Buck pauses. “You’re not going to fight me for them?”

Looking nonchalant, Eddie shrugs. “Consider it a gift to you.”

You’re my gift.

The words get trapped somewhere in Buck’s throat. He can’t stop staring at Eddie. It almost feels like a relief when the movie finishes, and Eddie starts making noises about sleeping. Again, Buck finds himself being tugged in the direction of Eddie’s bed, even when the couch will suffice, but it feels not unlike the tsunami; Buck drowning, being pulled in different directions, but this time Eddie’s there; a guide, an anchor, when Buck feels most adrift.

_______

Days pass into weeks.

Buck’s in his truck, on the way back to his apartment, and he’s startled by the wrongness of it. He can’t remember the last time he spent the night in his own home. Turning into the parking lot, he sits behind the wheel, knuckles white as he grips it, staring at the window of his apartment.

Not that he wants to hang around Eddie like dead weight. He’d dashed out of the locker room, a yell over his shoulder that he was late to pick up Chris. Not that buck expects them to hang out after work or anything, but ever since—well, since Texas, Eddie’s not been far.

Angry at himself, he grabs his duffel from the back seat and heads into the apartment building, fighting the lead weight settling in his stomach. It’s his fucking home! Just because Eddie doesn’t mind him hanging out with him and Chris, Buck needs to get a grip. He’s not part of their family and he needs to stop. Maybe go out, find someone to—

His phone rings shrilly through his thoughts and he grabs it, answering it with a harsh, “What?”

A pause. “Where are you?”

“At my apartment,” Buck snaps. “You remember? That place I live.”

Eddie’s quiet on the other end of the phone and Buck grips the edge of the counter, closing his eyes, opening his mouth to apologise. Eddie talks first, his tone soft. “I remember.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck blurts out. He presses his hand to his eyes. “I think the shift must have got to me. “

“You sure you’re alright?”

No. Buck nods. “Yeah.”

A hum. Eddie’s voice is still quiet when he says, “alright. See you tomorrow.”

When the dial tone rings in his ear, Buck lets the phone slide out of his hands, hitting the counter and sliding away from him. Buck swallows once, twice, feels the burn of tears in his eyes. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t realise he’s slid down to the floor until he feels the cold beneath his butt, his head falling back to rest against the island. Time slides away from him and he breathes slowly, trying to focus on the here and now, even if it’s the last place he wants to be.

“Buck?”

Buck’s breathing sounds too loud.

“Head up, Buck, come on.”

Eddie, Buck’s brain helpfully supplies. He blinks, stares up into Eddie’s face.

“There you are,” Eddie says, voice soft. “You with me?”

“Eddie?” Buck says, his voice scratchy.

Eddie nods, his arms on Buck’s. He tugs gently, helping Buck up off the floor. Buck lets himself be led, unsurprised when Eddie pushes him down onto the couch. There’s a glass of water on the coffee table, a blanket against the arm.

Buck stares, wonders if there’s an echo when he says, “Eddie,” again.

“I’m here,” Eddie says, and Buck’s sure this isn’t real, that he’s gone mad. “Not mad,” Eddie says, “just lonely.”

The word catches in Buck’s ribcage, feels like a knife. “I don’t like being alone.”

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, turning sideways, knee pressed to Buck’s thigh. “I know.”

“I hate it,” Buck continues, staring around the room, at the cold whiteness of everything. He’s tried to make it a home, put stuff up, kept some of the drawings Chris does for him, photos hung on the walls. It doesn’t feel like anything. Not the way Eddie’s does when he walks through the door. The smell, the sounds, the comfort of Chris laughing, of Eddie grousing about something.

Buck’s chest feels tight.

“Buck,” Eddie says, his tone hard. “Look at me.”

Buck does.

“That’s it.” Eddie’s tone shifts back into soft and he reaches over, pulls Buck closer to him. Buck tenses up but Eddie doesn’t let go. He keeps talking, the words washing over Buck like a balm. “You never ask for help. I know I don’t either. We’ve both got—what did you call it, notable trauma?”

It’s funny, but Buck doesn’t laugh. He starts to relax, hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt.

“You’re lonely,” Eddie says, not that Buck needs the reminder. “But you’re not alone.”

Buck clenches his eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath.

“You hear me?” Eddie says again, burying his face in Buck’s hair. They shift around a little until it’s comfortable, Buck pressed against Eddie, the two of them stretched out on Buck’s couch.

“Chris,” Buck says, panicked. If Eddie’s here then who’s got Chris?

“He’s with Hen and Karen.” Eddie’s fingers are on the back of Buck’s neck, grounding him. “He’s safe.”

Okay. Chris is safe. Buck’s not alone.

“Eddie,” he says, hating himself for this weakness but unable to keep from saying, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, lets it out. He sounds wrecked. “I know. You’re not, I promise.”

Buck shakes his head. “I am. When you go home. When everyone—I’m alone. Abby left and Ali and I’m alone.” The word spill out of him, water running over him, drowning him, holding him fast. “My parents left me alone. Maddie. You.” Eddie’s breath hitches. “Why doesn’t anyone stay?”

Arms tightening, Eddie drags him up, mouth pressed to his forehead, breath hot against Buck’s face. “Not anymore, you understand me?”

Buck wants to believe it. Eddie’s been here, all this time, taking care of Buck. Dr. Copeland says he can accept it for what it is; Eddie caring. Buck wants to, but he doesn’t know how.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, watching him carefully.

“What is?”

“That you don’t believe me.” Eddie says it so matter of fact and though Buck wants to deny it, he can’t make himself say it. Eddie’s thumb rubs over his cheek. Is Buck crying again? “I’ll show you.”

Buck doesn’t know what that means. “How?”

“If you don’t wanna be alone,” Eddie starts, cuts himself off. There’s pink on his cheeks, determination in his expression. “My bed is cold without you.”

“Mine is too big,” Buck blurts out.

“Alright,” Eddie says, even though Buck doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. He curls into Eddie, emotionally wrung out, not sure where they go from here. Have they solved anything? Buck’s still going to be in this cold apartment and Eddie might want him around sometimes, but all the time? Buck doesn’t know if Eddie likes him enough to—

Fingers scratch against his scalp.

Buck lets out a soft noise.

“I wasn’t sure,” Eddie says, words drifting softly into Buck’s ear where Eddie’s lips are pressed. “But you asked me to stop.”

“I didn’t know,” Buck says, shaky, groaning when Eddie’s nails scrape down the nape of his neck. He gets a hand between Eddie’s back and the couch, curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. A henley. Yellow. Fuck, he looks so good.

Eddie whispers, “I know,” and adjusts his hips, slides further back and oh. Buck rocks his hips up, a little out of it because this is Eddie, and they’re on his couch, and he’s, he’s chasing— “That’s it.”

There’s a counterpoint; Eddie’s fingers in his hair, against his scalp, and his hips, the thick curve of his dick pressed to Buck’s.

“Eddie,” he manages to get out.

“You can have it,” Eddie grits out, dropping his free hand to Buck’s ass and dragging him up. Buck punches out a groan, body quivering as he his orgasm starts to build, pleasure pulsing at the base of his spine. Eddie’s breathing in his ear, there’s the rustle of fabric, and Buck can smell the fading scent of Eddie’s cologne.

“Please,” Buck bites out.

“Take it,” Eddie says, biting at the curve of Buck’s jaw. “You can have whatever want.”

Buck sobs out Eddie’s name as he grinds his hips down, lost in the sensations of Eddie’s hands, his voice, the pleasure cresting up and over, drowning out everything but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

_______

“You with me?”

Buck hums, craking open an eye. They’re still on the couch, his pants feel gross, but Eddie’s stroking a hand down his back so Buck can deal.

“Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says.

Eddie shifts a little, extricating himself enough to grab the water bottle. Buck makes a disgruntled noise, but can’t deny he’s thirsty. When Eddie’s satisfied he’s drunk enough, they settle back, Eddie’s hand drfiting through his hair. “Move in with me.”

