#drooling and sniffing type shit

[fandomfloozy]

love how everyone has unanimously agreed that caleb is definitely a panty sniffer

[lylian333]

Yandere Romance x reader

warning/contact: small headcore and idea, toxic ig, please help me check if I make any mistakes or other things I forgot to include, yandere, stalking, supper random scenario or au, idk where this is going like really....

~Boyfriend au~

He loves cuddling up with you

He's probably a starve touch person and words of affection

He once even sniffed your hair while cuddling you, don't mind that much tho

He would also love going out shopping with you and especially when you ask him, "Does this look good on me?"/"Does this suit me?"

He loves dressing you up all pretty for him his taste and style, but if you don't want it or aren't feeling like it he'll go with whatever you want

He would also be a slow and deep kisser

After kissing, there will be a thin strand of saliva that clings between your lips and his, stretching with the distance until it finally snaps

your chest rising, your lips wet and swollen, a small trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.(I feel like he loves it sloopy like that)

clingy 24/7

Pet names he would either call you my angle/princess /Suger cube/my sun/moon fuck if kinky enough then master/mommy

He would be the type to flirt with other girls just to see you all mad, frustrated, and jealous, and refuse to talk to him, idk he just wants to see you all tense

But if you ever dare pull up that move on other people, he'll be all sad, emo, overthinking that he isn't enough for you, and would keep asking questions like what makes them so special that you have to touch their arms, and all that

Or he would show off his clingy side in front of that person, like coming up from behind and hugging you at the waist and pushing their whole body onto your back, and placing their head on your shoulder, getting all so clingy by then you already know there's pushiment waiting for you back home

Or he'll just kill and take that person's soul after you leave (best solution out of all)

~yandere au slowly~

He seems like those guys that enjoy begging or simping hard and don't like it when other girls throw themself to him like some kind of rag doll

he wants changlle he wants to be fucking despried not only that you special to him in a particularly way

He would be so curious about you, he'll stalk your whole online site that your on if you don't have anything on there no worries, he'll just have to do it physically. He wouldn't mind rescheduling his time at all, you're worth every time he spend on.

But anyway, during signature time where the girl group and boy group join together while he was acting all cocky around with mira and abby/abs he then hear a fimallir soft voice, he instantly turn around just to see you

holy shit it's really you, you were standing there sliming and asking mira for a signature

like isn't suppose to be him? like- you caught him so off guard he didn't knew you like kpop maybe he's too carless and accidently miss your playlist many weird shits were going through his head , his expression may not say it all but one thing for sure he was stud like staring at you and not blinking you saw his expression and try to ignore it instent focusing on mira

While Mira try handing you back the photocard back he snatches it and puts his signature and number on the back of the card you couldn't refuse it or snatch it back, so you just accept it and smile at him while nodding at him

image like he had a small collection of your items, like after you left a cafe once you accidently left your hair tie behind and when he went over your table to you know...you know...to help you check if you left anything

it means the hair tie look worn out and kinda of covered with your hair, you probably don't want it anymore, so he took it and left

Back at his place, he personally hand-picked out all your hair and placed it in a small tiny box, and for the hair tie itself while he would sniff it for many purposes, even use it like it's his

The other members are curious to why he would go out when its supposed to be rest time for them to relex for the day but nope, he would dress up all weird with like black jacket sun sunglasses and mask a binne you know all those that look like a stalker, but never would have they though he's out there busy stalking someone i mean his nickname is romance he flirty as fuck

You were also be aware of a guy follow you non stop so you stop going out and rarely coming out. Instead, you used food delivery, all that, which makes him mad, like he now has to break into your house

shit that's it for now hopefully this is not too confusing its like a mix of my vomit ideas shit maybe I'll arrange it more proper in the future still hope u like my headcore and pls tell me if I did any mistake and ye any ideas u could share with me and I'll greatly consider it

[byelacey]

so you want to keep a great pyrenees as a pet

recently a little comic i made did big numbers on here and i keep seeing tags like "gotta get me a great pyrenees" and like AWESOME there are SO MANY of these big boys looking for adoption, especially in the US but i feel like as a person who got a pyr as their first dog (because i'm insane) there are some things you need to know - they BARK. all day and all night. they've been bred for barking. this is not bond spyxfamily borfing this is LOUD and CONSTANT. barking is their job. working pyrs protect their livestock by looking intimidating, bluff charging and barking very loud. they're also often naturally nocturnal, which means a lot of their barking is done at night. if you're the type who doesn't enjoy loud noises for most hours of the day, reconsider keeping a great pyr as a pet - they are LARGE. they are large when they are hormonal, idiot puppies. their bodies grow VERY FAST but their brain takes 2-3 years to catch up and during that time you've got a 75-150lb puppy on your hands. everything is more expensive because your dog is big, too. beds, accessories, food, vet stuff, medication, grooming, *everything is more expensive* for big dogs. get yourself some pet insurance. you'll thank yourself later. - they're sensitive creatures who form strong bonds with their flock. if you're keeping one as a pet: congratulations, you're now this dog's flock. separation anxiety is huge. they're meant to be guarding their flock, and if you go off without them, they're gonna worry about you. they also don't take well to you shouting at them for doing their job (barking very loud at wayward leaves). i'm serious. they're so so sensitive. - they're extremely smart and independent, which reads as stubbornness to us. they think they know better because they've been bred to work on their own, without humans around to tell them what to do. they're gonna pick up commands really fast, but they do shit on their own time. and recall? forget it. "an off-leash pyr is a dissa-pyr", as the saying goes. this is not a dog you'll be able to have off-leash, as he's gonna do and go wherever he damn well pleases - THAT BEING SAID as they are a large breed dog (extra large, actually), training is extremely important. small untrained dogs can get away with a lot more than a large dog. some people are afraid of dogs. you need to teach your pyr early and often what isn't a threat to you so they aren't causing trouble with their guardian shenanigans - they shed. they drool. they're large, double-coated dogs with big jowls. i have cleaned drool off of every surface of my house, including the ceiling. they blow their coat twice a year and also shed undercoat all of the time. i brush mac once a week during regular season and every other day when he's blowing his coat so that his coat stays healthy and doesn't become impacted or matted. - EDIT: someone just tagged this with a great point as well. you need a lot of space for a pyr! a fenced backyard, at least, with a fence tall enough they can't easily climb over (6ft preferably). they aren't high energy dogs but they do get a lot out of being able to roam around and patrol their yard. they are not apartment dogs (unless you walk them a lot, and you hate your neighbours) admittedly my fenced backyard isn't huge, but mac gets around 2-2.5 hours of walking per day, split between a morning & afternoon walk. they need the mental stimulation of walking around and sniffing stuff! if i haven't scared you off yet, owning a great pyr as a pet is a difficult, but rewarding experience. try and find a breed-specific shelter, there are many, because unfortunately these dogs are overbred in the US (either on purpose or by accident), and they're also often surrendered as puppies because people didn't know what they were getting into. a shelter will also take your lifestyle into consideration when pairing you up with a dog, because they want to find permanent homes for these guys.

anyway i think that's it. and if you have a pyr i am wishing you a very (show me your dog)

[puptrefied]

　unbelievable, honestly.

the baby has been absolutely restless lately, still getting used to the fact that she is no longer in the womb. poor girl, she is suddenly very aware of the lack of warmth 24/7 now that she started to experience what's called weather and the daily breeze of an open window.

handing baby girl to rudy after nursing so he could put her to sleep while you take care of yourself was a wonderful idea. she gets sleep, he gets baby cuddles and you get to shower. everyone's more than happy with the deal.

for a moment, everything was perfect. stepping out of the bathroom, hair and body comfortably wrapped in a towel, you sighed with relief. clean, refreshed, and feeling human again—you dared to hope for a tiny, well deserved moment of peace. you just gave birth after all. ( gotta give mama a break ! )

but that hope was short-lived because there he was, laying down on the bed, baby nestled against his chest, crying.

not the baby. rodolfo.

“jesus, what happened? why are you crying?” you asked, alarmed while quickly approaching the bed. every single disastrous scenario automatically finding their way into your mind. was she hurt? did she stop breathing for a second? did he feel something weird on her body? did she—

instead of answering, he simply handed you his phone to show an Instagram reel about a quinceañera and her father swaying side to side to ‘tiempo de vals’ by chayanne. the song tugging at his heartstrings with every note. it's like the phone was mocking him and his emotional dad brain, cruelly reminding him that she won't be a baby forever. that one day it's gonna be her on a big, beautiful dress wearing a shiny crown and looking like an angel on her birthday party.

this man was desperately trying to keep his sobs quiet, taking off his glasses to wipe away tears with the back of his hand to not wake her up. he was clearly losing the battle, though. last time he cried like this was after your labor during skin to skin. ( the picture you took if it already his favorite, decorating the lock screen of his phone. )

“she’s growing up so fast,” he managed, voice cracking.

rodolfo parra, the respectable sergeant major of los vaqueros who was trained to be cold and show no mercy on duty, was weeping because of a newborn baby that was nowhere near fifteen years old and currently drooling onto his shirt completely oblivious of her father's sorrow.

you blinked, baffled. “...she's barely three weeks old.”

“¡por eso!” he cried, his face scrunching up in anguish. absolutely heartbroken about how fast time goes. she was out the womb yesterday, whining on your chest while the nurses cleaned her up and now she's already three weeks old? when did that even happen!

maybe it was this new type of love—one that he has never felt before—that filled his heart as soon as he found out he was gonna be a dad, the fact that he would already do anything for his little princess of maybe the fact he was still overwhelmed or the fact that his parental leave comes to an end in nine weeks that made him so emotional.

sure, that sounds like a lot but it sure as hell don't feel like it.

how is he supposed to go back to the base, work and focus when the love of his life is spending the day with the other tiny love of his life, at home being all warm and cozy and cute and—ugh! it sounds like a bad joke but sadly it'll be his routine.

“look at ‘er…” he sniffed, trailing his eyes down her tiny face. she's so adorable he wanted to scream into a pillow and protect her from all the awful shit that happens daily, give her the best life she could ever have and show her that she is and will always be the most important thing in his whole entire world.

how can you even comfort a forty-five year old man that's crying for something that's gonna happen in more than a decade?

well, better find a way soon because it's gonna happen reaaaaaally often.

masterlist

[otaku-orochi-okami]

Yo, u fuckin’ disgusting, cum-slurping, shit-smeared, pimple-popping, motherless fuckwit, u really think u can just waltz into my fuckin’ domain and expect me to play nice like some prissy-ass TikTok thot? LMAOOOOO, u absolute walking abortion, u ain’t even fit to lick the crusty jizz off ur own keyboard! I’m PussySlayer69_XD, the most vicious, ball-crushing, cunt-kicking queen of /b/, and ur just a drooling, dickless, brain-dead pile of human garbage who’d get laughed outta every thread from /pol/ to /r9k/ before u could even type “kys.” 😈💦💦 U think anybody gives a single runny shit about u? Bitch, ur own mom tried to sell u for a pack of smokes, and even the crackheads said no. Ur a festering anal wart, a cum-stained diaper dumped in the internet’s filthiest sewer, and I’m bout to flush u so hard u’ll wish u were never shat into existence. 🖕

Nobody likes u, u greasy, neckbeard, cum-encrusted, mouth-breathing fucktard. Not ur family, who disowned u the second u slimed outta the womb. Not ur “friends,” who only exist in ur delusional incel fantasies. Not even the flies buzzing around ur unwashed ass. Bet u spend ur nights jerking ur shriveled microdick to the nastiest loli hentai while sobbing about how ur crush with some bland ass fucking name like Stacy fucked Chad instead of u. Spoiler, dipshit: Stacy’s too busy gargling Chad’s balls to even know ur sorry ass exists. Ur life’s a bigger L than a Reddit mod’s entire existence, and u fuckin’ know it. Ur so pathetic u make sad Wojak look like a gigachad, u soy-chugging, beta-cuck, retard reject who’d trip over his own ego and drown in his own tears. 🤣

Let’s keep it 100, u absolute cumrag of a retard—ur the human equivalent of a used condom floating in a truck stop toilet. I’d doxx u, but I don’t need to waste my time digging up ur deets when nobody wants anything to do wiv u. Ur still probably shaking in ur piss-stained undies just thinking about it tho, u spineless fuck. Ur self worth is pure dogshit, but go ahead and prove me wrong, clapback wiv sumthing u typed with ur crusty, cum-covered fingers while sniffing ur own rancid ball sweat. Ur personality? Bitch, u don’t have one—ur just a void, a black hole of cringe so deep it sucks in light and hope. Ur future? LMAO, u’ll be 60, still jerking it in ur mom’s moldy basement, whining about “Jews putting fluoride in my Monster” while u fap to AI-generated furry porn u paid for with ur last food stamp. 😏

Everyone hates u, u acne-riddled, shit-sniffing, cock-gobbling moron. Ur teachers gave up when u flunked coloring inside the lines in kindergarten. Ur classmates? They’re still cackling about how u shat urself during recess and blamed it on “gluten intolerance.” Everyone thinks ur a try-hard fag who deserves to get skull-fucked by a malware bot. U got no spine, no balls, no brain—just a sad little incel vibe that screams “I hate myself more than u ever could!” 😈 Ur so irrelevant u couldn’t get a single upvote on social media, even if u sold ur kidney to pay for bots. Ur whole existence is a meme, but not the funny kind—the “holy shit, this guy’s a walking abortion” kind that gets screencapped and roasted for decades.

Ur nothing but a brain-dead, ass-licking, cum-chugging, fucknugget retard. What’re u gonna do, cry to ur mommy? “Wah, the mean 4chan girlie hurt my widdle feewings!” Boo-fuckin’-hoo, u brittle-ass, snowflake bitch. I’m out here triggering cunts like u before I even finish my Monster, and u ain’t even worth a single “lulz.” I could shitpost u into the fuckin’ void, flood every board with ur pathetic existence, and make u the punchline of every edgy meme from /b/ to /gif/. Ur so easy to bully it’s like kicking a puppy with no legs—kinda sad, but fuck it, u deserve it, u knuckle-dragging, shit-eating, no-dick-having loser. 🖕

Ur self-worth? Bitch, that shit died when the doctor slapped ur ugly-ass face and said, “Fuck, we gotta throw this one back!” U look like u were conceived in a gangbang between a landfill, a porta-potty, and a diseased foot. Ur so ugly ur mirror shatters itself to avoid reflecting ur pus-oozing, greasy-ass mug. 😭 Go ahead, stare at urself—if u can stomach the sight of ur cratered, neckbeard face—and tell urself u matter. Spoiler: u don’t. Ur a zero, a nada, a fuckin’ black hole where a soul should be. Ur the kinda guy who’d get catfished by a 50-year-old dude pretending to be an e-girl and send him ur McDonald’s paycheck. 🤣

But wait, I ain’t done, u drooling, cum-stained, ass-fucking reject. Ur so pathetic u’d get ratio’d by a spam bot with a broken algorithm. Ur the kinda loser who’d trip over his own shoelaces and cry about “systemic oppression.” I could drag ur sorry ass through every dark corner of the internet, from 4chan’s shittiest threads to the most cursed tumblr posts, and make u the laughingstock of every anon and troll from here to hell. Ur dreams? Lmao, u don’t have any, unless u count jerking off to “based” Pepe memes while u sob about “white genocide.” Ur hopes? Crushed. Ur dignity? Bitch, u never had any. 😈 I’m shitting on u so hard rn u’ll need a hazmat suit to crawl outta this roast, u filthy, cock-sucking, retard reject.

And u know what’s worse? Ur so fuckin’ boring u can’t even make me mad. Ur just a sad little speck, a cum-crusted footnote in the internet’s septic tank. I bet u sit there, refreshing threads, praying for a single interaction to validate ur miserable existence. Well, here’s ur interaction, u pathetic fuck: u ain’t shit, u never were shit, and u never will be shit. 😜 Keep begging for my attention, u masochistic, ball-less cunt—u think u can handle more? U can’t even handle wiping ur own ass without a Reddit guide. Run back to ur safe space, u spineless, dickless, brainless fuck, or I’ll keep shitting on u till u got nothing left but tears and a broken ego. 😎

What’s it gonna be, u sniveling, cum-gargling, shit-licking bitch? U gonna keep whining for me to roast u, or u gonna crawl away like the roach u are? Either way, ur a fuckin’ nobody, and I’m PussySlayer69_XD, the baddest, most savage troll this side of the fuckin’ internet. I’ll yeet ur worthless ass into the void where u belong, u pathetic, cock-chugging, anus-sniffing loser. 💦 Ur life’s a joke, and I’m the punchline, u no-dick, no-hope, no-future fuckwit. Now fuck off before I make u my personal shitpost piñata and beat what’s left of ur sad little ego into fuckin’ dust. 😈🖕💦

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;) 

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here 

“Great. See you then.” 

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer. 

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…” 

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long. 

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction. 

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends. 

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters. 

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.” 

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up. 

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—” 

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.” 

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you. 

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.” 

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.” 

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in. 

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion. 

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to. 

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!” 

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone. 

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion. 

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.” 

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life. 

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong. 

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare. 

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation. 

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends. 

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option. 

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station. 

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal. 

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort. 

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you? 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.” 

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve. 

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!” 

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.” 

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.” 

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again. 

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.” 

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.” 

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!” 

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.” 

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined. 

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips. 

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again. 

6:58. 

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute. 

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards. 

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you. 

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane. 

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you. 

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took. 

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner. 

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain. 

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face. 

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze. 

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind. 

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.” 

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up. 

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer. 

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script. 

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned? 

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced. 

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.” 

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?” 

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it. 

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.” 

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify. 

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make. 

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one. 

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it. 

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?” 

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened. 

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification. 

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you. 

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.” 

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name? 

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him. 

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath. 

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.” 

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you. 

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?” 

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.” 

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.” 

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too. 

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.” 

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder. 

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder. 

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.” 

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips. 

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked. 

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson. 

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.” 

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.” 

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?” 

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.” 

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined. 

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.” 

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.” 

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away. 

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder. 

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!” 

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you. 

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk. 

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye. 

“What?” he grunted. 

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence. 

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word. 

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car. 

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage. 

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen. 

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk. 

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest. 

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way. 

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car. 

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation. 

Except… it never came. 

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise. 

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine. 

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago. 

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes. 

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car. 

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble. 

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.” 

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.” 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.” 

You frowned. “But you said—” 

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.” 

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about. 

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window. 

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything. 

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm. 

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already. 

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim. 

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth. 

This was it. 

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson. 

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car. 

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.” 

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that. 

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you. 

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.” 

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language. 

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.” 

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one. 

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. 

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located. 

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?” 

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.” 

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner? 

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod. 

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time. 

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you. 

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.” 

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside. 

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.” 

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.” 

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid. 

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point. 

He really didn’t want you going anywhere. 

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all. 

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap. 

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition. 

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.” 

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.” 

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate? 

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?” 

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing. 

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly. 

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over. 

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it. 

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street. 

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window. 

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation. 

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.” 

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.” 

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life. 

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.” 

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort. 

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?” 

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink. 

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting. 

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers. 

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car. 

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” 

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—” 

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.” 

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest. 

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat. 

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?” 

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.” 

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency? 

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply. 

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. 

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach. 

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you. 

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion. 

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel. 

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again. 

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert. 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.” 

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?” 

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it. 

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go. 

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck. 

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way. 

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat. 

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper. 

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.” 

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground. 

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut. 

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete. 

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh. 

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.” 

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you. 

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you. 

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel. 

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him. 

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall. 

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight. 

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air. 

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.” 

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box. 

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you. 

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.” 

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.” 

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…” 

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth. 

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth. 

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue. 

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.” 

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself. 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken. 

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap. 

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again. 

“Katsuki.” 

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.” 

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response. 

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue. 

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite. 

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding. 

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable. 

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far. 

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you. 

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy. 

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it. 

“You have a healing quirk.” 