Buck’s body tenses. “Eddie—”

“I’m asking,” Eddie says, and when Buck pulls back, he can see the apprehension on Eddie’s face. “Not telling. And no,” he adds, “it’s not pity.”

“I can get over it.”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He gestures for Buck to lie back down and after a momentary hesitation, Buck does, sinking against the lines of Eddie’s body. He’s lulled into comfort by the press of Eddie’s hands against his back and neck, the steady rhythm of Eddie’s chest rising and falling.

“Part of me thinks I’ll never be over Shannon,” Eddie says. Buck hardly dares breathe. “I’ve always thought I wasn’t good enough,” Eddie continues, burying his face in Buck’s hair. “And yet every time I look up, there you are. Still here.”

The words take a moment to resonate; Buck’s broken and splintered, but Eddie is too. Maybe their damaged parts match up, maybe they don’t. Somehow, they fit together anyway, and Eddie’s been here. He’s still here, Chris safe with friends because Buck needs him.

“I’ve never been a priority,” Buck rasps out.

“Yes you have,” Eddie says with a certainty that makes Buck wants to hold on and never let go. “You and Chris? You have to know you’re everything.”

Buck tightens his grip on Eddie. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Eddie huffs a breath. “I know. Neither do I, sometimes, but I’m not letting you go, Buck.”

“Promise?”

Gentle pressure on Buck’s chin tilts his head up and he stares into Eddie’s eyes and Buck’s breath catches in his throat at the expression on Eddie’s face. “You have every part of me that doesn’t belong to Chris.”

When Eddie kisses him, Buck lets himself fall.

[sincerelyasomebody]

Mama || Leticia "Letty" Cruz

(GIF: @angels-reyes)

A/N: This was created because I've seen some speculation that Letty may not make it to the end of Season 3 (😭🥺). My mind needed something fluffy to combat this and so this piece came about. Apologises for grammatical errors and please let me know if the Spanish translation needs correcting.

Characters/Pairing(s): Letty x Reader (mother-daughter relationship) ▪︎ Coco x Reader (mention) ☆ Mayans MC (brief mention) ▪︎ OCs (receptionist, mother and son duo) 

Summary: Just a mother protecting her daughter. 

Warnings: brief mention of altercation (male and female), description of injuries, fluff, language, nicknames, painkillers (reference to injury) 

Word Count: 1755

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

(Y/N) couldn't believe how busy the roads leading to the local high school were. It was a Wednesday, a little after ten and the streets were just packed with cars. She thought it was ridiculous considering people were usually at their jobs and children were in their age appropriate schools. There was no reason for people to be out and about. 

"The light's been green for five seconds!" she yelled and honked her horn, "move!" The driver in front gave her the finger before taking off, "you're so fucking lucky I've got somewhere to be, asshole!" she called out as she drove in the opposite direction. 

When her phone rang during her break, the last person (Y/N) expected to hear from was the receptionist for Santo Padre High School. According to the woman, Leticia (Letty as she was mostly referred to) had been in an altercation with another student and her parents or caregivers were requested to come and meet with the principal. Rachel, the receptionist, mentioned trying to reach her father but going straight to voicemail. With (Y/N) being listed as an emergency contact she was called. 

(Y/N) immediately asked about Letty, but was told that specific details couldn't be discussed over the phone. She found that odd, but accepted it (for the time being) and informed Rachel that she would be there as quickly as she could. After hanging up, she grabbed her belongings and told her manager she had a family emergency to attend to. She was cleared and (Y/N) informed him that she would be taking a week off as well and would keep them updated on her situation. 

From the moment she received the call to the time she pulled up in front of the high school, her thoughts revolved around Letty. Being with Coco for several years allowed (Y/N) to gain some insight to the type of life he had been subjected to. Through a lot of tears, constant reassurance and love (Y/N) was able to break through his tough exterior and get him to believe she was in it for the long haul. When (Y/N) was told by him about his daughter being in a similar environment to what he was in growing up, she demanded him to bring her home.

The second she laid eyes on Letty she saw Coco's features and personality shine through. (Y/N) didn't expect the teenager to respect or trust her right off the bat, but she made sure to let her know that she was here if she needed someone to talk to and gave her space. With every door slam, harsh comment and glare sent her way, (Y/N) continued being herself and showed Letty she wasn't a threat. It was challenging, especially when Coco left on runs, but she pushed through. Eventually the teenager began to accept her father's girlfriend without second guessing her. 

(Y/N) stepped into the main office and found a woman standing beside a teenage boy, who held some paper towels to his nose and had a couple of scratches on his face. She moved closer and realised the pair were towering over Letty who sat in the corner and was looking down at her lap. Clenching her jaw, she strode over to the trio. 

"Get the fuck away from my daughter!" she glared at the duo and turned around to Letty, who was now standing, "mi niña, are you okay?" she kissed her forehead and cupped her cheeks, "Leticia?" 

The teenager nodded, "uh… y-yeah, I'm fine," she went to move (Y/N)'s hands but winced, "completely fine." 

(Y/N)'s eyes widened at the state of Letty's hands. They were most likely bruised and what shocked her even more was that there was no ice-pack beside her seat. The boy clearly had been given assistance, but her baby girl hadn't and that pissed her off.

"Rachel!" she called out and a woman appeared around the corner, "you're the one who called me right?" 

"Yes." 

"And, you said you couldn't go over specific details of what happened over the phone?" 

"That's correct." 

(Y/N) nodded and gestured towards Letty's hands, "well I'm here now and would like an explanation on why my daughter hasn't been treated and that young man has?" When the mother tried to give a reason, she raised a hand in her face, "this doesn't concern you, this conversation is between Rachel and I." 

Rachel gulped and could feel the anger radiating off of (Y/N), "well… uh, he was bleeding and –"

"Were there other staff members present?" she asked and when she was given a nod, she continued, "why couldn't they have provided medical assistance to my daughter?" 

"She… didn't tell us she was hurt, ma'am, she said she was fine so –"

"Bitch do her hands look fine to you?" 

The mother scoffed, "at least we know where your daughter gets her attitude from." 

(Y/N) turned to her, "shut up, nobody asked for your ass to speak," she gestured towards her son, "the reason your son's looking like a fucked up tomato is completely justified I can vouch for that." 

"Are you kidding me?" She shrieked and pointed to his face, "he's most likely got a broken nose and there's scratches on his face!"

"Exactly, be glad my daughter didn't have a screwdriver on her." (Y/N) replied and almost laughed at the disbelief on the woman's face, "your son deserved every scratch, bruise and possible broken bone."

"Excuse me!?" 

(Y/N) ignored her and turned back around to face Rachel, "Letty and I will be leaving now."

"Mrs Fraser hasn't seen –" 

"My main concern right now is my daughter's well-being," she told her, "and you've got my details on file so I'm sure Mrs Fraser can contact me at a later date." 

Rachel spoke again, "please if you'd just –"

"No." 

(Y/N) picked up Letty's bag and walked over to the desk, with Letty trailing behind her. She quickly signed out on the tablet and the pair walked out of the building. Reaching her car, (Y/N) unlocked it and helped Letty into the passenger seat. Closing her door, she rushed to the driver's side and got in. 

She helped Letty buckle up, before buckling herself in, "everything okay, sweets?" 

"Yeah… uh, thanks." was the response she received, before she started up the car and pulled out of the school parking lot while explaining where they were off to next. 

-- ♡ -- ◇ -- 

"He's always talking shit," Letty explained to (Y/N) about the guy in the office, "it was about time someone shut him up." 

"And you were the person to do so?" 

She shrugged her shoulders, "he ran his mouth and then touched me, so I beat his ass." 

"Two for one special?" 

"Pretty much." 

(Y/N) chuckled, "when your hands heal up, we'll ask one of the guys to teach you a few moves in the ring, thankfully your hands are just bruised and not broken." 

"They still hurt like a bitch." 

"You've got another two hours before you can drink some more painkillers." 

"What would've happened if Coco answered the phone?" Letty questioned.

(Y/N) shook her head, "honey, I don't even think I wanna know what would've happened," she noticed the teen wince, "are you okay?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you sure?"