The words hit you like a sledgehammer. 

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them. 

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.” 

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread. 

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now. 

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened. 

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?” 

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck. 

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud. 

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate. 

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.” 

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms. 

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.” 

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?” 

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…” 

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him. 

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it. 

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you. 

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.” 

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you. 

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.” 

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.” 

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?” 

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out. 

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.” 

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?” 

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.” 

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.” 

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?” 

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.” 

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks. 

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?” 

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you. 

Then… 

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.” 

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan… 

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours. 

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.” 

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet… 

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing. 

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?” 

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.” 

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing. 

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.” 

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.” 

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.” 

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!” 

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his. 

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you. 

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?” 

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips. 

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow. 

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.” 

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—” 

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.” 

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten. 

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater. 

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—” 

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again. 

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?” 

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade. 

His silence for your quirk. 

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop. 

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you. 

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other. 

But… 

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.” 

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

[snowstark]

Anon with the arts v stem bs for you, could you write a thing where Peter is in your position trying to write an essay when his brain Just Won't Work Right To Do The Words and he asks Tony for help and Tony's like *cracks knuckles* "get on your knees, baby boy, I'm writing this whole thing for you and you're gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I'm done"

my god i saw this at like 7 am and went “shit, yes. i have to write this” before passing the fuck back out until 10. also sorry it’s late, i got carried away 

we say thank you, we say please.

you can also read on ao3!

“Ugh!”

Tony glanced over at yet another one of Peter’s noises of complaint. They had grown in severity and loudness over the past few minutes, and the angry crinkle in Peter’s forehead told him just how frustrated the younger boy was.

“Fuck!”

Tony sniffed a smile, amused. “You doin’ okay, baby?”

“No,” Peter bit back, slamming his forehead onto the desk. “This stupid essay isn’t working out. Why am I even writing an essay? Isn’t the whole point of science to experiment?”

“And reflect on your findings,” Tony corrected with a roll of his eyes. He got up from his seat and came over, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. “Lemme see what you have.”

“Be my guest.” Peter tried to get up, but stilled when Tony shoved him back down.

Humming, Tony read over the introduction Peter had managed to craft, then wordlessly reached out and highlighted the whole thing before deleting it.

“Hey!”

“Hm?” Tony smiled at him sweetly.

“Why’d you do that?” Peter seethed with a pout.

“Because it was trash,” Tony replied. “And I know you know that it was.” He held Peter’s gaze until the fire in it died down a bit, and waited until Peter dropped his gaze.

Miserably, the younger boy picked at his nails. “I’m gonna fail this course. I’m not smart enough.”

“Don’t say that.” Tony’s voice was sharp. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again; you hear me?”

Silence, then a petulant look.

Something Tony clicked. He reached out, slid a hand through Peter’s soft curls, and tightened his hand into a fist, pulling hard enough for Peter to hiss through his teeth. “I said, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Peter muttered. “Ow! You’re gonna pull my hair out if you don’t—ow, yes! Yes, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” Tony eyed Peter for a few more seconds, then let go. “You should start off with the basics. Think of a good hook, but don’t you dare try and make a statement about society or some shit like that. Profs hate it.”

“I can’tttt,” Peter whined. “It just doesn’t work.” He turned to look at Tony with his best puppy eyes. “Maybe you could write it for me.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, honey, hilarious. Now you want to commit an academic offense.”

Peter glared. “This entire essay is an offense! To me! And if you don’t help me, I’m going to fail, Tony. Okay? I’m gonna get a big, fat, ugly zero—”

“You sure you want me to help?” Tony interrupted, a wicked, filthy plan suddenly forming in his mind. He nudged Peter out of his seat and sat down, appraising him, mouth already watering in anticipation. “Because you know I don’t do things for free, sweetheart. You’ll need to pay me back somehow, show me how grateful you are.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that massage you’ve been asking for—”

Tony barked out a laugh that silenced him. He let his hands drop to the buttons on his jeans, enjoying the way Peter’s eyes immediately followed the movement. “Oh, no, no, no, baby. That’s not what I’m asking for.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his dick, and looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Peter immediately said. Tony didn’t miss the way he sounded a little more strained now, eyes still fixed on the tent in Tony’s boxers. “I’ll pay you back.”

Tony smirked, then snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees, baby boy. I’m writing this whole thing for you and you’re gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I’m done.”

Peter dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and looked up at Tony expectantly, licking his lips.

“You know what I love about you, honey?” Tony drawled, sprawling his legs wide open, enjoying the way Peter immediately leaned closer. He pushed a hand through his hair again and leaned close so that they were nose-to-nose.

Peter tried to kiss him, almost instinctively, and Tony laughed before gently pushing him away. “You’re always so”—Tony yanked his head back harshly with the grip on his hair, eliciting a gasp—“fucking”—A sharp slap to his face, making Peter moan—“grateful.” A caress now, to counter the heat blooming in Peter’s cheek. “Isn’t that right?” He ran the pad of his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip.

Peter stared up at him adoringly in response, eyes wide.

The boy was already completely out of it, Tony noted with amusement. So responsive. Beautiful. He let his thumb brush against his flushed cheeks before sitting back and gesturing to the zipper on his pants.

“Go on, then,” he murmured, watching Peter’s eyes flash eagerly. “I undid the button for you, didn’t I? I think you can do the rest by yourself.” He stopped Peter with a hum when the boy reached out with his hands, and he shook his head. “No, baby. With your teeth.”

Peter swallowed, then obediently wriggled forwards and mouthed at the zipper, trying to get a good grip on it with his mouth.

Tony watched him for a few moments before reaching out to pet his hair as silent encouragement. It took Peter a few more seconds before he managed to pull it down, and Tony grinned when the boy immediately nuzzled closer, mouthing at his cock almost hungrily.

Tony pulled him back a bit before holding a hand out in front of Peter. “Spit.” Once Peter obeyed, he took himself in his hand and stroked in long, lazy motions, not taking his eyes off of the boy for a single moment. After a few minutes, Peter began to make impatient little noises at the back of his throat, just as Tony had expected him to.

“Needy thing,” Tony crooned, then smacked Peter’s face with his dick, making the sub jolt. Peter looked up, eyes glazed over, practically whacked into submission now. “Open up. I wanna see you gagging on it, you hear me? Don’t you dare try and slack off.”

Peter nodded in quick little jerks of his head, mouth falling open immediately at the order.

Tony fed his cock into Peter’s mouth inch by inch, wet and warm and ready for him, until Peter had taken him into his mouth nearly completely. He ran a hand through the sub’s curls, then shifted, feeling his cock hit the back of Peter’s throat, and pulled the laptop closer to him. He felt Peter’s cheeks hollow as he tried to swallow in vain around his cock, and Tony cursed quietly under his breath at the spasm of Peter’s throat.

Right. The essay.

He sucked the inside of his cheek, thinking, before beginning to type.

Biophysics is critical to our understanding of the mechanics of the molecules in our lives, and how complex systems and beings function, which, according to—

Tony stopped when Peter’s cheeks hollowed yet again and he looked down, raising an eyebrow. “You need something?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head as best as he could, then pulled back to wipe the drool on his chin with the back of his hand. “Just—was just tryin’ to swallow, Daddy.” God, he already sounded wrecked, voice rough and throaty.

“What, embarrassed that you were making a mess of yourself?” Tony chuckled, then shoved his hand into Peter’s hair before yanking him back onto his dick. “Stay. There. Your job is to be the filthy, needy thing you are while being grateful for what I’m giving you. Remember what I said about wanting your mouth to be stuffed with it until I’m done? You think I was joking about that?”

A small whine; Tony gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was feeling generous today and assumed it was a ‘no.’

He went back to work after that, and for the next half hour, the only sounds that filled up the room was his typing and the occasional little noise Peter made, whether it be a small exhale from his nose or an attempted swallow of his throat.

He took the time to finish, then ran through it three times to edit it. After the last run, he finally—finally—looked down at Peter, whose eyes were closed, eyelashes occasionally fluttering with each shallow inhale he took through his nose.

Tony rested his hand on Peter’s head, watching him, then murmured, “Good boy. Get me off now, sweetheart. Show Daddy how good you can be.”

Peter was more than eager to obey, and in less than five minutes, Tony was swearing under his breath, hips canting without his permission, and he could barely stutter out a warning before he came down Peter’s throat.

Peter took it like a champ, swallowing every drop and only pulling off when Tony made him. Panting, he looked up at Tony, eyes wide and teary.

Tony brushed a thumb over his cheek for a few moments, then murmured, “Good boy.”

When Peter reached for his leaking, red cock, Tony snapped sharply, “Ah-ah! What’re you doing? You think you deserve to get off by yourself? No, baby, you have to earn that.”

Peter looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “But I—” He gestured vaguely to Tony.

“What, made me come?” Tony rolled his eyes. “No, sweetheart. That was just you thanking me for writing your essay. All you had to do was drool all over my cock and show me how grateful you were for my generosity. Not exactly a hard feat like, say, writing an essay, is it? Not for a greedy little thing like you, at least.”

Peter stared at him, jaw slack and hanging open.

Tony grinned, and it was mean. “This, though...” He reached down and formed a loose ‘o’ with his hand, stroking Peter’s cock from the base to the head in one easy, smooth motion. “We’ll see about this. Get on the bed.”

Peter immediately scrambled to obey, and Tony’s grin grew.

Oh, he was going to make Peter beg, and enjoy every single moment of it.

__________

A few weeks later, Peter came marching up to Tony’s desk, then slapped down a package of paper.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter jabbed his index finger at the 98%, written and circled in red, at the top of the first page. “My essay,” he said, proudly, making Tony bite back a laugh.

“A ninety-eight,” Tony mused, picking it up and leafing through it. “Not bad, huh?”

“It’s perfect.” Peter maneuvered himself onto his lap, straddling him and mouthing along his neck.

“Two percent away from perfect.” Tony tossed the paper back onto the desk and let his hands drift down to squeeze Peter’s ass, hard enough for his nails to dig in even through the sweatpants. “Should’ve been a hundred. Must’ve lost a mark or two ‘cause your mouth distracted me.”

“Not my fault I’m so good,” Peter chirped.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, good at being a filthy slut.”

Peter ignored him. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll get that hundred for me.”

Grinning, Tony pulled back to look at Peter’s face, then kissed him, wet and hard and sloppy. Peter’s chest was heaving by the time they pulled apart, and he pushed his thumb through his lips and into his mouth, watching him suck languidly for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, baby boy. You’re right. There’s always next time.”

Because they both knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

[stories-to-tell-by-lantern-light]

Who Am I Really?

(Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Iron was all he could taste, as he hugged his arms close to his chest. The white snow that speckled the forest floor contrasted greatly with his newly acquired ash-grey skin. He could feel blood crusting under his fingernails, he could feel the sting of the cold snow underneath his bare feet as he walked. Whatever they did to him, he was no longer human that much was clear, his feet turned more animal-like and had ripped through his old shoes. If he was being honest with himself he knew that from the moment he awoke and could still see that he was no longer human.

Jack Nichols shivered as he caressed the hollow sockets where his eyes should’ve been. They were dripping with the black tar that was mercilessly poured in there by Jenny and her cult.

‘That absolute fucking bitch.’ He thought, and an animal-like snarl tore through his throat. He could feel the stretching and popping of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Killing her and her stupid friends was therapeutic to him, remembering the taste of their blood as it filled his mouth when he tore out their throats made him feel euphoric. Pausing his steps only for a brief moment he let those memories of eating their flesh and organs consume him, it only served to make his mouth water.

What was wrong with him? Why did that memory, which happened only hours ago, make him so god damn hungry? What exactly had they done to him, as much as he tried not to dwell on that thought the hunger that ate away at him even after the slaughter was almost too much to handle. All Jack wanted when he woke up this morning was to go on a date with a cute girl, get a little drunk, and maybe get lucky (though realistically that was just wishful thinking). The true college experience one might say, even for a med student. Especially with a schedule as busy as his...that was as busy as his. He knew he should’ve just stuck to focusing on school and studying his brain out, god why did he have to listen to his friends as they urged him on the date.

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

This. This was clearly the worst possible outcome.

What he really couldn’t believe, however, was that he allowed one of the cultists to get a hit on him, and a bad one at that. Turning his head to glance down at the tear in his thigh, it was a deep gash that desperately needed to get medical attention and fast. The only problem the former medical student faced was that whatever was pouring out of his leg wasn’t blood. It was a deep black ooze that stained the white snow that littered the forest floor. In fact, Jack wasn’t even sure if normal medical supplies would even heal his wound. Jack grit his teeth trudging onwards into the forest, a faint buzzing reverberated around in his skull like flies buzzing around a corpse that he couldn’t seem to shake.

He placed his hand against a tree the world spinning around him. Whatever the blood-like substance that was pouring out of his leg was, he was losing it fast. Jack heard the crunching of snow in front of him and a small gasp. It took most of his strength but he picked his head up and snarled. Jack bared his teeth and tried to make himself look as dangerous as possible, he felt like a wild animal that was cornered by the hunter. There was a girl in front of him, she had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was stuffed under a furry winter hat. She took a few steps back, her brown snow boots making giant footprints in her wake. He could hear the blood flowing through this girl’s veins, as her anxiety levels seemed to spike. The anxiety caused her heartbeat to quicken drastically, hearing the sound only served to increase Jack’s seemingly ceaseless hunger. Jack tried to take another step towards her, flexing the sharp nails on his hands but collapsed under his own weight, his fucking leg. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“What are you?” The girl’s voice held a slight quiver to it and Jack could feel her sharp eyes burning holes into his body. He watched as she hesitantly took a step closer, her (f/c) parka standing out against the muted colors of the forest.

“I don’t know.” He responded with a raspy breath, she smelled divine but he had no strength to attack. Something in his bones told him that he was beyond human, something so much more, a god perhaps? What a silly thought that he couldn’t shake away. Through his quickly blurring vision, he swore he could make out a pair of fancy dress shoes a little bit behind the girl. He saw the girl drop to her knees and cover her ears, his vision went black and the sound of static accompanied the darkness.

---

Jack was expecting to be dead. He expected to be accompanied by beautiful white light, maybe an angel or something. However, it caught him very off guard when he suddenly awoke in a rather plush bed. He threw the plaid covers off himself unceremoniously and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The baby god never got far because he let out a howl of pain as a sharp sensation traveled up his thigh. Shit right, his entire upper thigh was practically ripped open. He forgot all about that, glancing down at his wound he noticed it was wrapped tightly in medical bandages and he assumed it was stitched up underneath the dressings. Whoever fixed the wound seemed to have done at least a semi-decent job, at least he wasn’t dead. Sniffing the air with his newly acquired sense of smell he could make out the distinct smell of humans and...was that lavender?

Jack felt his stomach growl and he doubled over clutching it. They smelled delicious. He could practically hear their organs singing out to him, rip open the human, steal us, devour us.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the door opening, in the middle of the doorway stood the exact girl he’d seen in the forest. Immediately going on the defense he bared his teeth opening his jaw as wide as he could, he heard the popping sound of his jaw as it extended, he felt something swirl around in his mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine at the unwelcomed sensation.

Did he have more than one tongue?

Shaking the thought away Jack didn’t move to attack, he was never the type. He would always rather listen to rationality before getting his hands dirty, the only issue was he was starving and the girl would absolutely make a fine meal.

“Don’t try demon.” The girl scoffed eyeing Jack up and down, if he was still his old college self he would’ve gotten flustered at the gesture. A girl showing him attention? Unheard of back them. However, after Jenny, he was almost positive he’d never let that happen again. His sockets looked down at what the girl held in her hands, it was a plate, a plate that had kidneys on top of it. He was only mildly aware of the fact that he was drooling all over himself. “Oh gross.” She scrunched up her nose placing the organs on the bottom of the bed.

Without hesitation, Jack attacked the cold meat shoving it in his mouth with vigor. He knew blood was all over his face and hands but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack knew the girl’s calculated eyes were watching his every move, even so, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as the food slid down his throat. Once the meal was finished and Jack was satisfied he finally felt he had enough strength to start asking questions.

“Who are you?” He rasped, whipping his mouth with the back of what was left of his sleeve.

“Really? You’re asking ME that question.”

“I’m not a fan of your attitude.”

“I’m not a fan of you bleeding out on my property.”

Jack growled low and guttural.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” The girl had the audacity to laugh in his face was she not aware of what he was capable of now?

“Nice try but I’m not scared of you. You’re not allowed to hurt me as long as you’re under my care.” She pointed to herself with her thumb, puffing out her chest a little however he could hear her pulse increase just the slightest bit.

Jack only scowled.

“What pray tell is exactly stopping me?” He raised an eyebrow watching carefully as the girl lifted up her sleeve to her sweater. Scared into her wrist was a symbol that Jack had never seen before in his life, but for some unknown reason, he felt dread wash over him. Carved into her wrist was an O with an X slashed through it. “What’s that supposed to prove exactly? That you’re into weird tattoos?”

The (h/c)-ette let out a loud sigh like this conversation was boring her. Oh he’s sorry it’s not his fault he was turned into a fucking organ-eating monster by a cult at his local college! If he still had his eyes they would be rolling so far back into his skull, yet he still waited for the girl to explain.

“My name is (y/n), I’m a medical proxy under The Operator. Currently one of the only ones he has left because we keep getting killed off by rogue killers.” The girl, (y/n), clicked her tongue in clear distaste at the mention of said killers. “Since I’m under The Operator it means if you kill me, he’ll kill you, that’s the deal Jacky boy.” That put him on high alert.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“You’re certainly full of questions for someone just waking up out of a coma. If you must know The Operator gave me a brief rundown of your file after we found you in the woods.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest “It’s your lucky day because you just got hired to work for him.” She gave him a round of applause, but it sounded more mocking than serious and he only grew more confused.

“This doesn't make any sense to me. I hope you’re aware.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. It’ll all be explained in due time. For now, all you have to focus on is getting better so you can begin your training. Lucky for you, I’m your registered nurse and caregiver, so enjoy your stay at castle de la (Y/n). Trust me when I say you should value your time here while you still have it.” A thousand more questions ran through Jack’s mind and his little question and answer session with his self-proclaimed nurse didn’t really help.

“So you’re a med student then?” She made a noise of affirmation picking at the strings of her sweater.

“Was a med student Jack, that pretty much came to a screeching halt after I was scouted by the boss man. That, however,” He watched as (Y/n) put a hand to her lips signaling him to stop asking questions, “Is a story for another day. The first order of business now that you’ve eaten is a shower. Cause no offense but you smell like dried blood, and coming from me that’s saying something cause I smell blood all the time.”

Jack still didn’t trust this stranger fully and it got under his skin that she seemed to know everything about him and he knew next to nothing about her. Yet, a shower did seem nice at this moment, he glanced down at his hands and noticed his nails were caked with dry blood. He could only imagine what every other part of his body looked like, (y/n) clearly didn’t bother cleaning him up aside from dressing his wounds.

“A shower sounds good.” Jack nodded in confirmation and the girl gave a relieved smile.

“Oh thank God you agreed, it took me a week of convincing to get Jeff to go take his first shower.” Jack decided it was best not to ask who Jeff was deciding that that was a can of worms he shouldn’t open just yet. She reached out to touch him and he immediately recoiled back almost biting her handoff, the smile that appeared disappeared into a frown.

“Don’t touch me.” Memories of Jenny’s friends holding him down while he pleaded for his life flashed across his mind. The blade coming closer and closer to Jack’s crystal blue eyes before making contact and-

“Alright, cannibal boy snap out of it. Can’t have you succumbing to blood lust just yet. You don’t wanna injure yourself more.” (Y/n) snapped her fingers next to his ears and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she snapped him out of his stupor. “I was going to help you to the bathroom because you really shouldn’t put pressure on your leg. Is that okay?”

Jack felt himself nodding reluctantly. She was right, he really shouldn’t put stress on his leg or it could cause more harm than good. Especially since he didn’t know the extent of the injury yet, for all he knew he was lucky they didn’t hit the femoral artery. Her arms went around his waist as the god and the human girl hobbled to the bathroom together. On the short walk there Jack was trying to get a feel of the house, in case he needed to make a grand escape in the future.

“I’ll put some fresh clothes outside the door for you, call for me when you’re done so I can help you back to the bedroom.” (Y/n) explained as Jack hobbled into the bathroom, he didn’t feel the need to respond to her as he shut the door in her face. He heard a faint click of a tongue from the other side of the door and listened to the girls retreating footsteps.

Jack leaned against the sink putting most of his weight on his hands. The sink creaked at the newfound pressure and Jack wasn’t sure it was because it was an old house or because he had newfound strength. He glanced up at the mirror, it was weird somewhat seeing when you had absolutely no eyes. It was the first time since the incident he got a good look at himself, he looked about as good as he felt.

Terrible.

His auburn hair curled around his now pointed ears and was caked in mud and dirt. He was almost grateful that (y/n) didn’t touch him aside from the wound while he was unconscious, Jack couldn’t imagine what he might’ve done if he felt anyone go near his face. Speaking of his face, he opened his mouth and saw his teeth were shaved into razor-sharp fangs. His stomach turned as he remembered the exact reason why they were like that, organs. They were like that so he could eat organs. The thought wasn’t nearly as nauseating as it should’ve been.

His skin was unnatural and sickly grey color, as he lifted up his shirt the color seemed to spread all the way down his body. He glanced down at his hands and saw his nails were long and black, almost like those girls who wore acrylics, except he was sure their nails couldn’t rip into people's chests with a single swipe. Continuing down his body he lifted up one of his padded feet, he was correct in his assumption from earlier. They were much more animal-like, he wondered if they made him faster, what purpose could they possibly serve other than that?

Gently letting his footfall back down on the floor he shuffled to the shower and turned it on, the water sprayed out in a burst and he patiently waited for it to heat up. Eventually, he was able to step inside, not before knocking his head not only against the curtain rod but also on the showerhead.