She huffed, "I'm fine, okay? I was fine when you picked me up. I was fine when we went to the doctor's office. I was fine at the grocery store and I was fine the last time you asked me." 

(Y/N) nodded and pulled into their driveway, putting the car in park, "I'm not gonna apologise about asking how you're feeling. I'm just – I just want to make sure you're okay. But, now I'll stop because I can see I'm annoying you." 

"Yeah, you are." 

She chuckled, "okay, I'll stop, but you'll tell –" 

Letty sighed, "yes, I'll tell you. You really take this parenting thing seriously. I mean… you've been referring to me as your daughter all day and I–I'm not. But you defended me –" 

"And I always will." 

" – against Kyle, his mum and even the receptionist. I–I've never had that before. And, even at the doctor's office you made sure I was seen by a female because you knew it'd make me more comfortable." 

"Letty?" 

"You treat me like I'm yours and you called me your daughter and I… I don't know, I just," she took a deep breath, shook her head and looked out of the window.

(Y/N) waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Thinking back on today's events, she realised she had referred to Letty as her own. She had been doing it in her mind for so long and didn't realise she had said it out in the open. Letty had heard her reference and it seemed to make her uncomfortable and that was something she vowed she wouldn't do. 

"When I started dating your dad he told me about the kids he had. He told me that he wasn't involved in their lives because being away from them was for the best. I asked him what would happen if one day a kid reached out and his response was "if they do, they do. I ain't gonna turn them away", (Y/N) spoke up, "and then you reached out, sweetums. You reached out and your dad took that as a sign. From the moment you entered our lives, it's been a whirlwind of emotions. We're not this picture perfect family, but we're our own version. Despite being almost an adult, Coco still views you as his baby girl. And, honestly, I've been viewing you the same way."

Letty sniffed and looked up, "really?" 

"Absolutely, gorgeous. The moment you stepped through that door you became mine as well," (Y/N) pointed at the front door of their home, before turning to her, "but that doesn't matter if you're not okay with it. I'm not trying to force you to be –" 

"I'm Coco's daughter," she cut in and smiled at (Y/N), "and now I'm yours too." 

(Y/N) beamed with joy and unbuckled her seatbelt, and Letty's, reaching over the middle console to bring the teen into her arms. Letty wrapped her arms around (Y/N), breathing in her (scent). The woman chuckled and kissed her cheek, "I love you, baby girl." 

Letty pulled her closer, "I love you too, mama." 

-♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ - 

Spanish Translations: 

Mi niña - my girl / baby girl

[soulmate-game]

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

[tamakissimp]

B.K/I.M- save the bunny

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: What are you supposed to do when you’re dead friend is suddenly standing before you?  𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: cursing, someone getting hit, mention of murder? 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2008 𝕒/𝕟: not my best work but o well....yeah also there’ll probably be part 2 to this

This wasn't how Bakugou wanted his Friday night to turn out. He was supposed to come how to a quiet place. Silence and tranquillity enveloping him as he let himself fall onto the plush cushions of his couch. Maybe there would be a warm meal waiting for him if he was lucky. He could finally let his worn-out muscles take a break from the constant stress they're under.

Something must have gone wrong somewhere. Or else he wouldn't be here, standing before a mocking bunny mask. Floppy fabric ears and blood-stained cheeks staring back at him. The sewn-on grin seems to scream 'punch me'.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snarls. He grits his teeth while trying to keep his explosions at bay.

The bunny simply tilts their head as they stay silent. Their long limbs seem to move spiderlike as their body turns. Bakugou's eyes following their movement.

No. Shit. Fuck. The bunny tilts his head towards the other side as they snag a photo frame from the coffee table. Pointy fingers glide over the glass, lingering on a specific person in the picture.

Bile starts to rise in Bakugou's throat. Its acidic bitterness only seems to light the fire to his aggression even more.

"Who the fuck are you?". It's useless, he knows. Like hell, a villain like 'The Bunny' will just give up their identity. The silence is killing Bakugou. His nerves on edge and his muscles rippling as he struggles to constrain himself.

He lifts his hands, an explosion already blooming out of his palm. He is ready to blast whoever this might be into bits.

"That's no way to treat your friends," a distorted voice says. Great, so this bastard can speak. Bakugou opens his mouth, about to yell their ears of but a simple word shuts him up.

"Kacchan.". His hand drops to his side his mouth hangs agape. He had dreamed of this moment. Fantasised about the moment he could apologize and hug his friend. He had planned out exactly what he would say. What he'd do, how he'd act. But this wasn't in the plan.

The bunny's pointy fingers come up to its face before ripping the mask off. A mop of green hair springs out from underneath. "Cat caught your tongue?" he asks mockingly before running those same fingers through his hair.

"How..". Bakugou's throat fails on him. His voice stops working. Is he crying? He wants to tell himself he's not but he's honestly not sure anymore. Knees buckling underneath him yet he still manages to keep himself standing up.

"How am I still alive?" Izuku finishes for him. He casts the mask aside, throwing it on the floor before letting his body fall onto the couch, the same couch Bakugou planned to rest on. He lazily drapes his arms over the top of it.

The casualness of his movements mocks Bakugou. As if he isn't Japan's most wanted criminal sitting on Japan's number one hero's couch.

"Everyone always asks that, you know?" he says he glances down at the picture frames he's still holding. "It's getting old.". He lazily runs his finger over the glass.

"You died. I buried you. Inko fucking mourned you, she still does," Bakugou says. His voice wavers and he hates himself for it. He's showing weakness.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to fake a death," Izuku says.

Bakugou's red eyes bore into his green ones. A silence hangs between them. It feels almost surreal to Bakugou. His mind hasn't caught up to the fact that his friend, or rather ex-friend, is sitting before him and isn't six feet underground.

While Bakugou's movements are ragged and forced, Izuku almost seems comical. His body has seemed to adapt to his villainous life. A theatrical elegance laced into his movements.

"I don't see you as a friend anymore," he breaks out. Izuku's eyes grow for a second and so does his smile. He straightens his back as he silently urges Bakugou on to speak.

"I buried my friend," he says. "You're not him. You might think you're him but you're not. He isn't this pathetic." He grits his teeth before lifting his hands again, getting ready to swing at him. Izuku quickly jumps up from the couch.

His eyes glint in mischief as he takes in the sight before him. "Oh, looks like you still haven't dealt with your anger, Kacchan.".

The nickname sets him off. He storms towards the green-haired man, fists raised and palms crackling from explosions. That is until he hears a familiar sound.

Both of them look towards the front door. Bakugou's face slacks with shock while Izuku's lights up with excitement. This isn't supposed to happen. Why is this happening?

Izuku quickly moves the kick his mask underneath the couch before he places the picture frame back. Bakugou eyes linger on the picture for a second. It's one of the three of you. Bakugou squished in between you and Izuku, his fingers raised behind both of your head to give you bunny ears. Oh, if he could just turn back time.

"'Suki?" you call out. Bakugou fears for his life, or rather, yours. Who knows what the crazed psychopath standing before him will do. "I thought I'd swing by and-".

Your words stop as you walk into the living room. The bags in your hands drop. Soup spills out of the containers you so meticulous packed. Bright orange curry stains the spotless carpet beneath it. The hot liquid splashes up against your leg, most likely burning your skin though you don't care.

You try to speak, mouthing opening and closing like a fish. This must be a dream, one of those horrible nightmares Kirishima often gets. That is until a familiar wobbly voice reaches your ears.

"Hi, bunny," Izuku says. Within a second, he has closed the space between you. Your arms wrap around him instinctively. It's an awkward hold. You used to be able to rest your chin on his head. Now, his muscled body towers over yours.

"Y-You're...You're dead," you whisper against his chest while nuzzling your cheek into him. His body heat seems to bring you a type of peace you haven't known of in years.

"I know, I know," he says while running his hands over your back. Sobs break out of your chest as your emotions seem to flow over. Salty rivers running past your burning cheeks and dripping into Izuku's musky hoodie.

Your body shakes as you grab onto Izuku, painfully so. You're sure you're going to leave bruises on his sickly pale skin yet you can't bring yourself to care. The aching in your chest that you've suppressed for years finally seems to boil over.