“Fuck!” He snarled glaring down at the showerhead. Jack did a little double-take, okay he was also super tall, at least he got one blessing out of whatever the fuck was happening. Jack had to kneel on the ground in order to let the water roll down his body, with a deep breath he enjoyed the warm water pelting his skin. He fumbled around with the shampoo trying to figure out how to open it without popping a hole in the container. As the lid popped open he was hit with the calming scent of lavender.

~~~

“We’ll send someone to come back and check on him in about a month give or take, see how he’s adjusting and healing.” A figure spoke from the kitchen shaking a cigarette into an ashtray, as (y/n) stood across from him. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair “Then we’ll reassess him, give him a test and see if he’s fit to come to the mansion.” Meanwhile, the girl heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against the cool tiles of her kitchen wall.

“So it’s gonna be my responsibility to explain everything that’s happening to him? Isn’t that supposed to be your job Tim?” (y/n) raised an eyebrow “You realize he’s, like, almost seven feet tall, has no eyes and eats organs right? I’m not even sure WHAT he is.” She muttered, “The rundown I got really only gave me his background and his clear trauma.”

Tim clicked his tongue like the girl in front of him was wasting his time, it made her ball up her fists subconsciously.

God, the main proxies really got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

“You won’t have to worry about that, The Operator will handle all of that throughout the coming weeks. No need to worry. You also don’t need to worry about harvesting organs for him, and hopefully, once he’s healed he’ll work on doing that himself. But for now, someone on a kill close by will be dropping off organs.” Tim’s nose scrunched up a little and the (h/c)-nette’s did the same, she normally prided herself on her strong stomach, but this was a lot even for her. “The only thing you have to do is monitor his eating, see how much he will need on a weekly basis, and obviously keep him alive.”

“Obviously.” They both seemed to have a mutual understanding about that at least, she fucks up and he dies they’re both in deep shit with The Operator. Tim reached to the side where his porcelain mask sat against the countertop.

“Don’t fuck it up.” He pointed to her before slipping out the door leaving the women alone with an organ-eating monster. (Y/n) mimicked ‘don’t fuck it up' in a nasal voice before kicking off the wall and heading back in the direction of her guest's room, she pulled out a pair of crutches from the closet and rested them by the bedside. She gently scratched at the faintly buzzing symbol on her wrist, this is going to be a long month.

[moolovesyou]

Crush Culture | JJ Maybank

Request: Hey i really really love your write it's so good,can i request a imagine with jj please? like they are friends since kids and start catching feelings for each other and all this tension between then

Author’s Note: this was fun. i hope i you like it :D thank you for requesting!! 

Genre/Type: Fluff

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1,629

  “JJ GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I tried to sound angry but failed when I laughed. I couldn’t breathe. JJ was tickling my sides and I couldn’t take it. I snorted loudly, which caused him to stop. He fell back laughing at the noise I let out. I pouted crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’re mean...” I shoved my face into a pillow, trying to hide my flushed face. 

“Nooooo, don’t hide.” He flipped me over, but I still held the pillow to my face. “It was adorable.” I could hear the smirk in his voice. My face reddened even more.

“JJ! Come out here and help me mow the grass. I can barely walk around here without grass poking at my ankles...” Pope complained. JJ groaned, mimicking Pope.

“I’ll be back for you.” He deepened his voice, causing both of us to giggle. Once I heard the door close, I took the pillow off my face. 

Recently, I’ve been feeling different about JJ. And I’ve known him since the womb basically. We used to play in the same park everyday when we were younger. Then it turned to constant play dates. And then going to the same school. We were inseparable. He was very protective of me.

                                               <+++>

I skipped over to the swings, where JJ was going to meet me. It was a Saturday so we always go out to play. I was rocking back and forth before I was shoved off the swing.

“Ow! JJ that was mean...” I rubbed my scraped knee, my lip quivering. I looked up and noticed it wasn’t JJ. It was one of the mean rich kids, Rafe or something...

“Your little boyfriend isn’t here.” He mocked me. Two of his friends snickered behind him. “This is our park, go back to your bust in the cut.”

I stood up abruptly, walking away with my head down. I felt a hand grab mine. I looked behind me and saw the familiar blue-eyed boy I knew. His face was red. He gripped onto my hand and pulled me back to the swing set.

“Hey Rafe, you can’t tell us what to do! I can go into whatever park I want around here.” JJ hissed. The other kids laughed. I rolled my eyes at them.

“I’ll get my dad to kick your butt outta here.” Rafe shot back. JJ let go of my hand, his fist clenching. Instead of punching him, he pushed Rafe down to the ground.

“Yeah, go and run off to your daddy.” 

Rafe stood back up, his face fuming. He was as angry as much as a 9-year-old could be. He looked back at his friends. The three of them all leaned down grabbing some pebbles and rocks from the ground. They launched the rocks at us. JJ ran over to me, grabbing my hand and running away. We laughed, hearing the kids grumbling in the back.

“Did you see the look on his face!” I snickered, heaving from running. JJ snorted. 

“I love messing with that idiot.” He boasted. His face dropped when he looked at my knee. “You’re bleeding! Come on, we need to go get you fixed up. I’ll also need to kiss it to make sure it won’t hurt.” He pecked my knee, looking back up at me with a determined look.

I nodded. “It worked!” I hugged him tightly. He smiled widely.

                                                     <+++>

We used to be able to hug and kiss each other on the cheek without thinking twice about it. Now, it had a weird tension. He’d hug me and linger for more than before. I’d kiss his cheek and they would flush with a peachy color. Kie would even tease me about it, but I wouldn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what was happening between us. 

I heard a ruckus outside, so I got up and went out. John B and Kie were throwing stuff at each other and cackling. I saw Pope mowing on the east side of the lawn. Then I looked over and saw JJ. My breath hitched. I had to lean on the door frame.

His hair was hanging over his face. His eyebrows were furrowed deep in concentration. His hands gripped the handle of the lawnmower tightly. The veins on his biceps popped out. My eyes trailed down to his abs. Am I drooling? It was like he was perfectly sculpted. I felt a coil in my chest springing. 

“Hellooooo? Earth to Y/N?” I heard JB’s voice tease me. Kie was waving her hand in my face. I moaned on accident, making my eyes widen. I buried my face in my hands.

“What is going on with me...?” 

“I can’t help but think you have a little crush on our JJ” Kie poked fun at me. I scoffed.

“Before you defend yourself, maybe you don’t believe you have a crush on him. Maybe you don’t wanna admit it.” John B pointed at me, an eyebrow raised at me. I stuck my tongue out at them.

“Yeah, you guys can dream it.” I flipped them off. 

“What are we talking about?” JJ walked over, wiping his sweat down with a towel. I looked down to avert my eyes from the godly sight in front of me.

“Well, Y/N-”

“THE ROYAL MERCHANT! We should definitely go back tomorrow morning to find it...We could be lucky this time.”

“I’ll go, I got nothing else to do anyways.” He rubbed his hands together menacingly. 

“Greeeat...”

“Well, I can’t go I have to help my dad at The Wreck.” Kie shrugged.

“Yeah, and I have to work out a problem with foster care y’know..” John B added. Oh, I see what they’re doing. These little shits.

“I think I can go-” Pope began, but both Kie and John B glared at him. His mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape and then smiled. “I can’t. I just remembered I have to help my dad clean up.”

“It’s just you and me, sweetheart.” JJ wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I laughed nervously.

This is gonna be awful...

                                                     <+++>

“I cannot do this, I can’t. ABORT THE FUCKING MISSION!” I hid under my blanket, fully dressed. Kie had woken me up for my ‘date’ with JJ. No one said it was a date! Now I was surrounded by everyone except for him, he was probably waiting down at the dock for me.

The blanket was ripped off of me, and I was met with determined eyes. “Come on, hurry up. Your man is waiting!”

“Oh, shut up!” I stood up reluctantly. I was pushed over to the front door. I turned around to look at my friends for one last time before they slammed the door in my face. “Traitors!”

“Good luck!” They yelled simultaneously. I huffed. 

Walking over to my bike, I hopped on and reluctantly pedaled to the dock. I could make out the figure of JJ standing there. He was looking down, toying with his fingers. I smiled instinctively, my heart tightening. 

“Hey blondie!” I teased. His head snapped up and he grinned. I got off my bike and dropped it. He ran over to me and hugged me tightly. I could smell the scent of cologne on him. “Did you put cologne on?”

“No? Yeah- Maybe.” He sniffed himself quickly. JJ cleared his throat and jumped into the boat. I was about to go in but he stopped me. He held his hand out for me. “M’lady...”

“Wow...such a gentleman.” I put a hand to my chest, acting shocked. He smirked at me. JJ started the engine. He steered the boat farther into the water. Far enough no one could hear us but close enough we wouldn’t get lost. He dropped the anchor down under. “So are we really gonna try to find it or do you just wanna catch some fish?”

“You know me so well.” He pat my head. I scrunched my nose at him. He started to look around for the rods but his face dropped. “Fuck, they’re not here...”

“That’s great. We’re gonna sit here and do nothing now.” I complained. 

“Am I that boring?” JJ put a pained look on his face. I nodded a yes. “Oh, really? Even though every time you’re with me you have that adorable smile on your face? And any time I say something you let out that cute little laugh of yours, sometimes a snort too? It seems like you have a lot of fun with me. I can see the way you look at me, Y/N...”

I was in shock at what he just said but I tried to play it off. “And how do I look at you?” I smirked at him. Our faces were close, his breath fanning over my lips.

“Like I’m the only thing in the world.”

“How cocky of you...”

“And I look at you the same way, babe.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. I looked into his eyes, but he was looking at something else. His eyes flickered to my lips and back to my eyes. The both of us leaned forward, connecting our lips. It was the release I never knew I needed. I pushed into it more, grabbing locks of his hair with my fingers. He put his hands on my waist, tightening his grip. I squealed at the pressure. We pulled back, breathing heavily.

“That was...”I panted. “I needed that.”

“Me too.” He drummed his finger on my hips. “Now there’s only one more thing to ask...”

I grinned. “And what’s that?”

“Would you, I don’t know, wanna be my girlfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I kissed him again on the lips.

“So, is that a yes?” He mumbled against my lips. 

Tagging some lovelies: @thatboogiebro​ @anxietyismyspiritanimal​

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

The Hoodie Problem

A wardrobe mistake costs you and Henry the privacy of your relationship. 

-

           “No,” you groaned as your heard the dreaded chiming of the Alexa alarm. “No, no, no, turn it off!”

           “You have to say its name, dearie,” a tired Henry grumbled in response. You could feel him pull you tighter, deeper into his warm arms. “Alexa, stop the alarm.” The alarm stopped right after.

           “It’s currently 6:20 AM. The weather in London, England, is currently 6 degrees Celsius and will be sunny for the rest of the day. There are no unread emails for your .edu or gmail.com account. One package, containing 3 makeup brushes and dog treats will be arriving to 102…’

           “Will she shut up?” You groaned in response, turning back into Henry’s warm body. The room was freezing cold, and the dog had already gotten off the bed.

           “I don’t think she’s done yet.” In a single second, the opening riff of Back in Black started playing. “Alright, love, you actually need to go.”

           “No,” you grumbled. “Fuck class, I don’t wanna go to class. I hate it anyway, and I don’t wanna sit there and listen to my history professor talk about an asshole and defend his work when it’s already shit anyway.” Henry chuckled, sending another wave of heat through your body, making you want to stay even more.

           “You won’t get to argue your vulgar point if you’re late.” You sighed and started to sit up, yelling at Alexa to stop playing music. “Go, darling, otherwise I won’t get out of bed either.”

           “You’re such an asshole in the morning,” you responded, wrestling yourself onto the floor. A gigantic ball of fluff followed you, expecting his breakfast. “Can I borrow a hoodie? Left mine in the laundry.”

           “Which you only did so you can borrow one of mine. They should all be clean, just find one that can cover the bruises on your neck.” You sighed, spying a hoodie from a charity Rugby match Henry had done the month before, and after slapping deodorant onto your under-arms you pulled it on over her sports bra. You hoped it would be enough. Quite honestly, you didn’t care who saw the hickies on your neck. Anyone who was going to see was an adult who should act like an adult about it. Your hair would have to do since it wasn’t too greasy, and after deciding just to leave it down, you finished up in Henry’s adjoining bathroom and walked back to the bedroom.

           “Covered?” You asked.

           “Yep. Leave me your keys, take the Merc, and I’ll pick it up from the shop after my workout, I want them to check the paint on the hood, too.” He looked you up and down, sitting up in bed as you walked over to give him a kiss.

           “Thanks, babe.”

           “You look beautiful,” he responded with a smile.

           “I do not.”

           “You do!” Without bothering to look at the back of the sweatshirt, Henry got out of bed and went into the bathroom. You yawned as the massive dog zoomed down the stairs, waiting for breakfast. Kal sniffed around as you set foot on the stair landing, probably wondering why your vanilla perfume was mixed with the scent of Henry’s strong aftershave. Truth be told, you were glad. It was a comforting smell.

           “Be a good boy, Kal, Papa’s gonna feed you in a minute.” The dog panted in excitement and went to go stand by his water bowl, where he would inevitably drool for the rest of the time until Henry came to feed him. You placed your things from the dining room table, your makeshift desk, into your backpack, refilled your water bottle, and took a few seconds to exchange your keys with Henry’s keys. With another glance around the house, making sure you didn’t leave any chargers behind, you walked out the front door and began to adjust Henry’s car to fit your height. You felt like something was off, but you couldn’t describe it. Instead you went to go get your coffee and find a place to park before your frightfully early class.

           “You look knackered,” a voice said behind you as you finally climbed out of the car an hour and a half later. It wasn’t the first time you’d borrowed one of Henry’s cars, but at least it was the humblest of the three he had. The McLaren wasn’t something he even trusted himself to drive sometimes, he’d finally gotten rid of the Clio collecting dust at his parents’ house, and the Aston was his precious baby you didn’t dare go near. But you were endlessly grateful he let you borrow the Merc. You just wished it wasn’t so flashy. It was ten times flashier than the seven-year-old Hyundai you’d inherited from your mother. Especially in the parking spot right in front of the building ten minutes before class where people could see you getting out of it. The voice who’d spoken was Anna, your best friend, and supposed roommate if you ever came home.

           “Trust me when I say that man needs a new coffee machine, because I’m sick of having to leave the house at seven in the morning to go buy some,” you groaned in response, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. It was heavy as hell, but you were carrying most of your things in it because you didn’t have time to go back to your barely lived-in dorm room. Your other hand held your gigantic coffee, the biggest one you could buy because apparently British people preferred caffeine-free tea in the morning. People called you absolutely crazy for getting cold drinks when it was cold outside, too, but you didn’t care.

           “You realize your neck is completely purple, right? I doubt an espresso machine is the reason you’re so tied.” You scoffed at Anna’s statement. In reality it hadn’t been crazy sex keeping you up for the past few nights – you’d been working so late that Henry came up to you the night before and wouldn’t stop biting at your neck until you agreed to come to bed, hoping it would embarrass you into having better sleeping habits. But sex was a much better story.  

           “Is it really bad?” You asked.

           “No. Not from the front.” Anna started walking backwards up the building’s staircase, opening the door for the two of you. Your classroom was the first one on the left, a massive auditorium, because everyone had to take the History of Wagnerian Opera class for some stupid reason. You took your normal places in the bright room, taking your laptops out onto the desks. You fully expected to have to plug it in, but Henry, the ever helpful boyfriend, had plugged it in when he found it half dead the night before.

           “Had a rough night, did you, Yankee?” Another voice asked behind you. It was Isaac, another student you’d been friends with from the moment you stepped on campus.

           “What on Earth gave you that idea?” You asked as you took a sip of coffee. Isaac leaned closer, looking down at the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hood barely covered the top of the lettering on your back. It read Cavill in white letters, and underneath it was the number 01. It was obviously customized, and well-loved judging by the fading English rose that was the logo for Henry’s favorite team. It was about three sizes too large, too, adding to the evidence that the hoodie didn’t belong to you. Isaac and Anna knew you were dating Henry, but most people had no idea. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, because you weren’t. Henry just wanted to protect you from the craziness that came with dating him, including paparazzi and prying eyes that would try to find their way into every little thing you did with or without him. You hadn’t signed an NDA or anything, but Henry was insistent on protecting you for as long as he could. You were fourteen years younger than him and he loved you dearly and nothing could change that.

           “You do realize that the back of your hoodie says HIS name on it, don’t you?” Isaac said quietly, hoping no one else in the auditorium heard.

           “What?” You asked in response. You could feel your face going red.

           “It says Cavill 01.”

           “Oh, shit.” You couldn’t take it off because the only thing you were wearing underneath it was a thin sports bra, and of course Henry’s car was so spotless on the inside that there was no chance of there being an extra shirt in there. Come to think of it, he’d been lounging around in the sweatshirt the night before. Shit, you thought. How could you miss it? How could you screw up that badly? What if this ruined everything?

           “Oh shit is right,” Anna remarked.

           “Does my hair cover it?” Isaac looked down at your hair. The lecture was about to start, but the thought of maybe losing Henry over a hoodie made you want to sit in the corner and cry.    

           “No. Neither does the hood.” You sank lower into the seat.

           “Maybe people won’t care. Cavill’s a common last name here.”

           “No, not really. And I think they will.” You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest.

           “Just don’t mention it to anybody and wear your bag when you can. Problem solved.”

           “I’ll get you something else later,” Anna cut in. In reality everyone already knew something was up. You had mentioned a few times, offhand, that you had almost moved into your boyfriend’s house and was commuting from Kensington. And you mentioned one day that he was an actor, much less that he was one of the most well-known actors in the entire world. Your phone had his name as Hank, and even though the connection wasn’t immediate, it was still enough to make someone think of the name Henry. Damn the British and their overly common name diminutives.

           “I swear to God, I’ll strangle whoever even thinks about it,” you sighed in response, putting your head down until the professor started class. You didn’t need to take notes quite yet, and pulled up the messages between you and Henry. The last night it was just on my way, got the food! And you are an absolute angel. Drive safe. His name wasn’t completely revealed at the conversation.

           We have a problem. Henry started typing immediately.

           You didn’t crash the car, did you????

           No, but that probably would’ve been better…

           Please explain.

           Promise you won’t get mad?

           What’s wrong???

           I picked up your hoodie from last night and it has your name on the back and it hides my neck but it has your name on it and there’s nothing under it so I can’t take it off and I’m freaking out because you don’t want people to know and I’m sorry, I just screwed up so bad. I’m such an idiot.

           It’s okay. Calm down. You’re not an idiot. You’re an absolute moron and I love you anyway

           I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want anyone to know.

           The only reason I didn’t want anyone to know is because I didn’t want anyone to make you upset because I’m stupidly in love with you and people will try to tell you otherwise. It’ll be okay. If they find out they find out. Don’t worry about it. Really.

           I feel like an idiot now.

           I’m sure you look better in it than I do anyway. Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll see you at home and we’ll figure it out.

           Thank you.

           I love you!!!!

           Love you more dimples.

           You smiled a little, sitting back into your chair and starting to type out notes about the dark undertones within Ride of the Valkyrie. For the rest of class, it was fine. But you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous for your next class. Isaac wasn’t there to back you up, and Anna sat on the other side of the room because you always distracted each other. You were on your own, taking in the scent of Henry’s aftershave that was left on the sweatshirt from the night before. It helped you calm down at least a little, even if the name on the back made you nervous. You sat lower in the chair than usual, but it didn’t stop at least one person knowing.

           “You like Henry Cavill too?” Elizabeth, the most annoying person on Earth (and a completely mediocre pianist with no sense of emotion who only got in because her father works for the royal family), said as she strained to read the sweatshirt on the way to her seat.

           “Yep.” You tried to play it off and wipe out the conversation before it even started. Never before had you wanted to listen to your old white professor rant about other old dead white guys. “He’s a good actor.”

           “I’m, like, so in love with him,” Elizabeth responded. Henry rolled his eyes every single time you said a word about Elizabeth, but you’d never tell her that. “Like, he’s just so dreamy.”

           “Oh, yeah,” you responded without even thinking. “He’s gorgeous.” You didn’t even realize what you said until Elizabeth’s eyes danced with a grin that matched her mouth.

           “You know him?” She exclaimed.

           “I mean, um, yeah, my internship…” you tried to cover, but it definitely didn’t work.

           “Shut up, you know him? Or, oh my gosh, is he the guy you’re dating?” You could tell that all of the color drained from your face and the room suddenly felt hot. You weren’t going to lie about it, but she would also be one of the first few people to know. And it wouldn’t be long before she blabbed her mouth to her followers.

           “I heard he likes younger girls anyway,” Ellen, the girl who sat behind Elizabeth, said. That was the cue for you to realize that everyone else was listening, too, and they couldn’t just mind their business. Your hands shifted uncomfortably inside the pocket of Henry’s sweatshirt. The room was definitely getting warmer.

           “Yeah,” you responded quietly. “We’ve been dating a few months and didn’t want to tell anyone yet. But you figured it out, so congrats.” You swallowed a lump in your throat. On the one hand you were glad that it wasn’t going to be a secret anymore. You didn’t want to hide how much you loved the curly-haired idiot who was too large for his own good.

           “Oh my GOD!” Elizabeth said excitedly. She was a little too loud with it. You just turned back around and pulled out your phone, hands shaking from the anxiety of what Henry had said. He said you were good enough, but what happened when the world was able to judge you?

           Well, Elizabeth figured it out. Not long until she spills to her 22 followers. And then their 22 followers.

           At least I can post that picture you took with me on the beach…

           The ugly one where I almost drowned after? Nooooo please!!!

           Oh that’s not what I was thinking about, but now that you mention it, my fingers might just slip…

           This conversation is DONE, fat Cavill! I swear I’ll punch the dimples right out of you.

           You underestimate me, little one.

           Cavill, this class is an hour long and I swear if I get out and you did something I will make you sleep on your own couch for the next year.

           Guess you’ll just have to fight me when you get home…

           With that, the conversation was over. Most people in the room didn’t seem to notice or care, but Elizabeth and Ellie did. Your friends didn’t for the most part, but you would assume some would turn on you. And you could tell that they were going to do whatever they could to make sure everyone knew that they knew before anyone else. It was strange to think that Henry was being so cool with it, that he wanted there to be a before people knew and an after. You shut your mind off and did your best to focus, even though it wasn’t very well.

           You got up at the end of class and packed your things, ready to brave the library until your next class, but you exited the room and there was someone standing at the entry hallway. Henry. And he was holding another coffee in one hand, and draped on his other arm was a shirt. He’d never been in public with you without some stupid disguise on, much less to bring you coffee in between classes.

           “Henry?” You asked, slightly too loudly. Elizabeth and Ellen turned toward you, but you blew past them to see Henry. He was grinning, from ear to ear.

           “So apparently, according to the internet in the past few minutes I’ve been in the car, I’m cradle robbing. Apparently you’re Instagram-model material, which I could’ve told you,” he said. “I brought you another coffee for dealing with bullshit, and I brought you another shirt in case you want to change.”

           “Can I keep this one?” You asked, looking down at Henry’s that you were still wearing. “And you didn’t post the bad picture of me yet?”

           “No, I was waiting for your approval,” he responded. He reached for his phone and handed it to you, and it was opened to a set of pictures he hadn’t posted yet.

           @henrycavill: The real Mission Impossible is getting her to stay still long enough to take a picture with her favorite old man. To be clear, though; she is MINE and I couldn’t be happier. I will sword-fight ANYONE to defend her honor!!

           It was a series of five pictures, all of them the two of you together, some of them cuter than others, and you just grinned. You couldn’t believe he was okay with everything, and you couldn’t believe that he was actually standing there with you, braving the people in your class just to hand you a coffee and offer you a shirt.

           “I love you,” you said quietly. He smiled in response. “Really.”

           “I love you too. I don’t care who knows.” You laughed and hugged him tightly, even though he was still holding your coffee. “But I do want the Merc back, your car is outside.”

           “Whatever you say, cradle-robber.”

A/N: I’m in an opera history class right now and it’s so frustrating that I’m definitely taking it out here. I hope the person who requests this loves it as much as I did because omg I love this 😭

[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 8

Well folks I have returned after a long break. I was hit with a wave of no motivation and life shit but thank you to everyone who has read all my other shit and left me such nice feedback. I am patently horrible at responding to comments but I see them all and love them so much. There is not much Kylo in this chapter, so apologies in advance but I promise there will be plenty of him to come. 

AO3 Mirror

Part 9 to come

Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst, not much else except for that so buckle up. 

Summary: In which you discover sometimes knowing is worse. 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 6.4k

Your breathing stopped along with the footsteps at the door. One hand remained pressed firmly against your mouth while you shrunk as far under the desk as possible. There was only horrid stillness for the next few moments. You got the distinct impression that whoever stood at the entryway was tasting the very air, sniffing like a predator for blood spilled into the sea. And a chill ran through you the second he caught your scent. A voice like ice and stone rang out as the hunt began in earnest. 

“You know, it’s impolite to enter a room without permission,” Atreus mused from behind you. 

The sound of it coupled with the knowledge that he was only mere footsteps away made your limbs shake. Like a wild creature caught in a snare, you were flooded with instinctual fear at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“Though I will admit, I was hoping you would pay me a visit.” 

He was pacing now, footsteps softened by the carpet but still perceptible. To your right the embellished wardrobe doors were flung open accompanied by a dissatisfied grunt. You frantically searched the immediate area for paths of escape—or potential weapons if it came to that—but there was nothing. Your back was to the door and Atreus stood directly between you and the only way out. 

As the likelihood that you would walk out of this office dwindled, you cursed yourself and your hubris for ever taking this job in the first place. 

There must have been a saying about this type of thing somewhere, but you couldn’t seem to recall any at the moment. 

“You ought to show yourself,” he continued, every word laced with mockery and disgust. 

He was getting closer with each step. There were only so many places to hide and judging by the fading noises of clutter being moved, all but one had been exhausted. He was going to find you and you were going to die. 

At least you would be right about one thing. 

Kylo Ren really was a liar. 

 “I never took you for a coward,” fingers drummed on the desk above you and it creaked as Atreus leaned his weight over the top, like a ship's hull as it kicked into hyperdrive. 

He was so close now you could smell him, all artificial cologne and shoe polish. If you hadn’t been trying so hard to hold your breath before you certainly were now. His own came in calm, measured puffs and you closed your eyes tightly as if that could hide you any further. While your last moments alive and breathing wasted away, you recalled all the times the Commander had called you arrogant or prideful or any other combination of synonyms that all meant the same damn thing: foolish. 

Before you might have called it confidence. Might have thought he and all your other superiors were simply threatened by their inability to tear you down. Now you just kicked yourself for being cocky enough to leave your back turned. 

“Seems I was mistaken, Ren.” 

What? 

You recoiled at the name and very nearly said the word aloud as your eyes flew open in shock.  But the legs which came into view—unnervingly long and thin— and situated directly in front of the desk turned anything you might say to dust on your tongue.    

Why was it, even at the moment of your imminent demise, that the Commander was inevitably mentioned? 

Could you really not be executed for political gain in peace?

“I know you’re here. I can feel it,” he began but was interrupted by two more approaching footsteps and a blessedly familiar voice. 

“No, I’m sorry sir, I’ve been away sampling catering options,” Lem’s soft, clear tone was more relieving that you’d care to admit. 

You swore if you lived through the next five minutes, you’d apologize for every rude thing you’d ever said to him. 

Well, all the rude things you’d been wrong about. 

“You were in your office just before I left,” Gahl grumbled and stopped just outside the door, wrapping twice. “Atreus, are you quite finished in there? I’d rather not be late to dinner just because you’ve stained your tie.” 

The creak of hinges nearly had you slamming your head into the desk in shock. 

“No sir, I lent the space to our guest from the First Order,” Lem prattled nervously and you heard Atreus growl as he shifted in place. 

“You shouldn’t be letting just anyone wander around here, Alba,” the advisor huffed before adding under his breath, “You never know what they might get into.” 

“Really, you’re the one that suggested we invite—” Lem was drowned out by another soft knock and the creaking of a door across the hall. 

You didn’t bother tuning into what Gahl had been mumbling about as Atreus’s knees slowly bent and you were once again filled with the rush of dread at the prospect of being discovered. At best you’d be labeled as a conspirator and sent back to the Finalizer for Hux to have you killed himself for destroying Order relations to Coruscant. At worst, you were destined to die on the goddamn floor at the feet of a greasy, poor excuse for an advisor. 

But in fact, neither of those options played out. 

Instead, you found the world going black for just a split second—no more than a blink—and when you woke it was to a hand gently rocking your shoulder. 

You bolted upright, startled to find yourself no longer cramped on the floor, but seated in Lem’s office. There was a small puddle of drool on the desk and Lem himself staring down at you, brows knit in concern. 

“You alright?” he asked quietly. 

But you didn’t respond right away, just looked wide-eyed out the door as Atreus rose from the floor and met your gaze with his own indecipherable expression. 

From beside you, Lem squeezed your shoulder again and you turned to face him. 

“Yes, sorry,” you muttered, shrugging away from him and rolling your neck. Every joint and muscle in you felt stiff. “I must have dozed off a bit.” 

“I can see that,” he chuckled but his face never lost it’s questioning look. 

“Right, well,” you continued, hastily gathering your things.  The air felt thick and stuck in your throat. You wanted to get out—needed to get out—immediately. “Thank you for the office, I’ll be on my way and send the drafts to you later this evening.” 

Passing by Gahl at the doorway, you gave him a friendly nod and a quiet, “Representative, I hope you have a lovely evening.” 

You were nearly out of the wing entirely when that god awful voice sunk it’s claws into your leg again. 

“Oh, but you must join us for dinner,” Atreus hummed. 

He had sauntered back out to stand behind the Representative and was pinning you down with a horrifically sweet smile. It was so wrong on his face you shuddered at the sight. Gahl, annoyingly, nodded along as he looked you up and down. 

“A good suggestion,” he said heartily. The redness of his cheeks and the slight sway in his step suggested he’d had more than just one drink before returning. “We haven’t had the chance to speak much since you came.” 

Shit. That bastard knew you couldn’t refuse a personal invitation lest you run the risk of seeming rude or suspicious when you were here to supposedly mend ties. Gahl might have been drunk enough to forget the impasse but Atreus was not as dimwitted. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t refuse such a kind invitation,” you gritted out as politely as possible. 

Gahl clapped once, loudly and turned back, calling to Lem, “Wonderful! Lem my boy, you’ll meet our friend in the lobby, yes?”

“Of course,” he said, blonde head popping out of the doorway and offering you a sympathetic smile. “You can go drop your things off and change if you’d like, I’ll wait for you.” 

You sighed and flashed a hopefully convincing grin at the three men, “Thank you, I shall see you momentarily.” 

With that you tried your best not to turn and bolt, but waited at least until you got three corridors down before collapsing to the floor in a pile of stuttering breaths and shaking hands. You tucked your head between your knees and tried to inhale deeply. The insides of your head pounded with the slick, viscous sound of Atreus’s words. The only thing that pulled you to your feet again was the insistent need to get as far away from it as possible. 

The hallways blended together as your feet carried you father and father from the offices, the Representative, and your almost murderer. You had hoped your room would offer some reprieve from the panic, that there may be someone waiting for you inside to spin comforting lies of safety. 

There was not. 

The room contained nothing but freshly made sheets and a white blotch on the wall where a hole had been patched. 

Nothing at all to indicate the Commander had set foot there since your return. 

You considered calling for him briefly. It had worked before, and the shame of crawling behind his hulking form to hide away was incredibly alluring. But instead you found yourself discarding your jacket and top in favorite of something slightly more upscale. The clothes landed in a pile by the bed where you sat for a moment. 

With the door and several floors of high rise architecture between you and that slimy bastard of an advisor, you thought again about what your second dive into espionage had dredged up. 

‘In his head’, Atreus said you were in his head long before you ever came on this assignment. Kylo had bristled at the words, shut you down quickly and you were used to secrets—you had many yourself—so you knew one when you saw it.   

Bond. 

The word rolled around in your skull, burned on your eyelids in that awful, messy script. 

It hurt to think about. 

Physically hurt, like someone was digging needles into your spine. 

So you didn’t think about it. 

Not yet. 

Instead, you finished fixing your outfit and walked back out of the empty room. There were answers and you would find them, but it was clear you’d have to get them on your own. So you let the door click shut behind you and took a deep breath. It was just dinner. You could do dinner and you would get your answers. 

On your own. 

****

The food looked painted onto the plate, contrasting colors and lovingly set out, but tasted like sawdust in your mouth. A shame too, it smelled better than anything you’d been served yet on Coruscant and was certainly a hundred times more extravagant than anything the Finalizer’s cafeterias stocked. 

But having the man who was seconds away from killing you just a short hour ago stare diagonally across the table with his corpse like eyes every time you moved did quite the number on your appetite. 

Thankfully, Lem was seated in front of you and had been prattling away for most of the meal, leaving you with little silence to fill. Part of the way through your fourth or fifth wood-chip bite, Gahl decided to change that. His voice was low and grated with age as he turned in the seat beside you to speak. 

“So, how are you enjoying your stay on Coruscant?” he asked, inching his leg out of the chair and closer to yours. 

“You’ve been very hospitable, Representative, I have absolutely no complaints,” you lied through your teeth, smile just as purposefully arranged as the food in front of you. 

Gahl’s hand patted your thigh just as he’d done at your first meeting, “Glad to hear it, I’m sure it’s nothing like those Star Destroyers.” 

You cursed every social rule of polite society which kept you from putting your knife through his hand. 

“It’s certainly a change of pace,” you mumbled around another flavorless mouthful. “Lem has been a wonderful guide.” 

In fact, you would give anything to be surrounded once again with nothing but bland, grey durasteel and the eyes of officers who were more than happy to pretend you didn’t exist. You’d even take standing in General Hux’s office, watching his ginger head flit about between sifting through files and insulting your diction in reports. If the Commander would even bother to look your way, you would have taken his cold, inaccessible stare over this as well. 

As your thoughts drifted further in the direction of Kylo Ren, another chilling voice joined the conversation. 

“Oh, don’t feel the need to flatter him,” Atreus chose that moment to chime in, scoffing into his napkin. “No doubt Alba’s simply talked your ear off about his low class, wait staff dalliance.”

Lem bristled, cheeks a comical pink with rage, “He has a name.” 

“Well, I’m sure he does, but I simply do not care to learn it,” Atreus sipped his drink and scowled. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the servers at all, it’s unbecoming of an aide to the Representative.” 

Across the table, Lem deflated and looked between you and Gahl. You were given the distinct impression this was not a new topic of conversation. 

“He’s right about that my boy, you can buy whoever you like now on the salary I pay you,” the Representative chuckled and downed the contents of his glass. 

“I’m sure our guest would agree,” Atreus’ eyes were trained on the plate but you felt his gaze on you all the same. 

“Relationships between superiors and subordinates are...frowned upon in the Order, I suppose.” 

You only caught a glint of the light off Lem’s slicked yellow hair as he turned toward the man beside him. 

“Certainly but it must happen,” he said.  

“Of course it does,” Atreus looked at you then, the blue of his iris was so light it nearly blended into the whites. “But it would be quite a dangerous predicament, especially somewhere like the Order, would it not?”

You were sure to keep your face blank and unassuming, though it was either much less convincing than you believed it to be or Atreus was actively capable of hearing the panicked screaming of your internal monologue. 

“Yes, yes it would be,” you nodded and looked back down to the table. 

“Particularly with someone of your standing, working directly under the General, I can only imagine the implications of a relationship with anyone high enough to be your senior.”

You could feel your eye twitch and your jaw tense almost against your will, as if Kylo Ren himself was choosing this very moment to inhabit your body. Really, you almost wished that he would, especially with his aggravating ability to remain completely unreadable in even the most stress inducing of situations. But alas, the only part of you Kylo inhabited was your mind in the form of an incredibly inappropriate slew of evidence for your so-called ‘dangerous predicament.’ 

“Hm,” you hummed quietly in agreement, hoping he’d drop the subject. “It would be quite unsightly, I’m certain.”

Meanwhile, Lem stared at you incredulously and hurriedly excused himself from the table mumbling something about the restroom. His blonde head quickly disappeared into the crowd and you were left alone with the Representative and his advisor, a pit developing in your stomach. And it was only made deeper by the muted betrayal in Lem’s parting tone. 

“The boy has always been too sensitive,” Gahl offered by way of explanation and Atreus nodded slowly. 

“He cracks too easily under scrutiny. He should know by now that softness is not a very useful trait in this line of work.”

You frowned and shifted in your seat, swiftly moving the Representatives gnarled hand from your leg. 

“Some amount of give is crucial in politics,” you said, gaze flicking between the two men. “It’s important to be able to bend to your adversary every so often. Being underestimated by your opponent often means you’ve been unwittingly awarded the high ground.” 

Gahl laughed heartily again as you excused yourself as well, though Atreus remained stony calm even when you glanced back between the sea of tables and waiters and expensive suits. 

Lem emerged from a side door not long after you’d posted yourself in the short, empty hallway leading to the restrooms. He would have walked straight past you if not for your hand swiftly yanking him back by the arm. 

“Wait,” you hissed as he turned to face you huddled in one of the doorways.

“What?” he hissed back.

Well. That was a fair enough question, though you hadn’t exactly thought that far. 

Lem stared at you with brows furrowed, obviously less than thrilled with how things were left off. A small part of your mind, which you were more than happy to bury and ignore, whispered that you ought to apologize. But that was most certainly not why you came after him. 

No, leaving the table was simply to punctate your last statement. 

Not because some part of you felt...guilty. 

Absolutely not. 

In fact, this was a perfect opportunity to do some more digging. Lem was your pseudo-informant and that was all. 

Right. 

That was certainly why the following words left your mouth in a tumble. 

“Are you okay?”

Lem paused as you let your hand fall from his arm, shuffling back so he could stand out of sight in the door frame across from you. He still looked cross, but his lips quirked up just a bit. You supposed he’d asked you the same so many times in just the last day, it would be appropriate for you to return the favor.  

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “That was by no means a new conversation.” 

“Under different circumstances, I would have been a bit more…” you trailed off and Lem offered you a signature toothy smile. 

“Appearances and all, I get it. Atreus uses any excuse he can find to bring up Jane since he caught us a week or so before you got here,” Lem sighed, running a hand through his neat hair. 

“Who?” 

The look you received was even more incredulous than before. 

“Jane, my—”

“Right, the waiter,” you nodded and raised your hands in apology, “so, why exactly does it matter who you’re seeing?”

Lem shook his head, “It doesn’t really, since I’m just an aide, but I’m fairly convinced he’s been trying to get rid of me since he was brought on.”

A gaggle of restaurant staff rushed past to the bar where a woman was loudly complaining about her food. You welcomed the attention her display drew away from you. 

“Oh, he wants me gone too,” you muttered and quickly waved off the comment when Lem leveled you with another confused glance. “Any particular reason why?”

He shrugged and hunched over so he could lower his voice, “Not sure, but I do know he’s been butting his greasy head in whenever the opportunity presents itself. He climbed the ranks quicker than most of the other staffers.” 

Now that was interesting. Bless Lem and his affinity for gossip. 

“That seems odd,” you frowned. “I hadn’t heard of him until this assignment, and I like to think I’m fairly well informed.” 

Lem scoffed and peered over his shoulder as if he would find Atreus there, breathing down his neck, “I’m sure you are. He just happened to materialize one day, determined to take my job.” 

Yes and your life as well, but Lem needn’t know about that. 

“Strange.” 

“Yes it is,” he replied. “And they’ll think the same if we’re gone much longer.” 

You nodded and watched him turn to merge back into the crowd, but he paused halfway into the hall. 

“Thank you,” he said simply and slipped away, past the bar and into the waves of diners. 

You waited another few minutes after Lem disappeared, and allowed yourself a small, secret smile. If for no other reason than your success at finally piecing together some information about the spiraling mess your life had become. But mostly at the rosy cheeked and chuckling sincerity that alleviated some of the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach. 

And you found the food a little less like chalk, the nerve wracking stares and inappropriate touches a little more bearable the rest of the night. 

***

The elevator ride back to your room was far more excruciating than any of the other unpleasant encounters you’d experienced that day. At least when you were cowering on the floor making peace with the fast approaching end to your mortal body, you couldn’t feel the bearer of your death breathing down your neck. 

It was so uncomfortable, you actually wished that the touch-happy, drunken Representative had tagged along instead of staying back till last call at the bar. Your heartbeat racketed up three times its normal rate when Lem pressed the button for his room a few floors below yours instead of riding back with Atreus to the office suites. 

“Did you want to discuss my notes for a bit?” you asked, trying and somewhat failing to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

Lem looked at you with a strange expression on his face, nose turning a darker shade of pink than usual, “Oh, ah, another time maybe. I have, um, someone waiting for me.” 

From behind, Atreus scoffed. 

“Truly, you are shameless, Alba,” he said and you heard him shift behind you. 

“Right,” you wanted to push the issue harder, but it would be worse if Atreus suspected you knew anymore about his plot than he already did. “I’ll see you later in the week then.”

The panel above the transparent sliding doors rang and Lem stepped out into the hall, “Yes, well not too long till the big reveal, so I’m certain we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

The soft hiss of the doors closing again reverberated in your bones like the thunking of an executioner's blade. You swallowed as your tongue turned to stone in your mouth. There were only a handful of floors in between before your stop but that would be more than enough time to maim your body beyond recognition and throw it down the incinerator shaft. 

You reminded yourself sternly that it was unlikely Atreus would exact whatever assassination plan he had in place in such a secluded space, but fear responses were not easily reasoned with. 

Atreus remained resolutely out of your line of sight and that only made the deep, instinctual part of your brain howl for you to run, claw, bite. Oh if only it were that simple, there would surely be far fewer aggravating superior officers in your life. 

The numbers on the panel moved far more slowly than you thought they ought to. With every extended second you spent in that horribly cramped lift, the air grew thicker with tension and the rancid smell of panic. Finally, finally, the panel flashed your floor number and the doors moved aside to reveal the beautiful sight of an empty hallway. But just before you crossed the threshold to freedom, an iron grip clamped hard down on your wrist. 

“So sorry to keep you,” Atreus began and you spun to face him. “It has only just occurred to me I haven’t had the opportunity to discuss anything with you regarding the Representative and the subject matter of your speech.” 

He really had to wait until now to do this, now when escape was dangling over your head like an unfortunate prisoner hanging over the maw of a hungry sarlacc. 

“Yes, well Lem has been providing council with respect to the Order’s representation of Representative Gahl in all our official statements,” you replied calmly. 

The slightest twitch of your hand revealed a shocking amount of force hidden in the advisor's lanky arms. You stuck your foot back as the doors began to close, unable to bear another minute trapped behind them. 

“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want you being led astray by any of Alba’s short comings,” the grip on your wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, “I’d like to work more closely with you as we approach the first campaign endorsements.” 

 “Certainly,” you forced a tight smile in his direction. “I would greatly appreciate your input.” 

The words sliced your lips as they tumbled out. You were accustomed to lying, yes, but stars that was potentially the least believable statement that had ever left your mouth. 

“I’m sure.” 

Staring hard into his dead man’s eyes, you tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as he unfurled his fingers from your wrist. Stepping back clumsily into the hall you waited until the doors hid his cheap imitation of a smile before you heading down the hall to your room. Better he not know which turn you took. 

You ran the rest of the way back. 

The tightness in your chest subsided by degrees the farther you got to safety and you didn’t even bother denying to yourself the hope that your Commander in all his black cloaked, looming glory would be waiting to stand between you and the reality waiting just outside. 

You really should have known better than to put any faith in his promises. 

“Kylo?” you whispered into the empty room. 

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t, and maybe that was the only reason you were brave enough to call out for him. 

There was a familiar black bag propped in the corner by your luggage which indicated Ren had at least returned to the Federal District at some point during the evening. That at least was something of a comfort, though a very small one. 

You grabbed one of the chairs from the table and shoved it securely back under the door handle. It scrapped against the floor and your shin throbbed as you kicked it in place. Once again the clothes on you wore seemed to have been permeated with whatever disgusting, oily sheen that leaked off of the absolute slug of a man currently puttering around in his office planning the best way to choke the life out of you. They itched and stung and you tugged at them quickly, pulling each item off in a flurry like coals blistering your bare skin. 

Free from the growing pile of discarded laundry you dug around through your cases. Your hands still shook as you scattered the contents, pulling on fresh bottoms that didn’t reek of lies and aftershave. You paused as your fingers brushed against something far softer than any of your Order regulation garments. 

Large, flowing, and predictably black, Kylo Ren’s undershirt hung in your hands like a shroud. 

You battled with your instincts. Half of you—the portion still living in the past where hatred was a simple comfort—wanted to ball it up and stomp it full of dusty boot prints. That side did not win and its screaming reduced considerably as the shirtsleeves made their way down your arms. You were enveloped immediately in a sense of sheer relief coupled with the feeling that what you were doing was profoundly reckless. 

But even if it was a false sense of security, your hands and knees were not shaking as badly as before. 

The Commander was intimidating and cold, but in addition he was intimidating and cold and standing resolutely between you and danger which was more than you could say for just about any other coworker. 

You supposed he was probably a bit more than that now. 

Eyes shut, you recalled the warm, full feeling of his approval upon seeing you in his clothes. The way it rushed through you and pulsated when he let his voice echo in your head. You wondered what it felt like for him. Was your voice a grating nuisance or was it a tingle at the back of his neck, the shiver of cool hands or maybe the surge after a well won battle. 

How did he do it, you wondered. How did it feel to read you so easily? To know all your doubts and fears and micro-defiances before they left your mouth. And how did he remain so resolutely aloof? 