Hot and heavy emotions spill into your mind. You aren't sure if the salty taste in your mouth is from biting your lip until blood gushes out of it or the tears streaming down uncontrollably. You're sure that you look like a mess. Tears and snot dripping down your chin.

Instead of trying to see through your tear-blurred vision, you burry your face further into your friend's chest.

He's dead or at least supposed to be. You buried him, cried at his funeral and went through grief for him.

Yet here he is, in the flesh. His voice still sounds the same. He still smells the same. But he is not the same boy you knew years ago. His smile isn't the same. And his scarred hands sure aren't the same. Everything about him is the same, yet slightly different, giving you a mental whiplash.

"You have some fucking explaining to do," Bakugou says. His voice breaks you out of your trance. You pull away from Izuku, your body immediately screaming in protest. You look up at him. It feels strange, you used to be at least a head taller than him

"How the fuck are you still alive?". Bakugou doesn't have time for nicknames or formality. Not when he knows that the man standing before him has the blood of at least a hundred on his hands.

Izuku steps away from you, unwinding his arms from your body. Bakugou quickly strides over and pulls you away from the offending man. He pushes you behind him while one hand still grips onto your arm. You want to ask him what the fuck he's doing but Izuku starts talking before you can.

"It's a long story," he says. "Can't tell you everything but, long story short, I had to fake my death. Some guys were after me but it's all fixed now!". The vagueness mixed with his eerie smile only makes him look more like a psychopath.

"All fixed? All-fucking-fixed?". Boiling anger rising to Bakugou's head, clouding his thinking. He taking quick steps up to his ex-friend. Izuku doesn't even flinch when Bakugou grabs onto his neck tightly. "You left. Fucking made us think you're dead and you think you can just come in and say that everything is fixed?".

Spit flies out of his mouth and lands on Izuku's cheek, a shiver of disgust running over his spine at the feeling. Yet the green-haired man can't stop the excitement from bubbling up at seeing his friend so rilled up.

"Bakugou, Jesus fuck, calm down," you say. This situation should probably feel more serious than it is. Yet the shock still evident in your body and the adrenaline clouding your mind makes you unable to properly process it all.

"Like hell, I'll calm down!". Bakugou finally lets go of Izuku's throat. A set of cough falls out of the green-haired man's throat. He smirks as he glances down at the aggressive blond.

"Come on, Kacchan, we shouldn't do this in front of our little bunny," Izuku says with a smirk. The gears finally seem to click in his mind. Suddenly, the bunny mask, the name, the costume, it all makes sense.

"You sick fuck!" Bakugou yells before landing a hit square on Izuku's jaw. He stumbles back a bit, taken aback at Bakugou's sudden outburst. The blond takes the opportunity to land another punch right on his nose.

A wet crunch sounds through the room. You cringe as you feel bile rise in your throat from the sound. "Izuku!" you yell out as you try to get to your friend or ex-friend, you're not sure.

Bakugou stops you thought, his arms wrapping around your body and spinning you away from the green-haired freak. You pound your hand on his arms pleading with him to let you go but your ministrations do nothing to the number one hero.

Izuku laughs as he wipes away the blood dripping from his nose, tainting the grimy grey of his hoodie with it. "You're gonna regret that, Kacchan," he says. Bakugou doesn't even give him the light of day as he makes his way out of his apartment with light speed

Your throat grows dry and painful as you plead Bakugou to let you. To let you go to him. "It's okay, he's gone," Bakugou says.

You shake your head violently as you claw at his back, trying to get his arms to loosen their hold. "I need to see him. I gotta-I gotta see him. Suki, please!". The hoarseness of your voice shoots painful stabs into Bakugou's heart.

But he doesn't let his mind linger too long, running down the stairs two steps at a time. All he can focus on is getting you away from that creep before he can touch you again.

"Please, I can't leave him again," you sob out. Bakugou simply lays on hand on the back of your head, pulling you even closer to him. Thankfully he doesn't see Izuku following behind him.

"Please, not again," you say before your voice bursts out in sobs again. Fuck, how much Bakugou wants to blast that fuckers skull in. He's sure his friends at the police force wouldn't mind turning a blind eye for him. But that'll have to wait until later. Now he needs to focus on keeping you safe, safe from him.

[malfoysstilinski]

can’t even | JJ MAYBANK (smut)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 2.6k 

PAIRINGS: JJ Maybank x Reader, Rafe Cameron x Reader (slight)

SUMMARY: based on ‘can’t even’ by the neighbourhood. y/n is dating rafe cameron who is too busy snorting lines and hooking up with other girls to pay attention to her. she thinks sleeping with the enemy might even the playing field. 

WARNINGS: smut, cheating, public sex, choking, hair pulling, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk 

A/N: just to clarify, i do not condone cheating. 

You were well aware that Rafe Cameron was not a good person. It had been nearly five months since you had started going out with him, knowing fully well that he had an addiction to thin white lines. Looking back, you thought you were more than stupid to get with Rafe with the mindset of being the one that could change him. 

There was no such thing as changing someone. 

Rafe would only change when he wanted to change; falling in love with a girl wouldn’t save him. At least, he told you he loved you. When he was sober, he promised you the world-- he set up dates and apologised for whatever fucked up thing he had said the night before, for whatever touron he had kissed or even slept with. 

And you were weak-- so you kept accepting his apologies. Today felt different though. Rafe had sobbed to you the day before, promising you a date on the beach and said he would turn up sober and the two of you would be like a normal couple for once. 

An hour later and you stood pathetically by yourself at the edge of the sea, kicking about a rather large stone. You sighed, guessing that if you got stood up again, at least you were stood up on a beach. 

The evening air felt amazing on your skin; it woke you up and stopped you feeling so depressed. Instead, you felt angry. Angry at Rafe and angry at yourself for putting up with his bullshit. You weren’t his mother or his babysitter or his therapist-- you were supposed to be his girlfriend. 

He would rather snort lines than meet you at the beach. 

You sat down on the sand, your head in your hands as you shook your head. The dress that you wore had been bought specially for Rafe to admire-- it was his favourite colour and revealed more than you’d usually show, but you knew he would have liked it, so you bought it anyway. 

"And what is a girl like you doing on the beach by yourself so late at night?” Those words coming from nearly anybody else by JJ Maybank would have sounded creepy, but you knew it was just him being his usual fuckboy-ish self.

 As you glance up from your hands, JJ’s blue eyes widen and he’s taken aback to discover that it was you sat on the beach and not some lonely touron. He glances around, as if looking for Rafe or another Kook. 

“It’s just me,” you grumble. “No need to shit your pants.”

JJ scoffs and rolls his eyes. “As if I would ever be scared of Rafe Cameron. Bastard needs a plus one to even do any damage.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips at his comment. To be fair, JJ was completely right. Whenever Rafe got into fights, he always played dirty. He could never fight one on one-- he was too scared and dependent. Dependent on his friends... dependent on drugs.

The reminder makes you frown again and you look down at your hands, wondering how the hell you ended up on the beach tonight with JJ Maybank rather than your own boyfriend. 

“Rafe stood you up?” JJ assumes, taking a seat beside you on the sand-- much to your surprise. 

You and JJ were supposed to be on opposite teams. You were a Kook, he was a Pogue. You were complete opposites, or so you thought. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

“He’s a dick,” JJ insists quietly, shaking his head as he stares out at the ocean and the waves crashing near their feet. 

You turn to face him, studying his side profile. JJ is handsome. Like, really, really handsome. He’s got shaggy blond hair he usually hides behind a snapback and a strong jaw, not to mention he’s built like he lives in a gym or something. Your eyes don’t peel away even when he turns to look at you. 

“See something you like?” JJ smirks, blue eyes flickering down to yours lips. 

For some reason, maybe its the constant emptiness and worthlessness that you feel, that’s all it takes for you to surge forwards and press your lips to his. JJ hadn’t been expecting it, his body nearly falling back a second. 