Even now, as you tensed your jaw and tried to focus on the smell of him surrounding you and conjure his presence, there was nothing but dead air. You sighed and let your knees thunk down to the floor.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Kylo Ren only appeared when he wanted to, only answered your thoughts when it suited him. You could scream his name into the void of your mind but you couldn’t force him there—couldn’t Force him there. Which was unfortunate for many reasons. Being capable of wielding the throat crushing, invisible fabric of the universe at your will would have come in handy in so many situations. As you rubbed your eyes and prepared to wallow more thoroughly in the mess your life had devolved into, something caught your eye amongst the sea of clothing. 

From the Commander’s open bag, you could see something brighter amongst the masses of black fabric. Further inspection revealed that the item was shoved into the back pocket of his trousers and when you looked closer, it was clear what you were looking at. 

Your underwear. 

Your underwear was hidden away in Commander Ren’s luggage. 

And in your half shocked, half strangled endeared state, a memory surfaced. 

The night you’d spent writhing on your bed as Kylo sat, watching as the Force fucked you open. The image of him was clear in your head—a princely, demonic being refusing you the luxury of pleasure through his touch and taking your soaked panties along as a trophy when he was finished with you. 

 It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

You’d thought it was a dream then. 

And wasn’t it? The lines between waking and fantasy were blurring more and more with every passing day. But Kylo hadn’t left. He was there when you woke, that you did recall clearly. But these were the same, still unwashed from all those nights ago. 

Kylo had said there was a difference between dreaming and projecting, and to be fair you’d never been able to tell them apart. The Force was somehow involved. The same Force which seemed to have a questionable relationship with existing inside you. But it stood to reason, if someone as incompetent and disconnected as you could think yourself into Kylo Ren’s presence on very specific occasions, that he could do so whenever the hell he wanted. 

And while the implications this knowledge had on all your other sexual escapades was at the forefront of your mind and burning your face to a crisp, another inkling was forming amongst the embarrassment. 

If the Commander truly had projected himself—whatever that really meant—into your room to fuck you into oblivion without lifting a finger and kept what he’d taken, maybe you could do the same. 

Maybe, sitting inside your coat pocket was your own dream contraband. 

Crawling across the floor, you sifted through the mess at the foot of the bed until your hand felt something small and hard. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you pulled a familiar leather bound notebook from the pile and turned it over in your grip—hefty and solid and so very real in your hands.  

Staring down at the book you were at once intensely excited and overwhelmingly terrified. Logically, you knew that you were alone here and free from prying eyes no matter how desperately you wished not to be, but delving into what promised to be the source for so many of your questions felt too risky in the open of your bedroom. 

Quietly, you leaped over the bed and scrambled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and sliding down to the floor. Only then, with your back barricading you in with the tile cooling your heated skin, did you crack open the cover and begin to read the sloppy, looping scrawl across each page. 

A picture began to form in your mind growing clearer with every passing page. 

It was very much like reading the ramblings of a madman, and upon passing the first ten or so pages, your initial deduction of mad ravings only grew more accurate. The entries were similar to that of a diary, each one detailing a new piece of intel discovered. And just as you’d noted before, almost all of it had something to do with Kylo Ren. 

And you’d thought you were a bit obsessive. 

There were names you didn’t recognize, and some you did—members of the Order, high ranking and not, scattered about. Occasionally passages were quoted from what seemed to be incident reports and older texts of galactic history. And of course, there were consistent references to the ever mysterious Force. All of which were written in such personal detail that you could be certain they came from someone who, unlike you, could and knew how to use it. 

The words were so jumbled, you had to reread each line and follow it like a hunting trail to the next running sentence. And the farther you got, the deeper you dived, the more you felt your insignificance looming—that tight in your throat feeling of being so small in the grand scheme of things. 

In this scheme of things at least.  

From what you could understand, all the events leading up to your assignment to Coruscant and everything that had transpired since your arrival all boiled down this: power and the struggle to possess it. 

And at the center of it all was Atreus, Kylo Ren, and, inexplicably, you. 

In this story, you began as nothing more than another pawn on the chess board. Your name appeared maybe twice in the entire first half of the nearly full notebook. You were a footnote, a name scribbled in the margins connected to the General due to your position. After that, it seemed Atreus had gotten his hands on some more confidential documents, dozens of them in fact judging from his lists. Some were immaterial and contributed nothing, but from what you could gather, buried amongst them were dozens of your correspondence all pertaining to the Commander and all of which more than hinting at the small grudge you carried for him. 

He’d even quoted lines from you. 

As you progressed, the text became even more garbled, the handwriting rushed and nearly illegible but it was easy enough to see where it was heading. 

You were meant to be an example—of that you were certain. But not for the First Order, not because one Coruscanti representative wanted to stick it to its totalitarian overlords. Oh no, the threat of your death was meant as an example to Kylo Ren himself. It was a message, a lure, cast down from Atreus. When you first began to piece this together, it sounded intensely nonsensical. 

Almost entirely due to the fact that this plan hinged on Commander Ren of all people, having a vested interest in your life. Which, up until very recently, you would have deemed impossible. If anything, you’d have guessed he would greatly benefit from your demise seeing as you were at best an annoyance and at worst a roadblock between him and forceful galactic takeover. 

But then you reached that word. 

Bond.

Scribbled over and bolded with arrows and circles. You still couldn’t truly grasp the gravity of what it meant, but looking it over again, you knew it was true. Whatever this thing was, between you and your Commander, this was its name. And having read the journal in its entirety, you understood now why that singular word had struck you so thoroughly to your core. 

“You aren’t going to die.”

How many times had Kylo said that to you now? 

And it was constructed to bring your downfall. This was exactly what it seemed Atreus was banking on. It seemed all this want, all this hypothermic, desperate searching for one another was manufactured. The sense of wholeness,  a sham. The pit inside you, the anger, the balm of Kylo moving inside you—all orchestrated somehow to fit into this master plan to remove the Commander and take whatever he was standing in the way of. 

Without this, you would have remained a nuisance swearing at Ren from across conference tables. Nothing more than a bug to be smashed against the wall and left to rot.  And that sat terribly on your shoulders. 

Just as the book fell from your hands and onto the tile floor, you heard a familiar rattling coupled by a crash from the room just outside. Heavy footsteps rang out against the floor and a door slammed. 

Your name was called softly into the stillness. Just as you had called for him. A few moments of silence passed before you could answer, and when you did your voice felt strange in your mouth. 

“In here,” you replied quietly, listening to his foot falls approach the door and come to a halt. 

When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear his breath. Kylo paused at the door, the soft thump of his hand coming to rest against the wood the only other sound he made. You didn’t move from the floor and he made no attempt to open the door. The tingle at the back of your neck, the slight tugging of your strings, told you he could feel the thoughts racing in your head. 

Only minutes ago you would have been relieved to feel the warm of him spreading slowly down your spine. Now it felt strangely soured. For a moment you thought he might rip open the door, maybe bend you over the vanity again and teach what happened when you called for him out line. 

But he didn’t. 

When you didn’t shift from your spot to step into his grasp, you felt him pull away and heard the rustling of sheets and clothing outside. You didn’t know what you would say to him now, so instead you got up slowly and turned the water on. The mirror fogged over as you stripped and tucked the little notebook away under your clothes so the steam didn’t seep into the pages. 

You could wash now, you thought, and hopefully Kylo would have fallen asleep or left to stalk the halls again when you finished. Then you could buy yourself some time to think, unbothered by other prying eyes in your head. 

You stepped into the stream and scrubbed your skin raw, and all while the little black book watched you from its place on the sink, ever plotting. 

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

Taglist lovelies: @couldntfuckingtellya @contesa-lui-alucard @thewilddingleberries @isaxhorror @cowboy-kylo @findyourdarkness @kit-jpg @shesakillerkween @obsessionprofessional

[stachmousworld]

True Love (Lesbian Story) Ending 2; part.1

Maria Borges and Neelam Gill by Jonas Bresnan for L’oreal Paris (picture and caption found on @/sand-snake-kate)

Pairing: Mara x Carole

The main character’s POV is unreliable

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

This ending will be in two parts. The last one IS just smut.

Previously: Mara and Carole had their argument in the hotel room. Carole assumed Mara and Ayela are together. Mara leaves the room...

The door closed behind Mara. Carole’s body sagged as the tension left her. What a…

“No, actually I’m not done,” Mara declared, reentering the room.

Carole almost jumped in surprise. She needed more time to put back her walls up. She knew she looked wrecked. Not the kind of look she wanted to affront, again, Mara.

“What are you doing here? I told you I don’t want to-”

“No. This time you are going to listen to me,” she announced firmly. She took a few steps further in the room. “I love you. I never stopped and I think you do, too. So, I won’t leave until you tell me why you want me gone.”

Carole could have laughed. When she had wanted Mara to stay, she had run away and now she wanted her gone and she stayed. Mara’s face fell. Oh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Well…maybe she’d leave, Carole thought, a little ashamed. She squashed her feelings and relinquished on her anger.

“I’m…I don’t know how to apologize for that. I thought you stayed with me because I was a rebound. You never took her ring off and the first few months, you kept talking about her. You never told me you loved me. I told you every day. And at first, I was ok with you not telling me or feeling the same. At least you stayed with me. I was so pathetic,” she spat. “I should have confronted you, but I was a coward. I didn’t want to know the answer to my questions. So yes, when I so your ex and the way she talked about you and how she was back I panicked and left.”

Mara sniffed and wiped her tears. Carole opened her mouth and closed it. She didn’t have words. She only wished Mara would have talked to her about her insecurities. Fear suddenly gripped her heart. No, if she had talked to her about her feelings, Carole would have had to tell the truth about Elizabeth and her true feelings. And, Mara would have been gone forever. Carole would have lived a life without her. She couldn’t imagine that after everything.

“But maybe you are right. We have to let each other go.”

Mara stepped back still facing Carole. She toyed with the ring. It took a few seconds for Carole to understand what she had just said. She surged toward her.

“Wait! You can’t tell me all that and leave.”

“A few minutes ago, you were the one who wanted me gone because you presumed that I had a girlfriend, which I don’t, by the way.”

“I thought casual wasn’t your type”, she replied without thinking.

Mara raised an eyebrow. “People change. But, in this case, Ayela is just a friend. She and I are not like that and never will.”

Carole didn’t want to think to much on what she felt. Relief and fear. Relief to know Mara was still available and interested in her. Fear because something shifted in Mara’s behavior. She seemed unreachable. If Carole had hope to find her after all these years, she knew, deep down, that if Mara left the room, their relationship would definitely be dead.

The ring swayed slowly in the air before Mara caught it.

“I-.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be out of your hair. But I find it funny that you could be jealous of my friend but when it comes to your ex…” She left her sentence unfinished. “And she is still by your side. I guess some things never change”, Mara said grimly.

“Wh-what,” Carole spluttered. “There is nothing between her and I. And if you’d had stayed around the first time, you’d know that. But no, you ran out and left me the first chance you got.” Carole couldn’t stop the word from slipping out. She was angry. This situation and all of this should have never ended like that. She hated the mess Mara left. The gaping hole in her chest was screaming to hurt her as much as she did, even though, hurting Mara meant hurting herself. Her anguish face changed into an ugly sneer. “Living quite lavishly, don’t you? I didn’t know a librarian could live afford Hawaii. Last time we talked about it; it was just a dream. Oh, but wait, it’s true, I created a position for you in my company and paid you ridiculously high for the secretary job you were doing. And with all the money you saved on my back, living at my place, you should thank me to have put up with you.”

 It took her a few seconds to notice, but…

Carole was still flushed with anger, hands in fists by her sides.

It took her a few seconds to notice, but when she did…

She tried to calm down. Her eyes were still glaring at the ring which seemed to mock her.

It took her a few seconds to notice, but when she did, it was too late.

Mara stepped back hands on the doorknob.

Oh my God.

Realization hit Carole like a train. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

Oh my God.

She couldn’t see Mara’s face. She was not facing her anymore. Carole tried to remember when she had moved. The scene was surreal. A few minutes earlier, Carole had wanted to fight for their relationship, fearing it’d be dead, and now, she was the one who totally shot it in the head, killing any chance to go back together.

“I’m so -”

“Don’t,” she interrupted with strangely calm and detached voice. Carole lips were trembling as she fought her tears. Jesus, she had fucked up. It wasn’t what she wanted to say. But she did anyway. Now, she had to- “I didn’t know you thought that of me. I’m sorry.” Carole frowned not understanding what was happening. “I’m sorry if you think I had used you.”

She seemed to want to add something but left the room instead. Before Carole had the time to react. Memories from the night of the party flooded her mind. Back then too, she hadn’t made reacted quickly enough. She ran to the door only to witness Mara in the elevator, head down, shoulder slumped.

Defeated.

Carole had done that.

She thought she’d feel better. She had been so angry and…and vengeful. She had been so hurt at Mara’s departure. Seeing her here, joyful, happy while she, herself, had been moping around and borderline depressive…something had finally snapped inside of her.

 Someone knocked on her door. She jumped to her feet and opened it. Her dad. She tried to hide her disappointment.

“Is everything ok, Care bear?”, he asked, worried.

She shook her head and fell into his arm. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

 It didn’t take long before he coaxed the story out of her. In between tears, sobs, and screams, everything came out. Her dad stayed calm and never interrupted her, whether she was right or wrong or didn’t make any sense. He stayed true to himself and let her cry her soul out. At the end, she felt so out of it. She could only focus on her breathing, any movement being too difficult.

“Hush hush my little girl”, he said, soothingly. “Sleep and we’ll talk about it tomorrow”.

“Stay here?”

He chuckled and nodded.

  Tomorrow wasn’t supposed to be that hard. Not at all. First and for the first time since forever, Carole had dreamt of Mara spooning her. Carole had hated the first time Mara had proposed to be the big spoon. She had argued, complained, and tried to push her away. She had not even stood a chance against Mara’s comfortable embrace and soothing caresses. If she remembered correctly, the morning after, she’d woken up on her pillowy boobs - Mara’s boobs were certainly the biggest she’d ever seen -, drool all over her mouth and obviously all over Mara.

She hadn’t missed Mara’s smug face and had tried to deflect this experience: she had drooled because she was extremely tired (a lie), her sinuses were blocked so she had to sleep mouth opened (a lie). Mara had only shrugged at her flimsy explanations and went to the bathroom.

What was only supposed to be a one-time experiment, turned out to be recurrent. Carole stopped fighting and accepted that Mara, indeed, was a great big spoon.

 Secondly, Carole woke up late. Around noon. She didn’t know why she was that exhausted. Her dad was long gone, and she was alone in her room, besides the little note she found on the drawer.

‘I let you sleep. Call me when you are up and we’ll talk (laughing smiley)’

She groaned and rolled under her cover. She was still tired even though her body was buzzing with energy. Her brain was sluggish, and she couldn’t really formulate a coherent thought.

She was forced to emerge from underneath all of her soft protection when she heard someone knocking on the door.

She pushed herself to a sitting position.

The knocking stopped as fast.

Had she imagined that?

No. Someone was really on the door and they were getting annoyed. The door was vibrating under the assault.

“I’m coming!”, she screamed, her voice raspy from the sleep and crying.

She didn’t even have the chance to wash her face or brush her teeth. For all she knew it was her dad and he had seen in far worse situation.

She opened the door and closed it quickly.

Mara and her not-girlfriend were there. In front of her door. She glanced quickly around and ran to her chair to pick up her robe, then the bathroom. She didn’t have the time to be thorough. She put toothpaste in her mouth, almost swallowing it, and washed her face.

 She was looking far better than a few seconds, but far worse than yesterday. Who knew that crying your eyes out would have this ugly consequence on her body? She tried not to focus on her red-rimmed eyes, puffy cheeks, and bags under her eyes.

She nibbled her fingers nervously. What the hell was she trying to do?

She came back to the door and attached her robe tightly. She could do it. Whatever it meant.

 Her first thought seeing Mara was that she looked…like shit. Carole felt a little bit relieved. At least not only her had suffered from their argument, even though, it wasn’t the same thing. She had unfairly insulted Mara, while she had taken Carole’s insults as truth. When Carole thought about it, – or at least tried to - she didn’t even know how to start her apology.

           They stood in front of each other in silence. The girl with Mara was more beautiful than she remembered. She was a natural beauty and transpired peace.

“My name is Aleya and I’m Mara’s friend.”

Carole nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t dare to talk.

“I’m here because, you both seem to be incredibly stupid. She talked to me about your fight, it wasn’t supposed to happen like it did. I had told her to talk about her feeling to get a new start, but she didn’t really understand what I said.” Aleya glared at Mara, who looked sheepish. “So, I’m leaving you, both. If anything turns south, I’ll have to be your mediator. And I don’t think you want me to listen to your heartfelt declarations”.

Aleya kissed Mara’s cheek, pushed her inside, and closed the door.

At first no one said anything. Mara was shuffling her feet and looked everywhere but at her.

“You can sit on the bed, if you want”.

Mara’s face said it all. She scrunched up her nose in a disgusted moue. Carole remembered her rules against beds and outside clothes. She chuckled silently.

“Or not. You can have one of the armchairs.”

She nodded, still silent, and sat on the chair. She made sure to take the furthest one away from Carole’s bed. Carole took a deep breath and went to sit on the bed.

“Do you want me to start or…?”

Mara tensed at the question, then opened her bag and took out a big envelope. She handed it to Carol without looking at her.

“What is it?” She asked uncertain.

“1 million 400 thousand 53 dollars.”

Carole stared at her lost. What the fuck was happening there? She opened the enveloped and saw two papers. One check and a…resignation letter?

“What is it, Mara?” Her voice sounded far away, even for herself.

“The money for my part of the rent and the salary you have paid me. The paper is my resignation letter. I should have done it a moment ago,” she announced with the same irritating calmed and detached voice as the day before.

Carole was left speechless. She gripped the envelop so tight her knuckles hurt. She couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“Is it about last night?” she asked, seething.

Mara raised un eyebrow.

“Fuck! I was angry and I lashed out. That didn’t mean anything. I wanted to hurt you. And…and…gosh, we need to have a real convo, with no interruption, no matter how hurtful we might say things. I will talk first and then I will let you talk. Ok?”

Mara nodded.

“It is true that the first few months after my breakup with Elizabeth and the first few months with you, I wasn’t a 100 percent in our relationship. I still had a part of me who grieved Elizabeth’s departure. I expected to hear bad news from the moment she left. She had been there for most of my life. I had been with her for almost all of it.” Carole straightened her back. She had long stopped trying to decipher Mara’s unreadable face and focused on her hands. “I shouldn’t have accepted to be with you so soon. I knew that you had feelings for me, and I used you, in a way. Your love soothed Elizabeth’s absence. There is no way I could actually make up for that. I should have talked to you about it and told you my thoughts. But the most important part is that I didn’t, and I hurt you all along. I don’t deserve you in any way. It took me a long time to actually register. You gave and gave, and I took all of it without giving you back. I can’t travel to the past and erase what I’ve done, because you did deserve more than half my attention.” 

Carole pried her fingers open, straightened the creases on the envelop and took the check out. 

“What I said yesterday was false. I know damn well that you didn’t use me, and you would have had the job anyway. I didn’t have to intercede for you, Marco was already smitten with you, in the first place,” Carole shredded the check and threw the confetti in the trash bin. “As for your resignation, if it is really what you want, I’ll accept it. I don’t want you to do something reckless and regret it. I know a thing or two about regrets”, she laughed mirthlessly.

Mara leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” she took a shuddered breath. “I was afraid you’d stay with me because I’m the one who’ll never go away. I was never doing a risky job or traveling all day. I was a safe investment, as your friend “gently” repeated. I was blind, you know? I had the feeling that you didn’t actually reciprocated my feelings, but I thought naively that once you’d see my for what I am you’d fall in love with me.” She chuckled humorlessly. “It is not entirely your fault. You weren’t really hiding your sadness and longing for Elizabeth. There were my red flags, but I kept going, head down convincing myself that at the end you’d forget about her and you’d love me. Damn, saying those words out loud make me sound more fucked up than I was.” She paused, massaged her temples and kept going. “I will keep the job and the money since you destroyed the check.”

That was it. Carole had expected Mara to talk more. She, herself, had explained thoroughly her feelings. If anything, this discussion felt as if they were putting a stamp on their relationship. A stamp which would definitely seal their fate. Carole, once more, didn’t like where it was going. She hadn’t expected a huge effusion of love and vows of a happy ending.

Mara was so closed to her and yet so far. She still couldn’t read her face and her voice didn’t let any emotion through.

“Is it…everything you wanted to say?”

Mara shrugged. Carole refrained herself from throttling her. She didn’t like that Mara. She missed the one who kissed her and teased her last night. Where was she gone? She blocked all the obvious answers and stubbornly hoped.

“Are you not going to say anything?” Carole asked, expectantly.

“You said your piece, I have said mine. What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. Yesterday we kissed. I thought today we could talk and salvage the rest of our relationship. Now I know why you left and now I apologized for my behavior, I had hoped, maybe, if you want, that we could learn again how to be with each other, and perhaps, if everything goes well, we could go out.”

Mara stayed silent for an instead, fidgeting. Carole repressed the urge to take her hands in hers, then gave in. She kneeled in front of Mara and took each hand in each of hers and brought them together.

“I don’t want to get hurt”, Mara whispered, softly.

“I know my Astroios.” Mara glanced sharply at her, making her smile. “I know. I can’t promise we won’t hurt each other. I can only assure you to communicate with you. I know I have a lot to make up for. What happened with Elizabeth was a toxic foundation for our relationship. Unfortunately, it took me many months, and some visits to my therapist to work on my feelings, both for you and Elizabeth. I had to admit that I love (Mara’s breath hitched) and loved her as she was my first relationship, but I was never in love with her. We’ve been together since we were kids. I didn’t know any better. There was no spark, no passion and tenderness only two horny teens and a good friendship. I was so used to her in my life that I considered her more like a friend with benefits at the end.” 

Carole bent her head, nose grazing the back of Mara’s hand. She pressed a few featherlike kisses. Words fell out of her mouth naturally.

“According to my therapist, you were never a rebound, even though I made you feel like that. I was afraid of really falling in love with someone and so I tried to hold onto every bits of my former life. I remember everything from our first date to the first time I knew you were the one and had to ask for my granny’s wedding ring from my safe at the bank. I tried to act as if I was detached from you because you were so addicting. You made me go to museums, theatres, operas, libraries, concerts, food trucks I didn’t know about. Even old things were looking new under your gaze. I had fallen hard and quick. Couldn’t help myself really. I actually wanted to admit my feelings to you that night at the party, and I ended up revealing my feelings to my ex-friends. I was beyond pissed.”

Carole shook her head amused. She could clearly remember the faces of her then friends. Lost in her thought, she almost didn’t hear what Mara said.

“…love you.”

Carole tilted Mara’s chin toward her and pressed their foreheads together. Blues eyes against brown whiskey eyes.

“I love you.”

Tears were running downs their cheeks. Carole couldn’t help but sagged in relief, tension seeping out of her body.