It takes him less than a second to clock what’s happening and JJ kisses back even more eagerly, hand moving from behind him to grab your face. He takes the lead immediately, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip and with it swiping away any dominance you’d had before, leaving you to surrender to him. 

Your mouth opens as you gasp, reaching back and holding onto his neck, fingers ruffling up the hair sticking out beneath the red snapback he wore. His large hand starts to move down from your face to your shoulder, smoothing down the soft skin of your arm and finding your waist. He pulls you even closer to him, chests pressing against one another. 

“JJ,” you pant, reaching forward and grabbing the bottom of his loose tee, yanking it over his head. 

JJ smirks against your lips and grabs your waist with his other hand, pulling you up off of the ground to sit on his lap, one leg either side. You straddle him and can feel the bulge in the shorts that he’s wearing, making you whimper. His hands guide you as you grind against it, watching JJ clench his jaw and hiss out in pleasure. 

“Can I?” His slender fingers are tugging at the bottom of your dress that’s risen since you climbed on top of him. 

“Obviously,” you whisper, leaning down to attach your mouth to his neck. 

JJ groans as you begin to pepper kisses down his skin. You frown a little when you see a couple of bruises wrapped around his neck. You know his father can get angry with him sometimes, but by the looks of it, it’s more than occasionally like you had thought. 

You press a gentle kiss above it, feeling JJ still beneath you. You continue to leave sloppy kisses in the spot beneath his ear, feeling him groan against your ear. The breathy sound makes you feel even more aroused and you shiver as your dress is pulled off of you. 

“So fucking hot,” JJ mutters, calloused fingers trailing up all the way from your stomach to your breasts. 

He bends down and kisses along your soft flesh, sucking purple marks on top of your breasts. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, involuntarily grinding your hips harder. JJ lifts his head up and wraps a hand loosely around your neck, bringing you down to kiss him hard on the lips. 

You kiss back hard, moving to kneel on your knees, feeling JJ shift underneath you to lay down. 

“Sit on my face,” JJ orders. 

Suddenly it dawns on you that you’re in a public place. Sure, you’re in your bran and panties and he’s still in his shorts, normal attire for the beach, but it doesn’t explain what you’re about to do. The thought is arousing but also quite terrifying. 

JJ seems to realise what you’re thinking. “Nobody comes down here,” JJ says and you trust him, knowing he knows the beach better than you. “Well, nobody but you and I, I guess.”

“Okay,” you breathe and move to obey his order from before. 

You’re burning with arousal as you shift your way up his body, eventually coming to kneel above his head. You shift and slip your panties off of your body, chucking them over on top of your dress nearby. JJ grins and practically licks your lips as he grabs your thighs, bringing you down closer to his mouth. 

As soon as you feel his tongue on your dripping pussy it’s a relief. You release a long moan, one that would make a porn star jealous, and it only makes JJ want to do better. He eagerly laps up your arousal, his nose nudging your clit and making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

You lean down and grab his hair, tugging slightly. You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine as JJ’s mouth covers your pussy and he sucks, licking up and down your folds before he encloses his lips around your clit. You gasp, whining in pleasure and throwing your head back.

JJ’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and attempts to keep you still as he sucks and nibbles at your clit, lapping up your arousal every time you grew wetter and wetter. His mouth was so talented, working you closer and closer to your ending. 

JJ shakes his head against you, his nose buried in your clit as his tongue pokes at your entrance. He dives it in and out a few times, groaning at your sweet taste as his hands smooth you up and down. Eventually, his mouth finds your clit again and he does small, fast licks at it. 

“JJ, JJ, JJ!” You whine and you’re cumming before you can even process it. 

It feels like you’re breaking down on top of him as he licks you through your high, grip on you tightening in an almost bruising way. The coil in your stomach snaps and you pant, nearly crying at the pleasure of it all. When you come down, JJ continues to lick you until you force your shaking legs off of him. 

JJ grins at you as you collapse on the sand beside him. His face is glistening with your slick and arousal and he licks his lips and swipes at his face with the back of his and. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward and connecting his lips with yours as if it to give you a taste. 

“Need more,” you pant as you pull away and JJ is more than happy to find that you’re already reaching for the buttons of his shorts. 

He looks down as you undo the button, hissing and throwing his head back when you purposefully press the zipper into his erection whilst you drag it down. He chuckles to himself and shakes his head in amusement, unable to comprehend how an idiot like Rafe Cameron got so lucky to be with a girl like you. 

You’re pulling his shorts and his underwear down next, allowing his cock to spring free. JJ hisses at the evening air on his reddened tip, biting his lip as he watches you grab his cock with your hand, swiping off the precum with your thumb as you slowly jack him up and down. 

You look up into his eyes and he can’t help snatching your lips up in his again. Before you can tear your lips from his to repay him for your first orgasm, JJ shakes his head and slowly pushes you back so you’re lying in the sand. 

“No, wanna be inside you,”JJ says, kicking his shorts off and leaning so that he was propped in between your legs. “Is that okay?”

You nod, hands moving up to hold his shoulders as he grabs his cock and shifts. He moves so its against your entrance. You bite your lip when you feel him nudge his tip against your clit, teasing you. JJ collects some of your arousal before he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes in. 

You barely stifle your moan as inch by inch JJ moves inside of you. JJ can’t help it as he throws his head down, resting in the nook of your neck and shoulder until he’s all the way in. You feel so full and stretched whilst he feels like he’s been clamped down on, your tight walls hugging him and nearly making him cum right there and then. 

“You’re so big,” you breathe, rolling your head back as he leaves sloppy kisses against your neck, slowly rocking against you so you got used to his side. 

JJ smirks. “Bigger than Rafe?”

The sudden reminder of your boyfriend should have made you feel bad, but instead you found yourself quickly nodding in agreement, boosting JJ’s ego and making him thrust into you harder. 

“So much bigger,” you pant against him, wanting him to go faster. 

It works. JJ seems to bathe in the praise, lifting up higher onto his elbows and thrusting harder and harder, experimenting with the angles he was hitting, waiting to see which one made you moan the loudest. 

When he hit the right spot you nearly screeched, your hands clawing at his back. JJ grins and bites down on his lip as he works to thrust his cock in and out of you faster. 

“Does Rafe make you moan like this?” JJ groans. “Does Rafe fuck you like this where anybody can see?”

“No,” you shake your head, fighting back the moans as you feel yourself pulse around him. 

He grabs you and slides out of you. You whine at the emptiness you feel but grow more excited when JJ flips you around so that you’re on your hands and knees. His hand smoothes down your back before he slaps your ass, leaving a red hand print. He squeezes it as he slides back into your slick heat. 

“JJ,” you whimper. 

He reaches forward and bunches your hair up as he slams into you, the sounds of your bodies hitting against each other mixing with the crashing of the waves. He tugs you up roughly so your back is pressed against his chest.

“Who makes you moan like this?” JJ demands, hissing against your ear as his other hand reaches around to grab you by the neck. “Who fucks you this good?”

“You do, you do,” you cry, tears leaking down your face as you come closer and closer to your high. “JJ. JJ!”

“Cum for me, darlin’,” JJ grits his teeth as he pounds into you from behind, his hand moving from your hair to rub at your clit harshly. 

“Fuck,” you sob as you cum, your walls clenching around him. 

The orgasm is easily the best one you’ve ever had-- truly better than anything Rafe’s ever given you. You hear JJ’s breathy moans from behind you and feel his thrusts grow sloppier and less even. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you.

“In me, in me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, JJ.”

Your voice saying that is possibly the hottest thing that JJ’s ever heard and he find himself obeying. He shudders against you, his hips snapping frantically to chase his high before his cock shoots spurts of cum deep inside you, the hot liquid filling you up and covering your walls. 

You both moan at the feeling, JJ remaining deep inside you until he has nothing more to give. He pulls out after a moment and the two of you collapse down onto the sand, your head next to his. You can feel your releases spilling from your pussy and dripping down your legs. 

“Oh my God,” the sudden realisation of what you just did creeps up on you and you’re scrambling for your underwear and your dress. 

JJ watches, disappointed to see you leave so quick. He thought for a split second that maybe you would have laid with him for a bit-- not that he was usually one for aftercare. Normally, he was the first to leave. 

“I have to go,” you blurt. “Please don’t mention this to Rafe...”

JJ pulls up his underwear and frowns as he watches you grab your bag and straighten your dress up. 

“I’m sorry,” you run your hand through your messed up hair. “This should have never happened.”

But as you rush away, most likely to go find your drug addict of a boyfriend himself, JJ can’t help but disagree. It happened for a reason. 

Maybe I will do a part two where Rafe finds out? 

PART TWO

[softhxtch]

TITTLE: Just Be Here

SUMMARY: Reader just finished a case and her husband, Aaron Hotchner is always there to support her. 

PAIRING: female! reader x Aaron Hotchner

CHARACTERS: reader, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss and David Rossi (literally for a second), Allison (OC)

WARNINGS: child assault and abuse; mentions of misscariage, alcohol usage, body fluids (blood, urine, vomit), pornography.

WORD COUNT: 3,5K

A/N: am i back? i don’t know hahah, but it’s something, right? again in this story Jack doesn’t really exist, sorry. and again CAC - Crimes Against Children.

'Hey, sweetie. You're safe, okay? Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore.', you whispered taking little girl into your arms. She was sobbing quietly with tears falling down her pink cheeks. She was no more than three years old, still in her purple pajamas, that were dirty form all the body fluids person can imagine and also dirty room she was held in. 'You're safe, Allison. You're safe.', you kept repeating and little girl just held her hands around you even tighter.

You looked around the room and the whole sight was just horrible. No windows, barely any lights, cages, blood and urine all over the floor. Just an awful place to be in let alone to live for months. Even the smallest thought of what was going on before the whole team came in gave you shivers and blood started to boil inside you. The place was there for years at that point and no one knew about it. You were just looking at your teammates, taking the rest of the kids out of the building. Some were crying, some were screaming and some were just clinging to the agents hoping that they would never comeback. And they never will. You would make sure of that.

' Allison, we have to go.', you said quietly, trying not to scare her. But little girl just shook her head and tightened her arms around your neck. 'We have to go. You need to see a doctor. It's scary, I know, but I'm gonna be with you all the time, okay?'

It wasn't easy to convince Allison to come out of the building, but after some negotiations and conversations with you she agreed. You're holding her in your arms as close as possible, trying to avoid the blue and red lights that were blinding both of you in the dark night.

Hospitals were always the last place that you're wanted to be. If you were the it only meant that either someone from your team or family was injured or one of the victims from your case were in tragic condition.

To put it straight, hospitals were never a good sign.

But you couldn't go home, not just yet. You promised Allison, that you would be with her this whole time, so you were also there when she got a check up from the pediatrician. You were holding her hand, caressing the back of it from time to time just to reassure her that you're there. Sometimes your would just add how great she was doing and how strong it is.

'Home.', Allison whined as doctor was checking on one of her bruised legs. Few tears fell down her cheeks, which made your hear break. It was horrible to seeing anyone in that position, but especially a child.

'You're doing great, Allison. Just few more minutes, okay?', you said quietly, taking hair out of her forehead.

'I just need to check the other leg and then you can have a long nap, till morning. How does that sound?', doctor asked and written down something on her notepad.

'I think it's great! Do you, Sonnie?', you said with a happy voice, looking at a little girl. She just nodded, still pouting from her cry few seconds ago. 'I'll be right back.', you said when you heard familiar phone ring. Doctor nodded understanding, but Allison held your hand not wanting to let you go. ' Allison, I'll be back in few minutes. I just need to answer that call, okay? You will be able to see me through the glass. I'm not going anywhere and until then you'll stay with Doctor Ashley.', you explained.

She wasn't convinced at all. It took you few more minutes for to actually let go of your hand. You explained everything a least three times. Doctor eyed you few times, but you just tried to ignore her. After years of working with children you knew how long it sometimes takes to convince them. Especially the ones that have been seriously hurt. They just wanted someone to be with them through the whole process and you understood it one hundred percent.

You sent Allison a small smile, saying one more time, that you'll be back in few minutes. After that you left the room and took out phone, dialing number that called you before.

'Hi.', you heard deep, yet soft voice on the other side. You sighed and replied with the same thing. 'Long night?'

'Yeah and I can't even see the end of it.', you answered and heard your husband's laugh. 'It wasn't a joke.', you added, rolling your eyes.

'I know. But it's kind of ironic considering that the sun will be up in less than an hour.', Aaron said. You could hear him moving around the house. Walking from bathroom to bedroom, probably getting ready for work. 'How are the kids?'

'Fine, if you could say it after living in a basement for most of your life and posing for creepy middle aged men.', you answered, feeling the shivers on your arms. The images that you saw literally just came back. And you can expect they will be coming back more often, but this time in your nightmares.

'All alive?', Aaron asked. You could hear him doing something in the kitchen, which made you smile, still looking at Allison. You actually would do everything to be right now with him in that kitchen. Waiting for his famous muffins with bacon and eggs, like he would do whenever both of you had day off.

'Yes, all eight of them.', you nodded. 'You're heading to work now? It's a bit early, even for you.'

'Not yet.', he answered quickly. You could hear another chews from the other side, which actually made your stomach going louder. 'But yesterday I picked up from the post office that coffee table, that you ordered and I thought I would put it together.'

'You're gonna put a coffee table together? At-', you asked surprised, looking at the watch on your phone. '-4:38 in the morning? Are you okay?', you added with a laugh.

'What can I say? I'm just bored without you.', he answered. Right after that you heard a loud noise from the other side and a quiet curse from Aaron.

'You're okay?', you asked, furrowing you brows.

'Yes. I'm looking for the box with all the tools.', he replied. 'I think I'll ask Morgan about them. He'll know what I should use.'

'How about you leave it to me, huh? I'll do it, because we don't want another trip to ER. It'll be third time this year, they'll assume that I'm assaulting you.', you laughed, hearing just quick 'hey!' from your husband.

For the first time in hours you actually felt nice. You didn't had constant fear in your head about the case. You weren't even thinking about it, right now what you were thinking about was Aaron and that stupid coffee table. And he knew about it, that was the reason why he called. After you were in a car with Allison and two policemen, you texted him that the case was over and you're headed to the hospital with victims. Both of you always do it, just to reassure each other that the other person is fine. Aaron on top of that would always call you. He's a very light sleeper, even waking up when you stir in bed sometimes, so every vibrations of his phone wakes him up. No matter what the time is on the clock, he always calls you. He knows how much you love your job and how saving kids was your thing. You loved it, after few years in narcotics unit you know you found your place. But Aaron also knew that you get very into the cases and you involve yourself a lot and if the case goes wrong you blame yourself really hard. Especially being a unit chief, just like him. So he always tried to light the mood even just a little and talk about the day, whatever comes to his mind.

'You're staying in the hospital, right?', it almost wasn't a question. It wasn't anything new to be honest. A lot of the times you would comeback to the hospital with the victims and especially with this case. He knew it wouldn't be different. You were working on it for over a month and it was draining you.

'Don't think I have a choice.', you admitted, looking back at Allison who was also starring at you. The doctor stopped examination and was about to leave. 'One of the girls won't let me go.'

'Just be careful, okay? And take care. Don't forget to eat something.', he reminded, knowing the previous situations.

'I will.', you reassured him. 'I love you.'

'I love you too, sweetheart. Give me a call later in a day.', Aaron said and you agreed.

After you said your goodbyes, you put the phone in the pocket and went back to the room. Allison immediately opened her arms and you laughed coming closer.

'You're back!', she said loudly, which made you laugh even more. Doctor Ashley smiled at both of you and left the room.

'I said I will.', you reminded her, patting her head. You could clearly see the tiredness in her eyes and how hard she was trying not to fall asleep. 'I think it's good time for a sleep.', you proposed, but Jade just shook her head immediately, taking back. ' Allison, you need to sleep.'

'Not sleepy.', she answered quietly, putting knees closer to her chest. 'Don't want to sleep.'