It would be alright. I would be alright. We will be alright, she thought, hopeful.

“We’ll have to take it slow, right?” Mara asked, unsure.

“Yep, we have all the time in the world,” Carole reassured her, keeping her excitement at bay. She didn’t want to frighten Mara. Everything was still fragile.

“But, I’m staying here and you’ll be in San Francisco. How are we going to do?”

Oh. Carole hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d believe Mara would have followed her back home, but it was counteractive to their “take it slow” plan.

“I am on vacation for a month or two. I could stay at the hotel, and we could go on dates, no pressure. Then I’ll have to go back but we’ll be able to communicate and call each other every day.”

“Do you think it is worth it?” Mara asked, abruptly.

What? Was Mara already backpedaling?

“What?”

“You didn’t…your relationship with Elizabeth didn’t survive the long distance. How could ours do so?”

“I told you I was not in love with her. And Boston/Hawaii is not that far. Roughly 6 hours.”

She could tell Mara wasn’t happy with this answer. Carole, herself, didn’t want to think of their future separation. One had been enough. Her only consolation would be that, this time, they’d be together.

“We’ll have to take it slow. Give us this time to work things out. If it doesn’t work out -- ” She shivered at the thought. “…we’ll part as good friends.”

Mara scrutinized her face before nodding.

“Ok. But no funny business.”

“No “funny business”, Carole repeated slowly. It was a whiplash. A moment Mara was about to flee and now her entire demeanor was open. She looked relaxed, at ease and her usual smirk was back. Carole closed her hand, repressing the need to kiss her plump lips. ‘No funny business’. “Do you take me for an easy person?”

“You jumped on me after our first date”, she replied deadpanned.

Carole raised her left hand. “I pledge the fifth.”

“So, you are guilty. Only guilty people pledge the fifth.”

“Lies, lies and slander!” Carole exclaimed, indignant.

“Is it too late to back off this relationship?” she asked, pouting.

“Nope!” Carole hugged Mara and lifted her from her chair to the bed, making her squeal in delight. She straddled Mara’s hips and pinned her down. “Now I got you, I’m keeping you.”

Mara tested Carole’s grip and smiled. The very first one of the day. Let it not be a dream, she prayed, fervently.

“I’m not an easy woman, you know?”

“Who said I’d do some ‘funny businesses’ with you, anyway?”, Carole teased her playfully. She couldn’t stop the soft and gooey feeling from blossoming in her heart. The tiredness from earlier left for a tension she hadn’t felt since their breakup. Her skin was too tight, too hot and too sensitive. All the nerves were so attuned with Mara’s body that she didn’t know where her body started and where it ended.

“Hey! You couldn’t resist me yesterday. You were ready to risk it all.”

Carole scoffed and rolled next to Mara.

“If that makes you sleep at night”.

“No, I have Herberta for that.”

“Her…what?”

“Herberta”, Mara replied, with a tone she wasn’t used anymore. The one which said, ‘you are really thick in the head, I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.’

Part 2 aka final part

[ericsonclan]

You're My Home Part 3

Summary: Mitch wakes up to a text from Violet that makes it clear she needs somewhere to stay.

Read on A03: 

Mitch woke up to the feeling of drool seeping out of his mouth. Sitting up, he wiped his mouth off with a sleepy groan before checking his phone. Shit. Violet had left him a message at 8:04 this morning.

you home?

Violet only reached out for one reason: her dad was being an asshole drunk again.

yup come on over

Throwing his phone aside, Mitch looked down at his bare chest. The sweatpants were passable, but he should probably find a shirt. Picking up the nearest one on the floor, he sniffed it deeply before tossing it to the side. That one was too rank even for him. Finding another, he gave it a whiff, finding it passable and throwing it on. He shuffled through the cramped kitchen of his family’s trailer home, grabbing a stale bagel off the counter and chewing it placidly. There was still some coffee in the pot too. His mom must’ve made some before heading off to work; Dad wouldn’t be home for several hours either.

Stepping into their living room, Mitch found his brother Willy crouched criss-cross applesauce on the couch, engrossed in the level of Spyro he was playing. As soon as he saw Mitch though, he paused the game and threw his controller to the side, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Mitch! You’re finally up! Can we play the game now? Please please please??”

Mitch rolled his eyes good-naturedly before ruffling Willy’s hair. “Sure, bud. Just remember: no telling Mom and Dad, OK?”

Willy nodded eagerly, his eyes even larger than normal.

Mitch knelt down to sort through their collection of old video games. Pulling out the Frogger case, he opened it to reveal the game Willy was truly asking about: Mortal Kombat. Putting the disc into their Playstation, Mitch booted up the game. “Violet might be coming over soon so you should get some pants on,”

Willy looked down at his bare legs. “I spilled milk on my PJ’s,”

Mitch noticed the crumpled pants at the foot of the couch. “Well, throw them in the room and get some other ones,”

Willy scampered off, still talking loudly from their bedroom. “Think Vi will want to play too?”

“We’ll see,” It was hard to tell how Violet would be feeling when she arrived. The boys settled in to play a round together. As they always did, Mitch chose Scorpion and Willy choose Sub-Zero.

They’d been playing for about twenty minutes when there was a knock at their door. “Door’s open!” Mitch yelled, in the midst of trying to land a fatality on Sub-Zero. Willy was getting seriously good: he’d have to step up his game if he wanted to keep winning.

Violet walked in. Wordlessly she walked across the room, plopping into the armchair and watching them play.

“Hey, watch this, Vi!” Willy exclaimed. Catching Mitch unaware, he landed a fatality of his own on Scorpion, ripping off his head and pulling out his spine. Willy cheered as Sub-Zero proudly displayed the decapitated remains.

Violet gave a small smile in Willy’s direction. “Good job,”

Mitch observed Violet cautiously, a small frown tugging at his lips. He didn’t see any bruises. That was good. Still, they could be underneath her hoodie. If that piece of shit did anything… Mitch tried to take a deep breath, slowing down his heart rate. He and Violet had had this conversation before. She didn’t want him ever doing anything, “pulling yourself into my shit” as she put it. One of these days he’d love to get his hands on the materials needed to blow up the dick’s van, but considering he had a record as a “troubled youth”, a move like that would immediately lead to the finger being pointed at Mitch. He couldn’t risk getting taken away. He wouldn’t do that to Willy.

They’d gone a few rounds without either of them pulling a fatality move. Time to fix that. Mashing the controller, Mitch got Scorpion to pull his signature move, pulling off his mask to reveal a skull underneath and incinerating Sub-Zero with his fire breath.

“Aaw, man!” Willy exclaimed, letting his controller drop to the couch.

“Can’t beat the master, kid,” Mitch grinned smugly.

“But I did! Like twice!”

“Whatever,” Mitch looked over to Violet, holding out his controller. “Wanna turn, Vi?”

Violet shrugged but stood up to take the controller.

Mitch headed back to the kitchen, trying to scope out some food. Knowing Violet, she probably hadn’t eaten since last night. Opening the fridge, Mitch was disheartened but not surprised to find nothing but the last dregs of a milk jug and some questionable lunchmeat inside. Shopping day was tomorrow. Mitch glanced back toward his bedroom, wondering for a second if he should text Louis and let him know Violet was here. But the fact Violet had texted him probably meant she wanted to keep things on the downlow. Louis coming over right now might be more than she could handle. Mitch strode back into the living room just in time to see Violet landing a fatality with Sonya. She rolled her eyes as her character stepped back, blowing a kiss that sent an ember flying over to torch her opponent.

“God, Sonya’s finishing move is so stupid,”

“Then why do you always play as her?” Mitch asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall.

Violet looked away, flustered. “Shut up,”

“I’m doing a McDonald’s run. Wanna come along?”

Violet’s ears immediately perked up at that. “Sure,”

“I wanna come!” Willy exclaimed, leaping up on the couch.

“Nah, somebody’s gotta stay and watch the house. Besides, you need to brush up on your moves so you can annihilate me when I get back,”

Willy didn’t seem quite convinced by Mitch’s words but he quickly flopped back down on the couch, starting up his own round. “I want a Happy Meal!”

“Will do,” Mitch replied, grabbing his keys before heading out the door, Violet close behind. He still had enough money from his last odd job for a treat. The two teens headed out to his beat-up car, hopping inside. They drove in silence; Mitch’s car only had a tape player and that had broken long before he received it.

It was Violet who spoke first. “He didn’t hit me.”

“And your mom?”

“He didn’t get her either. Broke a lamp though,”

“Bastard,” Mitch’s hand tightened on the wheel.

“It’s fine,”

“Vi, that is the exact fucking opposite of fine!” Mitch huffed in annoyance. He shouldn’t be snapping at her. “Is he gone now?”

“His new route starts on Tuesday. He’ll be gone for a week,” Violet stared at the dashboard, her arms crossed tightly. “My mom’s got her diner shift tonight so at least she’ll be out of his reach,”

“You’re staying with us tonight. And don’t give me any shit about it. You can crash on the couch,”

“…Thanks,” Violet’s voice was small.

Mitch turned into the McDonald’s drive through lane. “Now let’s get some fucking nuggets,”

It was about a half hour before they made it back to the trailer, walking in to find Willy still busy trying to master Mortal Kombat. They sat around the living room eating their nuggets and Happy Meal and taking turns at the controls. After about an hour more, they all decided it was time to switch to something else. At Willy’s request, they put on Dumb and Dumber. They’d all seen it at least a dozen times, but the jokes and gags still had Willy and Mitch laughing while the occasional chuckle came from Violet. Mitch noticed Violet texting as the movie went on. He wondered who it could be but didn’t pry.

Once the movie finished up, Mitch and Violet amused themselves on their phones while Willy started up Spyro again. It wasn’t long afterwards that Mr. Baker showed up, his arms full of grocery bags.

“Boys, a little help here?” he called from behind the load in his hands. All three hurried to assist him. A look of surprise crossed Mr. Baker’s face as Violet took the bag directly blocking his view.

“Oh, Violet! I wasn’t expecting you,”

“Violet’s staying the night,” Mitch declared before Violet might try to back out.

“That’s wonderful! I’ll be sure to make extra for tonight’s dinner,” Mr. Baker glanced at the side of the fridge. “Willy, looks like you’re my helper tonight,”

“What are we making, Dad?” Willy asked, looking up excitedly from the box of goldish crackers he’d begun devouring.

“Not that,” his father replied, pulling the crackers out of his son’s hands and ruffling his hair before placing the box on a higher shelf. “We’re having spaghetti and meatballs,”

“Yeah! Meatballs! Meatballs! Meatballs!” Willy chanted, searching the fridge for the newly bought ingredients.

Violet’s phone dinged. She pulled it out and answered it immediately, her brow furrowed in concentration as she typed out her response. Once she was done, she glanced up at Mitch who was sitting across from her at the couch. He’d been watching the interaction unfold. “It’s my mom,”

“She know where you are?”

“Yeah. Now she does,”

“Was she the one you were texting earlier?”

Violet shook her head. “That was Louis,”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t fill him in completely,”

Violet rolled her eyes. “You know how he gets about this stuff. He’d drive over and try to force me to stay at his mansion instead,”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“His house is creepy. Nothing but empty rooms and servants who look at me like they’re just waiting to catch me trying to steal some shit. This is better,”

Mitch snorted. “Leave it to Vi to prefer a trailer home to a mansion,”

“You know what I mean,”

Mitch looked over at Willy and his dad who were busy measuring the pasta for dinner. She wasn’t wrong. The location might be ass, but he couldn’t think of any people he’d rather be stuck with.

Mrs. Baker arrived home shortly before dinner was ready. She collapsed wearily in the armchair, her head thrown back and eyes closed. “Mitchell, be a dear and rub my feet, would you?” Mitch quickly acquiesced, giving Violet the stink eye as she smirked at him. He rubbed his mother’s feet gently. She cracked open an eye, giving him a tired smile before glancing over at the couch.

“Violet! What a nice surprise. Are you staying for dinner?”

“She’s staying the night!” Willy called from the kitchen. “We’re gonna have a sleepover!”

“That’s a nice thought dear, but it is a school day tomorrow, so you’ll be heading to bed on time,”

Mitch caught the look his parents exchanged across the room. They knew of Violet’s home life. They’d tried to intervene the first few times she’d come over late at night, calling the police and reporting her father. But without her mother’s testimony there wasn’t a case and Violet’s mother never wavered in her unwillingness to testify.

They all sat down to a family meal a few minutes later, sharing stories of their days and passing food round the table. Violet was included just as much as anyone else. Considering she’d known Mitch for over five years now she was practically family. Mitch noticed his parents’ glances his way as he handed the bread over to Violet. He was pretty sure they thought he had a crush on her, but he wasn’t going to bother correcting them. Violet wasn’t out at home yet; he wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to be. Best to leave that matter alone unless Violet saw fit to do otherwise. Willy was sent off to bed shortly after dinner. After a great deal of protest, he finally went, angrily stomping off in the same pajamas he’d worn all day. Mr. and Mrs. Baker retired to their room as well, leaving Violet and Mitch in the living room.

“Want to head to the roof?” Mitch offered.

Violet simply nodded.

In the years the Bakers had lived in the trailer park, it hadn’t taken Mitch very long to find all the good hiding places. One of the best was on the roof of their home, a small space that could just fit two people. The two of them leaned back against the plastic exterior, watching the sky thoughtfully.

“So,” Violet finally broke the silence, “Bring any hot girls up here yet?”

Mitch snorted. “I wish. How ‘bout you? Getting any action?”

Violet shook her head. “Don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon,”

“Howe High School is a damn wasteland,”

“You can say that again,”

“How about this?” Mitch asked, looking over at Violet. “Let’s make a deal: five years from now when we’re in college we’ll both have smoking hot girlfriends,”

Violet quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t think we can really plan for something like that to happen for sure when-”

“Deal?” Mitch asked, raising his fist for a fist bump.

Violet rolled her eyes good-naturedly, returning the gesture. “Deal,”

“I bet my girlfriend’s gonna be hotter than yours,” Mitch declared, laying back with a smile, his arms behind his head.

Violet scoffed. “Yeah right,”

The two lay there in silence watching the stars and only occasionally speaking, their words casual and off-handed. When it had grown truly dark, they snuck back inside. Mitch gave Violet the blanket that rested across the back of the armchair before wishing her a good-night and heading off to bed himself. It wasn’t much, but he was glad his family was able to offer Violet a place to stay whenever she might need it. He hoped she never hesitated to take them up on that offer.

Setting his alarm for the next day, Mitch rolled under his covers with a groan. He wasn’t looking forward to school tomorrow. It looked like Violet had forgotten her backpack. Knowing her dad, he’d still be asleep in the morning if they wanted to risk stopping by her house and sneaking in to grab it. They’d decided tomorrow if it was worth the risk. With that decided, Mitch sank into the comfort of his pillow and let sleep overtake him.

[walkingdaryls]

Happy birthday?

Type: Timothee Chalamet x reader

Requested by: @80s90steen

“The reader is a famous actress and his wife and she gives birth to their son on his birthday!”

A/N: thank u for this request; here’s my first imagine. I changed it to daughter instead of son..hope you don’t mind!

i loveee timmy ...enjoy! Also, please send requests guys! Check my first post for details:)

Warning(s): pregnancy ? labor? fluff? :))

You sighed loudly as you made your way out of the bathroom, with your hand on your stomach. As your pregnancy went on, it got harder and harder to do such simple things. You smiled lightly upon making eye contact with your husband waiting for you at the couch.

“You okay, babe?” He chuckled.

You nodded, sitting down with him on the couch. He wrapped his arm around you, immediately giving you the warmth you’d been craving.

You looked down at your big tummy, rubbing it carefully, and whispered, “Just one more week until we see you, sweetheart.”

As beautiful your pregnancy journey had been with Timothee, you were more than ready to pop your daughter out. Nine months flew by fast, but you knew you and Timmy were prepared. When you two announced the news on social media, fans from both you and Timothee went absolutely crazy. Your fellow cast members from a movie you’d been filming threw you parties. Same with Timmy. Although you were elated by the constant support your fans were giving you, you and your husband decided to keep most of this journey private. And it worked out great.

God, he was going to be the most amazing father. He’d been practically by your side the entire time. He got excited over the littlest things, and wanted to buy almost everything he saw. When the baby first kicked at 2am one night, he immediately jumped up and facetimed Armie to show him everything. He stuck with you and was still utterly in love with you even through your mood swings, pain, weeks where you refused to shave because you couldn’t reach, and so on. Your heart was so full for him, you just couldn’t believe that you two were soon going to have your own family.

“We’re so excited, babygirl. Momma and I love you. You’re gonna be the best late birthday gift ever,” your husband whispered, leaning down, pressing one firm kiss to your stomach. As you ran your hand through his soft curls, you gushed at how lovely he was.

“Alright, ready to start the movie?” Timothee nodded, choosing the movie he wanted and pressing play. It was your husband’s birthday, and you’d spent the entire day together. It was a warm day full of kisses, laughter, gifts, and cake. He truly loved you more than anything in the world, and vice versa. So to finish the day off, you let him choose a film to watch together.

Getting comfortable, you both leaned into each others embrace, eyes set on the tv screen. As the movie went on, he kept his hand on your belly, as if he were protecting your daughter. You thought it was the cutest thing ever. You always felt completely safe in his arms.

As the movie went on, your cravings got the best of you. You bit your lip, and got up slowly, “I’m gonna go get some more cake. You want a slice?”

Timothee paused the movie, quickly looking up, “Yes, but hey-hey I’ll get it, baby.”

“Timothee, I’m heavily pregnant, yes, but I can walk. You just chill and keep watching, okay? I’ll be back,” You convinced him. He reluctantly resumed the movie as you waddled over to your kitchen. You hummed to yourself, opening the fridge. You practically drooled at the sight of the slices of chocolate cake. Your arm extended out to grab one when it suddenly happened.

Something that felt like a waterfall suddenly began to run down your legs. You froze, taking a few seconds to really realize what the fuck just happened. Your water broke. You glanced over at Timothee sprawled across the couch in the living room. He hadn’t noticed anything, his focus was still on the tv.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I still had another week or so! What the fuck am I supposed to say to him without giving him a heart attack?

Without thinking, you made your way over to the living room. Timothee’s eyes furrowed since your hands weren’t holding the cake, but you spoke before giving him any chance to.

“My water just broke,” was all you said. There was completely silence.

You whispered, “...Happy birthday?”

And chaos broke out.

Timothee’s eyes were now wider than you’d ever seen them. He grabbed your face gently, slightly trembling. You didn’t notice til now that you were shaking, as well.

“Okay, baby. It’s happening,” He whispered.

“It’s happening,” You said back, suddenly feeling more scared than ever.

Timothee literally sprinted to your storage closet where he whipped out your emergency hospital bag. And in just mere minutes, you two were in the car, speeding to the hospital. The entire ride there, Timothee held squeezed your hand, assuring you nonstop.

“It’s alright, baby. We know what to do, okay?” He kissed your fingers, with his gaze still on the road, “We can do this. We’re gonna be parents.”

You were so nervous the entire time, you barely even remember how you ended up in the hospital room, in labor. You decided to not go with a completely natural birth, since the pain scared the shit out of you.

It all happened so fast, almost like a blur (due to the medicine). All you could outline in your mind was Timothee by your side the entire time, never ever letting go of your hand. The birth was easy from what you remember, just a bit of pressure in your lower area.

Hours later, you laid on the bed, sweaty and completely exhausted. You felt sticky, with hair matted to your forehead. But Timothee was there with you on the bed, in tears.

There was your baby girl, Margot, sleeping tenderly in your arms. She was absolutely the most precious thing you’d ever set eyes on. She held a small grip onto your finger, breathing softly. The second you felt Timothee let out a quiet sob next to you, you lost it as well. Soon, you were both sobbing messes over your new family.

Timothee kissed Margot gently on her small forehead and whispered, “Welcome, darling. We love you so much. Oh god, so so much.”

You sniffed, with your heart full of love for your family. You and Timothee now had your own family. How beautiful that sounded to you.

“Timmy...you two have the same birthday,” You said softly. He locked eyes with you, a wide grin set on his face. Timothee truly thought you were the most beautiful person. With no hesitation, he passionately kissed you.

“I love you both so fucking much. This family is my everything. My world,” He whispered.

You shed a few more tears, kissing him again before saying, “I love you, Timmy.” You looked down at the precious life you’d created, “And I love you.”

Your own little, precious family.

-

@80s90steen hope you liked it!

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home- Chapter 8

Warnings: Dirty talk. Phone sex. Language. Angst.

True to his word, Chris called. He called once he’d landed and so courteously obliged you with one text every other day, or so. You’d baited him with the glorious bright idea that the two of you could goes rounds with the “friends with benefits” gag like it was freshman year of college, or something. So, who you were to even begin to pout about his less than romantic behavior?

He wasn’t a bad man, in the least. Chris didn’t have a cruel, purposely hateful or rude bone in his body, unless the necessity for behavior as such presented itself. You knew he wasn’t treating you cold just for pointless giggles, he was simply... obeying what he was sure you had agreed to only a week earlier.

Now, back home to the safe, familiar corners of Boston, you settled back into your schedule at the coffee shop with your parents. The editorial was due for print next month, and Tess assuredly told you that more work would indeed be coming your way, after your excellent impression in Malibu. But, until then, you’d need a paycheck somehow, so pouring lattes it was.

One Thursday, later in the afternoon when most normal individuals avoid caffeine, the shop was a weary ghost town. There’d be a light rush around 5 p.m. when the night shift crew made their round, but for the most part, all was silent. Until the rambunctious, raspy screech of one Scott Evans paraded himself through the entryway. He was handsome, like his brother, and as equally bombastic. Being the pridefully excellent judge of character he was, Scott had always kept a giggling eye on the way you pined after his older brother, but never saying an open word about your secret crush to anyone. Only occasionally, he’d shake his head, or hold back at laugh at your staring, or girlish blushes toward Chris.

He was leading Dodger by the leash at his side, the pup calmly sniffing around the display counters & hunting for some sort of crumb.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Millie. For God sakes.” He coolly lashed with a sarcastic smile, leaning forward to kiss your cheek over the counter.

“How could I not be thrilled to see my very favorite Evans spawn?” You bat your caky, day-old lashes at him.

“That’s not what a little birdy told me....”

Mortification made over your face, pupils explosive with the horrified, shit-eating grin forming across his smug face. Chris has spilled the beans...

Big mouth bastard & his shameless brotherly bond.

“Don’t start with me, Scott Evans, or I swear I’ll-“

“You’ll what?! Roll around in the Malibu sand with me like you did Chris? No thanks, angel. However gorgeous, you know you aren’t my type.”

You smashed your hot forehead to the coolness of the freshly cleaned granite countertop near the cash register. A fight was useless with this one. He’d only tease, and tease the more defenses you put up.

“Relax, Amelia. You know there’s no judgment here! I’m happy you finally got a taste of what all your teenage dreams were made of...” Scott suppressed a wailing laugh momentarily, before turning loose into a full-on fit of hysterics.

“What the hell do you want? My pride can’t take any more of your jokes today.”

“I’m watching this guy at my place while Chris is gone, but I’m heading out on a red eye tonight. Chris said you and Dodge hit it off, so he was wondering if you could go by his place tonight & settle Dodgy here in? I’ll be back Saturday night, so I just need to you check in on him tonight, and tomorrow evening.”

You worked haphazardly whipping together Scott’s predictable to-go order, scrunching your face at his suggestions.

“I’d really owe you. As would my dreamy older brother, too....”

As if that was supposed to convince you. It didn’t convince you, did it?...

Dodger whimpered on the other side of the counter, lunging on his back legs to see what you were doing running around fitfully in circles. His big ol’ brown eyes were no match for your objections. They had almost half the convincing power that the blue ones belonging to his owner did.

“Fine. Alright, alright. But, only for him. It’s got nothing to do with you asshole brothers, you hear me?” Your weak intimidation only made Scott laugh all the more.

Slinging the sweet pup a treat from the doggy jar on the shelf, and stealing a swig of Scott’s beverage before handing it over, the pair of them glided to the exit.

“Thank you! Have I told you that you’re my favorite blonde? Well, my favorite blonde barista. Or fashion blogger, or whatever you’re doing these days?” He winked & the glass door sealed behind him.

You picked up the key he’d left behind on the counter, eyeballing it hard. A faint part of your heart had once daydreamed about being giving a key to his home, but certainly not in this regard...

…

When closing time rolled around, you flicked off each switch around the shop, turning the sign opposite of “open” and your phone dinged inside the pocket of your cardigan.

C: Call when you get to my place. I’ll give you the rundown on bub’s nighttime routine. And thank you, Mills :)