'You've been awake for a long time, Sonnie. You need to rest. I do too. Everyone needs to sleep so they will have energy for the next day.', you explained, but she once again shook her head. 'I'll be there the whole time. Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're safe.'

'Seven minutes?', she asked, trying to stop the yaw. You nodded and observed how she put her head on the pillow, drifting away from the real world.

Aaron Hotchner looked at his watch for the tenth time in the last 8 minutes. He signed and went back to signing papers in front him.

It was a slow day. Most paper work days were slow, but this one was even slower. He just couldn't focus. His thoughts were everywhere but in that office. He was thinking about his wife and what she's about to at that moment, probably still at hospital with the little girl. It was literally breaking his heart when he was thinking about your job and side effects, but also about your personal issues.

Being married for almost six years and together over eight, was something he was very proud of. He loved you with his whole heart and couldn't see anyone but you. The whole team always loved to see when a woman would flirt with Aaron, because it was always so funny to see him nicely declining the actions. Aaron Hotchner was a strong man with a very intimidating vibe, his voice could literally break you into a meltdown and get when a woman would approach him his eyes would always look for you. He just couldn't see his world existing without you.

With that being said he also knows you very well. Whenever something was wrong, he could feel it. Just from the look in your eyes or movement. You almost didn't have to talk to have a conversation. He understood you without any words and so did you.

After long nights when there were only you two together, Aaron knew what you wanted. Be knew all your dreams and wishes. Where you would like to go for vacations or favourite cuisine. Things that he could control. He also knew about your dream job and family wishes. Things he couldn't control and everytime Aaron would think about this, his heart would break into thousand pieces. Because if he could he would give you everything that you wanted and to do that he would sacrifice anything he could.

Quiet sound of a clock, that was announcing noon, got Aaron out of his thoughts. He looked at the clock just to assure himself of the hour and pressed his lips into thin line. Then he just closed the files on the rest, took coat and walked out of the room. Aaron walked to his friend's office and knocked on the door. He opened them after quick 'come in'.

'Dave, I'm gonna be back in an hour.', Aaron said, looking at the older man working on his papers. He looked up with pen still between his fingers.

'Everything's okay?', Dave asked and got quick nod from Aaron. 'Y/N's at the hospital again?'

'Yeah, they finished the case few hours ago so I'm sure she hasn't ate anything since.', he explained. 'I'm just gonna bring her food and come back.'

'No problem. If anything happens, we'll call you.', David said, waving younger man off. Aaron just laughed and closed the door. Then he walked down the stairs, wanting to leave the office.

'Hey, Hotch! Are you going again to get some food?', Emily's voice stopped him from going further. He turned around to face not only her, but three other agents. 'You're going outside, right?'

'Yes, Emily.', he sighed. 'But I'm not going to the place you love to eat from.'

'I figured. But maybe you would want to do us a favor and go there? Since you're already going outside the office.', she explained and Derek started to come closer with JJ right behind him. 'Look, it's raining outside and it's pointless to have two wet agents in the office. We will pay for the gas and also your food, huh?'

'Just text me your order and I'll see what I can do.', Aaron said, rolling his eyes slightly. Then he turned around and started walking towards the elevators, still hearing voices of agents behind him, who were deciding on the order.

Pediatric floor of the hospital was as always busy. Kids running around, parents trying to keep up with them, crying children from everywhere you can imagine and on top of that walls with so many colours, that he thought that someone vomited on them. He had no problem of finding the room where you were. Of course with a help from nurses.

Aaron slowly opened the door from the hospital room. He was expecting for either you or the child to be asleep and he didn't want to wake anybody up. But the sight inside made just his heart to melt.

You were sitting on the couch with Allison sleeping in your arms. Her head was on your chest and arms were really tight around the back. Her moth were slightly open, just like yours. But you also had your head hung back and he was sure he'd hear your complaints about the neck pains for the next week.

Aaron slowly put the package with your favourite food and something tasty for children on the small table near the door. Then he took the blanket from the bed and put it over you and the little girl, knowing how cold you must be from laying down in one place for so long. After that he just put a light kiss on your forehead and with one last look he left the room.

Aaron got to the elevator and took out his phone, checking out one message from Emily.

If you are going to the place near the hospital and there's a girl with short red hair, then say that you would like to order for Agent Prentiss 😘

He furrowed his brows at the message and dialed her right away.

'Did I say something wrong?', she answered after one signal.

'How this girl supposed to know your order?', he asked, looking at the numbers of elevator going down.

'She'll know, trust me. I've been there many time.', Emily laughed and Aaron could practically see her smile through the phone.

'Whatever.', he sighed, hearing the ding from the elevator. 'Oh and Prentiss?', Aaron called and heard quick 'yeah' from the other side. 'Stop sending me emojis. It's highly unprofessional to do it to your boss and it's making me uncomfortable.', he ended, walking out of the hospital.

You could physically feel lighter closing the door to you home. Everything related to work you always tried to leave outside this house and treat this place like an escape. And it was a long few weeks, so you were nothing but happy and relieved that it's over.

The house was quiet and dark. You could only see dim light from the living room and just thinking about it made you smile. You took off your jacked and boots, leaving the bag at the usual place and started walking towards the light. As you saw Aaron sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, you smiled even wider. His feet were on the coffee table and he had a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You leaned on the door frame and with arms crossed on the chest, you observed him.

'I'm awake.', Aaron said with raspy voice. You knew that he was probably sitting here for a while already.

'I know.', you answered and started walking towards the cabinet with alcohols. 'Aaron Hotchner is at home before me. What's happening in this world? Did they closed the FBI building?', you joked while pouring wine into a glass and sitting next to him.

'Very funny.', he answered with a sarcasm. He put arms around your shoulders and kissed your temple.

'I actually am.', you said, taking a sip. 'But I'm glad you're here.'

'Anytime.', he hummed, placing one more kiss on your head.

'Except the time you're working.', you joked and he just rolled his eyes. 'Thank you for the dinner, by the way. Although I would get something to eat myself, you know?'

'Yeah, you would probably eat your first meal of the day right now. I know you, Y/N.', he said, caressing your arm. 'So, how's the girl?'

'Allison?', you asked, reminding yourself of her beautiful smile in your head. Aaron only nodded, taking a sip from his glass, telling you to continue. 'She's gonna be okay, I hope. But she went through a lot.'

'You got close to her.'

'Yeah.', you admitted. 'I know what you think, Aaron. I know that it's not a good thing, I Get close to those kids and then I come home and they're not there. I know how this looks like. But I swear I just want to help them.'

'I know. But also you need to realize, that when they'll go to foster care they won't have someone to look after them every minute they're there. That there's gonna be many more kids their age and the attention you're giving them right now won't be given to them anymore.', he finished, looking down at you.

'Maybe they don't have to go to foster care.', you whispered, hugging your husband closer.

'You want to adopt a child?', Aaron asked slowly getting to the conclusion and realizing something else. 'You wanna adopt Allison.'

'I do.', you admitted. 'But I won't do it.', you added, sitting straight. Aaron just gave you questioning look. 'They found her mother in Portland, she'll come and get her tomorrow. Ignoring the fact that she doesn't have any job, is living in a two bedroom apartment with four other roommates and all the money goes to the alcohol. Yeah, so Allison has a bright future ahead of her.'

'You never know.', he answered. You put head on his chest once again and laid there for few minutes in silence, trying to relax.

'So, you actually put that table together.', you said keeping the eyes in small brown table in front of you, with Aaron's feet on top.

'I thought you'll never notice.', he answered almost sounding hurt.

'Oh, I did. Just wanted to hold the suspension for a little while.', you smiled and kissed him on the lips. 'Derek did it, am I right?', you whispered, narrowing your eyes.

'No.', he answered simply.

'Liar.', you whispered again, kissing him one more time, but stopping after you hear his phone going off. 'Everything's okay?', you asked.

'Yeah, just Emily.' he answered, but started explaining seing your confused face. 'I gave Emily's number to one of the girls that she has crush on from the restaurant. And I guess she had a good evening.', he ended and showed you the text.

SSA aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner, you are truly THE  man 🥰🤭💗🍑

[cosmiclatte28]

Steal My Girl (jaehyun x you)

a/n : Am I posting too much Jaehyun fic? Anyways it is February and I associate him with February (despite there are other members having Feb as their bday too! miannnn)

ALSO HAPPY JAEHYUN DAY EVERYONE!!! 

warning : none :D safe to read for all age! drink moderately and be responsible

enjoy................................

“Hey um sorry to bother you,” Mark pops his head into your room.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows rising to ask him why.

Mark scratches his neck and you pause the music jamming into your ears. You drag your earphone down and ask the “troubled” man on your door frame.

“Umm Jaehyun is drunk again, and he called me to pick him up.” Mark explains slowly, you nod and wait for him to continue, “Are you busy?”

You glance at the clock, it’s almost nine and tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t really have anything coming soon, you finished your work for this week already.

“Nope not busy, why?” You finally tackle Mark down to the big question mark you had in your head.

Jaehyun is drunk and yeah what does Mark needs?

“You know I still cannot drive, and Johnny is on the party too drunk. Taeyong has passed out since his first cup and I don’t know who else can I ask help for.”

You smirk and shake your head, what a silly request!

However, Mark is still your cousin and Jaehyun is the man you treasure.

“Funny how Jaehyun called you instead of me! Did he forget you cannot drive yet.” You stand up to change your clothes and Mark doesn’t need a second order to change too.

“You’re sitting beside me! I am not dealing with the drunk men!” You put on a jacket and grab the key, wallet, and phone.

You made it to the party house, Mark quickly fetching his three drunk brothers and you just stay back. You’re not coming in.

The last man to enter the car is Jaehyun. You did not know how Mark made the three big men sit on the back compartment of your car, but here we are!

“Woaah we’re suddenly in a car! Who called the cab? Why is the service so nice…” Taeyong blurs off laughs and words, “Even the driver is pretty!”

You roll your eyes, why would Tae drinks if he knows he is this bad with alcohol.

“Hey she’s (y/n)! Dummy… keep quiet Yong, or else you’ll puke.” Johnny pushes Taeyong’s head to the other side. Well Taeyong needs to sit between the two men and he’s already leaning to Johnny.

“Ah it’s you sweetie! Sorry for going out again without you…” Jaehyun reaches for your shoulder from the back seat. You’re used to this, even though you two are dating, you don’t always join him on his parties.

“Driving her boyfriend home safely, check!” Jaehyun giggles in his unconscious state.

__

“Bae, help me with this calculus homework!!” Jaehyun once knocked on your apartment you share with Mark. He barged in one evening after you and Mark finished dinner, in a messy hair and crumpled math paper.

You nicely offered him dinner and brought him to sit on the dining table. Mark served him snacks and water, while you calmly taught him how to work on the problems. Step by step, well while reviewing too, since he was on the same class as you.

After working on the homework and Jaehyun could answer ten sets of question by himself, you let him go.

“Thanks girl! You’re the perfect lover!”

Teaching and tutoring your boyfriend? Check!

__

 “Babe, sorry to disturb you again…” Jaehyun’s voice appears softer and you know he is going to ask you a favor with this tone.

You glance from your homework, sparing only an eyebrow to him and he grins “I lost some buttons on the way home.” He shows you his button up shirt that lost three buttons.

You raise your brow, “Did you fight?”

He scratches his pink hair, “Well, someone mocked Doyoung and Taeyong, so I taught them some lessons.”

Only then did you notice, he has a small bruise on his face and a ripped lip.

You quickly stand up and grab his cheeks, checking for any other scratches on his pretty face. Jaehyun giggles when he sees your worried face.

You pick up the first aid kit and sit down on the sofa with Jaehyun by your side. “You should stop fist fighting sweetie, you don’t want to end up in the police office. I don’t have enough money to bail you out.” You roll your eyes and laugh, trying to make him laugh too.

Jaehyun smirks, “Haha yeah I know that, but you will find a way.”

You press on his scar and he winces, “Stop playing around.” You snap at him.

After taking care and bandaging his wounds, you finish your homework while Jaehyun sits on the sofa compressing his body.

You clean up your stuffs and finally walk to take your sewing kit, “Do you still have your buttons?”

He shakes his head, “Gone.”

You smirk, “Sorry, the only one I have are these,” you show him a set of cute pink buttons.

Jaehyun’s mouth drop, “You want me to wear that?”

You frown, “Well you lost your buttons. That is your button up, you go buy your own buttons.”

He sighs, “Fine…”

You smile secretly, “I’ll fix it later, wash this first.” You toss it to him and he lazily walks to the laundry basket and bring his dirty laundries with him to the washing room.

He goes back to the room with a happier face, saying he met Doyoung and Taeyong doing their laundries and got treated to some coffee. You just nod and the night goes on.

Only on the next morning did Jaehyun greets you with a spin and a kiss.

“When did you fix my shirt? Gosh thanks! You really are a perfect girl! Love you!!” he kisses you happily and you just nod your head.

Well, he slept early last night and you nicely sew his three buttons back with a normal button. You have them, you just want to tease him.

“Taking care of boyfriend and sewing clothes, check!”

__

 “Sorry I am late!” Jaehyun appears wet under the rain, and you just shake your head at the boy who is stranding in the front porch of your college building drenched in rain water.

“Forgot your umbrella again?” you calmly lead him into your college hall. Well, he promised to attend the exhibition with you, but here he is drenched in rain.

“I lend it to an old lady, she was stuck in the supermarket and I passed by.” He tries his best to squeeze the water out of his shirt.

You dig into your bag and toss him your sweater, “Lucky I brought your sweater. Go change, at least you won’t fall sick.”

His pants are wonderfully wet, but that guy managed to half dry it on the toilet.

“Secretly has a back up for boyfie, check!” Jaehyun grins to himself.

--

The list goes on, the number of incidental and accidental moments pile up. But always whatever happen, you always have a solution for him. With your calm personality, you just shake your head in disbelieve and like magic, you are able to give him a solution.

“Yow Jae, tell us how are you still surviving college at this rate?” Johnny asks his friend on a Saturday boys night.

Jaehyun looks away from the TV screen and spare a glance on his friend, “Survive? What do you mean?”

Doyoung groans at his slow wit, “That slow wit, fights, constant good scores despite you sleeping in class, and many more drunk nights.”

Taeyong has already shifted his attention too from the screen to the young man in pink hair.

“Share the secret please!” Yuta chimes in.

Jaehyun thinks for awhile, trying to answer all the questions proposed to him suddenly.

“Um… I think I survived and still live today because of (Y/n).” he shrugs his shoulder.

The four men groan and sigh, “RIGHT! How can we forget your super girlfriend!”

“You’re right (y/n) is the one who takes care of me! It’s like any problem I have… she has the solution.” Jaehyun realizes.

Doyoung lets out a huff, “Where can we get one?”

“I lowkey want to steal her when she picks us up on the club at night!” Johnny winks, which earns a pout from Jaehyun

“I want her more when Jaehyun said she sew his clothes at night when he lost three buttons. Gosh Jaehyun you’re really pampered, she does everything for you!” Taeyong punches Jaehyun’s shoulder playfully.

Jaehyun stays silent, his friends’ words coming in and out of his ear like that, but his head is slowly playing all of the memories and times he asked for your help and you’re always there. You always leave everything behind and help him, but has he done the same thing for you? Doubt.

“Aigo she is perfect! Can I just steal her? I believe I can be a better man,” Yuta laughs, and the other men laugh too but that earns him a loud smack on the head from Jaehyun.

“CALM DOWN! MY HEAD! YOU PUNCHED ME FULL POWER!” Yuta rubs his pounding head and sees fire in Jaehyun’s eyes

“No one is stealing her! She is mine, and fyi you cannot find anyone else like her in this world.” Jaehyun smiles with proud, “She is one of a kind, and if you find someone else like her, she belongs to me.”

end

lol wouldn’t this be cool if there is a tiktok trend for this? 

“helping boyfie do calculus,check!”

“helping boyfie sew buttons? check!”

byee author is just out of her mind