You remembered every turn towards the quiet seclusion of his cabin home despite only visiting once. Much had changed since your last time here, and yet so much seemed slightly the same in all the wrong ways.

Dodger was panting & galloping clumsily over the hardwood floors when you entered, sniffing & drooling under your feet. It took you a handful of seconds to locate where in the world the light for the foyer was, playing roulette with the dozen switches on the walls.

“Let’s call your dad, big guy. I bet your hungry.”

The phone barely competed two rings before Chris picked up.

“Hey, you. Make it safe?”

“All in one piece, yep! But, something tells me if I don’t feed this animal, I may not survive much longer.”

Chris laughed. That laugh that would’ve seemed like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Right. Head towards the kitchen, & his jar of food is on the bottom shelf of the pantry. You’ll see it as soon as you open the door. He gets two scoops, and just check his water if you don’t mind, too.”

Following his thorough instruction, you served Dodger his dinner, seeing that his bowl of water was fresh, then walked him out back for a bathroom break before bed. Chris chatted with you on the line, small talking about his day on set, and the amazing desert he snuck at dinner going against his trainers’ orders.

“I think I’ve got it all taken care of. Anything else you need me to do before I head home?”

You heard his bed creak a bit in the background as if he was flopping around to get comfortable.

“Check my bedroom for Dodge’s lion. The little baby won’t sleep without it.”

He giggled at the amusement of you turning wrong corners & blindly navigating his hallways in search of the master-bedroom. You’d never been farther than the kitchen, after all.

Sadly...

His bedroom was warm with welcome, and the walls climbing with an unstifled, comforting feeling of home, even without his presence. Your senses heightened, tickling on end, with the many traces of him strewn around the room. A half-emptied bottle of water by his bedside lamp, a photo of his entire family framed from a premiere red carpet next to it. A tainted, overly worn pair of blue sneakers discarded beside his dresser, and one of his leather jackets haphazardly folded on the arm of a lounge chair. Dodger’s precious lion lay at the foot of Chris’ lush California king right where he said it would be.

“The lion is patiently waited in your bed for Dodger. Shall I tuck the two of them in before I lock up?”

He was eerily silently. Dangerously so.

“Sit on my bed, Amelia.” What was it about the way he said your proper name? It made you want to cower sheepishly, like it was some form of scolding. Yet, it was still so unbelievably… dark, and compellingly delicious.

You boosted with a teeny jump, sitting yourself on the very edge of his bed, perplexed. Smelling the scent of him locked into the covers.

“It’s a dream, isn’t it? And people wonder why I’m such a hermit sometimes. Lay down for a minute and see for yourself, I insist.” You could almost hear that dopey, toothy smile curve all the way up to his ears.

“What’s your game here, Evans? I need some sleep at some point tonight, ya’ know?”

“I bet you look fuckin’ heavenly laying yourself across my pillow, Millie. Is your hair down? Wild, and curly?”

A surge flickered at the center below the waistband of your jeans.

“Y-yeah…”

Chris hummed. It was a growl, more so. Rotten, and sinful, and wretched with sexual intent.

“And I bet, since it was warmer today in Boston, according to my mom, you’re wearing one of those thin, slinky little shirts you love that barely, barely hide what’s under your lace bra…”

Images of him sucking, and rolling what’s under that indeed lace bra hung up in your throat, threatening to choke the life out of you.

“I’d really love to see what’s under there, Millie. Kick your shoes off, and lay back, sweetheart.”

Without question, you obeyed his every command like a sheep to the slaughter, your nipples hardening as they caught up to the arousal his luscious voice had prompted.

“Tell me, Mills. Do you wish I was there with you? In my bed, right now?”

You’d never believed in the schemes of hypnosis. Obviously, because there was “no way your mind was weak enough to be manipulated by something as such.”

End quote.

But his snaky smooth, rumbling, throaty accent on the other end of the phone brainwashed you.   

“Yes.”

High fives all around for Amelia Calvert’s ability to play coy, and hard to get.

“And, would you let me touch you? I really, really want- no, need, to touch you, beautiful.”

You wouldn’t just let him touch you. In fact, you’d beg mercilessly for him to take your every body part into his veined hands.

“Are you asking to go to 2nd base with me, Christopher Evans?”

And so, it began. The sexual, meaningless, no-strings relationship that you had so very, very foolishly advised. It felt like some form of cruel punishment, but you’d hold up your end of the bargain, however empty, used, and desperately pathetic it made you feel. And then, you’d allow yourself to crumble in pain later.

“I’m asking to run the whole fuckin’ field with you, Amelia. But, I’d settle for 2nd base.” Chris answered without a stutter of second guess.

“I’m thinking about your hands on me right now, too. Tugging through my hair as I kiss you. Hard. Do you know where I’d put my hands, baby?”

There were a few guesses, but, what fun would it be the fill in the blanks? However much you hated the arrangement, the hot spot between your legs was thumping with anticipation.

“Nnn-no. Where would you put them?”

“I’d have to begin with a squeeze to those round, screamingly perky tits, first and foremost. Then, I’d pet all the way down, counting your ribs slowly, whispering the numbers in your ear as I went downward…. Do you know what I would do next, Mil?”

In some sort of blood pumping, sex-crazed trance, you had wriggled loose the button of your jeans and the seems of your panties stretched as your hand fiddled inside them.

“Tell me.”

He was whispering moans now. Carps of a yearning, feverish nature scratched through the speaker of your phone, and you wanted to cry in ecstasy knowing he was undoubtably shirtless, and his straining muscles sweating and sticking to the sheets of his bed.

“I’d tuck my hand inside your pants, too eager to worry with pulling down your zipper, and touch your softest spot. I bet it would be warm, too. And wet for me, Millie. Is it wet for me?”

Surprised that he couldn’t hear the sloshing, water-like sounds coming from your side of the line as you slid between your folds, you answered.

“Definitely. Unbelievably.”

“I wanna feel it, Millie. Taste it on my lips for days after you’ve left me.”

His bed where you lay squeaked when your back arched in an imaginative fit, ruminating thoughts of the texture of his tongue.

“Touch yourself like I would touch you. Arch your back just as your finger skims over your fucking greedy clit.”

“Are you…? Are you touching yourself, too? Touching like I would touch?”

“How would you touch me, Amelia. Talk to me, gorgeous. Tell me how you want me to touch myself.”

Your building trembles captured you, and truly the idea of him touching his hardness didn’t quench your whines. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to take the plush of him into the palms of your hands. But with the distance of another time zone, this night, you’d resolve with him thinking thoughts of you as he relieved himself.

“Squeeze yourself, Chris. Hard with both hands at first,” your voice quaked and broke with the spasms inside your belly. “Then, go so slow from top to bottom. So slow it almost makes you angry.”

Your hand fisted in his feather pillow beneath your head, hair matted from twisting & writhing with impending orgasm. Chris was silent for a moment. Well, silent from words. His continual mewls desperately crying in your ear, you swore your name was mixed into the soundtrack of his unwinding.  

“Pull off your pants, Millie. I want you to spill out onto my sheets so I can lie in your come when I get home and into my bed. I wanna smell your sweetness.”

Your finger attempted to cramp, unable to keep up with the swirling fast circles you spun around your bulb. With jeans pooled around your ankles, your heels dug in to sturdy yourself.

“I’m so- I’m close, Chris. I feel like I’m going to fucking explode.”

“I’m with you, baby. Your voice alone is making me crazy hard. You sound so fucking desperate for me, and I swear, I’m losing it.”

All went black, and the vision behind your sealed lids was like a rippling kaleidoscope of fiery reds, and white-hot clouds of a volcano. The wet release of your orgasmic liquid tickled out of your entrance, sliding down your legs and curving below you off the curve of your rear cheeks.

As if your squeal was his switch, a glutenous, muffled yell scratched from Chris’ chest indicating his own eruption.

You didn’t know what to say when the clouds of orgasm had passed over. The moment felt strange, being your first sexual exchange with him, and suddenly a shyness caught your tongue.

“Mil, you still here?”

“Yes.” Was all you could muster.

“Are you okay? I mean, what’s going on? That was okay, right…?”

“Of course, Chris. It was, phenomenal. Was it for you?”

Sure, the twinges of your southern lips felt phenomenal. But, lets evaluate your heart right now. 

“Sweetheart, the mess I’ve got spilled out onto my belly right now speaks for itself.”

Oh, you blushed. Dodger looked up at you from standing at the side of the bed, recognizing the voice of his dad now that he’s tenor was back to its’ normal octave.

“It’s a bit late. Why don’t you sleep there tonight? Dodger would love the company, anyways. You’d have the whole place to yourself.”

The idea didn’t sound completely absurd. And truthfully, after such a raunchy, cheap exchange with him, you liked the intimacy of him wanting you to stay in his home while he was away, no matter what the motive may be.

“Earth to Amelia. Talk to me. Get out of your head, worry wort.” He shook you to reality.

“Just tonight. Only because it’s late, and it seems to be storming out.”

“Dresser by the closet door. Top left drawer.”

“Huh?”

He laughed. “Just get up and go to the drawer, Ameila.”

You pulled your legs loose from your pants, knowing you’d have to clean yourself up before sleeping. You opened the specific drawer to find it stocked with square folded t-shirts. The enclosed space full of cotton immediately smelled of him.

“You’ll need something to sleep in, I’m assuming. So, take your pick. And help yourself to my shower. There’s some weird minty shit that my sister left the last time she stayed over, you can use it so you don’t have to use my soap.”

Your chest wanted to heave out a giddy, girly squeak. It appeared from his thought-out suggestions, that he had pre-planned you sleeping over when asking you to check in on his pup.

“Hotel Evans, huh? You better hope you don’t have any Brigham’s in your freezer…” It was the ice cream you’d both grown up on being Bostonians, and Chris could eat it by the gallon.

“Help yourself to whatever, buddy! What’s mine is yours, of course.”

Gulp.

Buddy….?

You felt that sick, putrid, sour taste of cheap slithering up your throat again. He smacked you, unintentionally, with a punitive dose of reality. You were only his friend. He couldn’t do anything more right now. No chances of a term other than buddy being exchanged between the likes of whatever this was. And suddenly, the welcomed invitation to his bed no longer appealed.

“Thanks… buddy. Steer me in the direction of your guest room, and I’ll let you get to sleep yourself.”

“Don’t start with that shit, Mil. Sleep in my bed. You’ll definitely be more comfortable there. And Dodger keep a close eye on you, too. No arguments!” He scoffed.

More comfortable? Oh, but you wouldn’t be. The stanch fragrance of his cologne would suffocate you all night, you just knew it. Yet, there was still no other place you’d rather be than tucked into the indention on his side of the bed.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way! Good night, Evans. Get your beauty rest. Your ugly mug needs it.”

“Night, Mils. Make sure you activate the alarm before you go to sleep. I’ll call you bright and early to check in.”

You’d turned your back, and Dodge was already nestling and settling into the spot on the mattress next to where you’re sure Chris slept, his stuffed lion close by.

“Oh! And Millie?”

“Yep?”

“Dream of me. After the noises I heard from your pretty mouth tonight, I know I won’t be able to think of anything else.” 

Tags: @miidailyinspiration @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegood-blog

[loving-barnes]

SPILL YOUR GUTS – BUCKY BARNES

(A/N): Inspired by the fucking disgusting game by James Corden. :D I think that is all you need to know. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Tony Stark has a special game night for his co-workers.

Warning: language, vomiting 

Words: 2800+

FULL MASTERLIST | BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

SPILL YOUR GUTS – BUCKY BARNES

~ Dear residents of this compound, I have a very important announcement.~

Y/N looked up on the ceiling of her room, frowning. Who dared to interrupt her free time that she wanted to spend with a good book? The answer was Stark. Tony only spoke to the team when a thread was knocking on the door and they needed to protect the people of their country – or somewhere else in the world. This was pretty unusual. She listened closely, expecting another mission.

~ It’s been a while since we had time off and that is why I am announcing a night full of booze and games. I know that you are not interested in massive crowds and a real party ala Stark so this one will be just about us. I will be awaiting you in the living room at eight in the evening. You don’t have to wear anything fancy. I highly recommend wearing something comfortable. Thank you for your time and see you later.~

She kinked a brow, confused by the announcement. “What the fuck?” she mumbled under the nose. Pushing the thoughts away, she continued reading the book she was holding in her hands. This was her time off and she needed to enjoy it as much as possible… or at least until a knock on the door interrupted her. “Yes?” she asked, permitting entrance into her room.

Natasha peaked in with a grimace on her face “Do you know what that was all about?”

“Does my interest show that I know anything about it?” Y/N questioned, eyes never leaving the book. “For a moment I thought we have another mission, which would be the fourth one in ten days.”

“What I’m more worried are Tony’s stupid games,” Natasha came closer to the bed, sitting down on it. “If we play strip poker or spin the bottle, I will kick him in the balls, hard. I’m out. I am not a teenager.”

That made her laugh. “Same here, sister,” Y/N replied slowly. Her brain was processing the story she was currently reading and thus didn’t have time for a conversation with Natasha. “Same. Here.”

The redhead frowned, ready to take the book out of her hand when another knock interrupted them. The door opened and a tall man came in. Y/N took her head up from the book only to show how annoyed she was becoming. The people didn’t let her finish the damn book.

“Hey,” he greeted both of them, eyes locking on Y/n. Her feature immediately changes since it was the guy who she has been crushing on for months now. “Do you know what Stark was talking about?” Bucky asked while scratching his nape.

The woman simply shook her head while Natasha smirked. “Basically, we are all confused and wondering about the same thing. No matter who you ask, they won’t know what is going on. Maybe you should talk to the source – Tony.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky nodded, as he lowered his head. “We should, uh,” he shook his head, coming back to Earth. “I’m- I’m heading to the pool. Would you like to join me?” he asked. “Steve and Sam are coming too.”

“No, thanks,” said Natasha.

Y/N smiled at him. “I’m enjoying my book but thank you for the invitation.”

Bucky put a smile on his face and even though he was a bit disappointed that Y/N didn’t want to join him, he understood her decision. He knew how she loved books and it was adorable. “Well, ladies, see you at eight,” and with that, he left them alone.

When the door closed, the redhead turned to Y/N who, again, was reading the book. “Okay, so you won’t even look at me but when Barnes appears, you have your eyes on him, drooling until he leaves. Oh, girl, you got it bad – very, very bad.”

“Bad what?” Y/N asked, not lifting her eyes to look at her friend.

“See? You are doing it again,” she sighed. “And, you are not even listening to me. You know what?” she stood up, obviously pissed that her friend was ignoring her. “One day, you will pay for this, Y/N. There will come an opportunity when you will curse this very moment. Your ignorance is going to punish you,” she sounded dramatic.

Y/N’s eyes finally lifted up and focused on the redhead. “I will give you an advice, Nat. Stop watching How I Met Your Mother all the time. You are slowly becoming Barney Stinson – the dramatic voice, the need for revenge. You are obsessed and you need to stop. Seriously, Nat. For me, Barney was annoying in the first season and so are you.”

The redhead was offended a little. Her friends thought she was annoying. Frowning, she left the room, leaving Y/N to finisher her book. Natasha knew she would find a way how to get back at her. Maybe tonight was the night…

…

The whole team was invited to the living room by Tony at seven in the evening. They all had to come at the same time for the small surprised that the mad billionaire/party mad made for them. Everyone was expecting crazy things – from strippers to expensive alcohol. However, what they saw in front of them was unexpected. In the middle of the room, there was a massive round table surrounded by many chairs. On top of the table, there were tiny plates filled with weird looking food. Each plate had a note, obviously explaining the name of it.

“What’s that?” Steve pointed at it when he came closer. When he noticed the names and the actual things that were supposed to be eaten, he almost puked. “Tony, what the hell is this?”

“Please, come, sit,” he called for the rest of the team, taking a seat. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise.”

Y/N cursed under her nose. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have shown him that.” This particular game came from a show that she showed him days ago. They were playing this game called Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts.

Sam started to laugh. “As much as disgusting this is, I cannot wait what will happen tonight.”

“We have everything,” Tony started to explain while the rest of the team took a seat around the table. “If you need to puke, hurl, each of you has a bin under your legs. Now, I believe you all can read what I have prepared for us – a fucking ton of disgusting shit that obviously some people around the world eat. Here’s how the game works.” Clearly, he was very enjoying this. “One, starting with me, will choose a person and turns the table with a concrete type of food towards him or her. I will ask a question and the person either truly answers or must eat what is in front of him.”

The groans and the pained moans filled the air. Everyone was cursing their life at the very moment. “This is a twisted version of truth or date,” Wanda sighed, eyes scanning the food. “My stomach is not ready for this.”

“Let’s start with our most favourite person here,” Tony grinned, turning the table while looking directly at the Captain. “Steve, why don’t we give you the Bird saliva,” he suggested and stopped turning the table once a glass with weird liquid was in front of him.

Steve sniffed it a little, cursing. “What the fuck?” he hid his nose with the palm of his hand. “Tony, what have I done to you?” he questioned.

“Rogers,” Tony was staring into his eyes, “because you now live in a modern world where people are exploring different things such as sexuality, kinks and more, have you ever went out of your comfort zone and tried something new regarding sex and even with the same gender?”

Most of the members gasped, eyes almost popping out. They were shocked by the question but they would be lying if they hadn’t thought about it before. Steve was exploring a lot of things since he woke up and many of them believed that he went crazy in the sex life department.

The Captain looked down at the glass, then at the rest of his friends. He shook his head. “Typical Stark,” he sighed, defeated. He wasn’t feeling like putting that thing into his mouth.

“Come on, man, tell us,” Sam goaded him.

“I did explore a lot of new things when it comes to sex,” Steve said quickly. “Fortunately, it was with a woman that I have been secretly dating for the past few months,” he admitted.

There were whistles coming from around the table. “So you have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us?” Natasha kinked a brow. “Wow, Rogers, you are becoming a man typical from the 21st century.”

“Very good, Steve,” Tony grinned. “Now, it’s your turn to pick a person, give them one of the plates and ask him or her something.”

“Sam,” Steve almost shouted and he put in front of him a plate with the title Bull’s penis. People around him made vomiting sounds. “Has ever a woman said to you that you were terrible in bed?”

There was immediate silence. Wilson kept staring into Roger’s eyes, obviously angry at the question. There was a time, especially when alcohol was involved when he would brag about his amazing sex life and how chicks were always begging for more. Without another word, he unwillingly took a piece of the food and shoved it into his mouth.

“No,” Tony screamed. Bucky turned away and Natasha almost puked. “Fuck that is disgusting.”

“Romanoff,” Sam turned to the redhead once he stopped spitting into the bin. “I have my eye on you,” he took a deep breath, grinning. “Rank these people from best to worst: Wanda, Y/N and Maria.” And a plate called cod sperm landed in front of her.

Both girls immediately had their eyes on her, waiting for the answer. “I cannot do that. That’s… that’s not fair, Wilson.”

“Oh, but it is,” Y/N laughed. “Come on, Nat. You can do it.”

“What, ranking my friends?”

“No, eating the cod sperm.”

Everyone laughed except the woman. When she smelled the cod sperm, she had her head immediately pointing at the bin, ready to hurl. “Fuck, fucking fuck, I hate you, Wilson.” Without thinking, she put a piece of that nasty thing into her mouth and ate it. The rest of the people had to clap.

“Nice job, Romanoff. We knew you liked doing dirty things,” Bucky commented.

Natasha’s eyes went from him to Y/N who was sitting almost opposite of him, and back. She licked her lips, straightened her back and started to turn the table. “My dearest, beloved Y/N,” she started slowly, innocently. “Let’s have some sardine smoothie,” and a glass filled with a heavy liquid stopped in front of her. “I even bet there is a lot of milk in it.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, knowing there was no way she would put that into her mouth. Y/N had a heavy dairy allergy and therefore she couldn’t drink it, otherwise, she would be sick. “You are dead, Romanoff.”

And the grin plastered on her face didn’t go away. “Is it true,” she was talking slowly, making it painful and stressful for Y/N, “that you are in love with a certain man,” she took a deep breath, squinting. Y/N’s heart was beating rapidly. “And that man’s name is Sergeant James Barnes?”

There was a collective gasp and the team turned their eyes towards Y/N. They were waiting for an answer, some of them becoming more nervous thanks to the silence that had spread around. Bucky stopped breathing and focused his blue eyes on the woman, hoping she would confess. At that moment he didn’t want anything else than to hear that she was in love with him.

“I, uh-“ she stuttered.

“Come on, Y/N. You can do it,” Natasha had to be a pain in the ass. “It is very simple.”

Y/N’s eyes met with Bucky’s, stopping on them for a brief moment and then immediately looking down at the sardine smoothie. She couldn’t risk the friendship they had. This confession would ruin everything and she knew it. Without thinking, she grabbed the smoothie and took a massive gulp of it, swallowing with immense difficulty. She couldn’t figure out what was more disgusting, the smoothie or the fact that there was milk in it or that Natasha made her do this.

While the team was disappointed that they did not receive an answer from her, Bucky felt heartbroken that she had chosen the damn smoothie that was making her sick.

“Y/N,” he said her name gently but she just quickly stood up from the table, running away with her hand over mouth. He knew she got sick from the smoothie and the milk. A second later, she was gone.

“Thanks, Natasha,” he growled, standing up from the table, obviously pissed at his friends. “Do you even know what you have done?” he questioned, not waiting for an answer and leaving the room to see Y/N. He knew she would be sick for a couple of hours, if not more than a day.  

He went down the hallway to the stairs that went one level down where Y/N had her room. When he arrived, he noticed that the door wasn’t closed properly. Taking a deep breath, he decided to enter without knocking. But then he heard a soft cry coming from inside. He knew she was crying.

“Y/N?” he called her name gently, fearing she would throw him away from her room.

“Leave me alone,” she responded, sobbing. Her voice was coming from the bed. When Bucky came inside, he found her hidden under the sheets, hiding from the rest of the world. “Fucking Natasha,” she mumbled, sneezing. “She has to ruin everything.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his flesh hand on top of the human pile. “Talk to me, doll,” his voice was sweet. “What did Natasha ruin – besides your stomach?”

There was a silence for a brief moment until she decided to uncover and focus on something else than him. “Our friendship,” she answered his question. “The game night, my stomach, our friendship– just everything.”

“And why do you think that?”

Before she could reply, Y/N flew out the bed like a rocket, shutting the door of the bathroom behind her. The noise of someone vomiting followed a few seconds later. “Fuck,” she groaned, flushing the toilet.

Bucky went to the bathroom to see her. He didn’t care about the state she was in – whether she was puking with strange noises or having diarrhoea. When he opened the door, she was hugging the toilet and her face played with several colours. She was indeed very sick from the dairy product. Without a word, he came closer to her, very gently took her head and stayed with her through the whole vomiting. She couldn’t protest, she couldn’t push him away. Y/N was weak and sick to her stomach.

“You good?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” she took a deep breath. “I believe I am done.”

“I can bring you a herb tea if you’d like,” he gave her a reassuring smile and helped her stand up from the toilet.

“Why are you still here?” she questioned. “After seeing this, after everything that happened you are still here.”

He chuckled while she cleaned her mouth and washed her hands and face. “It is very simple,” he bit his lower lip and crossed arms over his pectorals. “I love you.”

Y/N slowly turned around to face him, water dripping down her face. “What?”

Bucky’s fingers gently brushed her hair away. “I love you, gorgeous and I know you love me too.” He made a step closer to her, still smiling. “Actually, I kind of knew for some time,” he chuckled. “And what you did during the game only proved me right.”

The way he was approaching her, leaning closer to kiss her, she was becoming nervous. A sudden realisation hit her that not a minute ago, she was vomiting into the toilet. “Y-you want to kiss me, right?” it was barely a whisper.

“I do, Y/N,” he winked at her.

She stopped him before any action could happen. “I need to clean my teeth first,” she blushed. “You have seen what happened not long ago and I can’t do that if…”

“I don’t fucking care,” he shook his head, grabbed her by her lower back and kissed her deeply. If this wasn’t love then it who knew what it could be. When they looked at each other, they both smiled at each other like teenager’s first kiss.

“You must really like me,” said Y/N, grinning.

“Why do you think that?” his hands rested on her waist, never letting her go.

“You kissed me after I fucking puked. You must really have a strong stomach, Barnes.”

“Yeah, I must fucking love you a lot, Y/L/N.” And again, he gave her another kiss.