#EVERY TIME I THOUGHT I WAS DONE I REMEMBERED SOMETHING ELSE

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[hoonigiris]

JEALOUSY

p. sunghoon x f!reader

0.9k

just silly shenanigans from a chronically jealous guy (he can’t help it he was born this way, just check his birth chart!!!)

“i think i need to lock you up.”

you slide your eyes over to him, exasperated. “what…”

sunghoon mutters under his breath, nodding seriously as he repeats the idea in his head until it sounds more plausible than insane. “yeah…” and then again, softer, “yeah…”

“nurse,” you call out to the empty air, “he’s out again.”

he looks at you gravely, shaking his head. “i think it needs to be done. for the greater good.”

“what am i, rapunzel?”

sunghoon opens his mouth to retort, but the image of you as a princess in that pretty, purple dress has him sidetracked and pondering. “that would be a good couple costume this year—flynn and rapunzel.”

“personally, i was thinking more rapunzel and mother gothel.”

the dreamy look in his eye drops almost immediately, suddenly remembering the reason he burst into the living room in the first place. whatever it was, nothing was worth interrupting you in the middle of a grey’s anatomy episode.

sunghoon moves in front of the tv, feet planted and stance determined. you crane your neck to the side to catch a better look of the screen. “can you move? dr. mcsteamy is in this scene and he’s extra hot this season.”

“wh—listen!”

you roll your eyes, pausing the show. “yes?”

“i’m serious!”

“about mother gothel?”

“about locking you up!”

you tilt your head, innocent. “isn’t that what i just said?”

sunghoon groans loudly, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut to fight off an incoming headache. you’d almost feel bad for making his life harder if the threat of imminent captivity wasn’t looming over your head.

but he’s your boyfriend, and he’s obnoxious, and you love him anyway, so you toss the remote on the couch cushion next to you and you give him a smidge of what he wants. you like to call it a pity crumb.

"ok fine, i'll stop teasing," you relent, leaning into the couch with an amused glint in your eye. "why am i under arrest and why is it for the greater good?"

you have some vague idea, of course. any time sunghoon acts like this, the reasoning always lands somewhere around him being jealous, which, as frequent as it comes, is something you’ve learned to take in stride. play dumb, laugh at his antics, give him a kiss, and everything settles back to normal.

the reasoning tended to differ each time, enough to consider creating an encyclopedia page to study from, so you like to make it a game of sorts, to see if you can guess it correctly before he tells you. it’s the closest thing you’ll ever get to the thrill of being on an episode of jeopardy, so you like to relish in the challenge while you can. topic: things that make sunghoon jealous, for 500.

“you’re too…” sunghoon starts, taking you out of your proverbial podium and back to the couch, dr. mcsteamy and mcdreamy blocked behind him. he narrows his eyes, searching for the right word. “unassuming.”

“unassuming,” you repeat, bemused.

"yes." sunghoon knits his brows together, tortured at even the thought. "why else would you have come home with a coffee. from another man."

you look at him quizzically, and then remember how this morning, your classmate who you kept running into every morning at your local cafe offered to buy your drink. you'd accepted, of course; who were you to deny a perfectly innocent gift?

"oh please," you roll your eyes. "he was just being nice! besides, i'm sure he just did it since i helped him finish his lab report on time the other week."

sunghoon frowns. "he was hitting on you. he has motive."

you stare up at him with big, innocent eyes, like a defendant in front of the jury. "how could you ask me to look a gift horse in the mouth... especially when the horse had a cinnamon honey latte."

"because the horse wants to eat you!"

"but it was free!"

sunghoon whips out his phone, tapping a few times, and a ding! sounds from your own phone on the coffee table. you glance over, and try not to laugh.

VENMO sunghoon paid you $6.00 - 😐

"there," he huffs. "if you want free coffee, i'll pay for it from now on, okay?"

you eye him, amused. "if i say yes, will you free me from my predestined shackles?"

he opens his mouth and you can tell by his expression he's about to get started again, so you rescind yourself quickly. "okay, okay. consider it done."

it's sweet, in some way, to have him care this much, even if he makes such a big fuss about it. there's something in his gaze that bleeds earnestness, even through the indignancy, that makes you want to peel him back more. jealousy is an ugly beast, even if you think it looks cute and amusing on him, and often you wonder if it consumes him, if he allows it to lead his thoughts astray.

(it was so easy to fall for you—he couldn’t blame others for doing the same. and if you ended up leaving him for someone else then—well. sunghoon tries to stop it before he gets to that point.)

"hoon," you call gently, and he physically softens at the nickname. you wonder how one word can mean so many things—my love, my heart, my home. all yours. "you know i love you, right?"

he flushes at the sudden confession, ears turning scarlet. and then quietly, sincerely, he mumbles, “i love you too.” perhaps that’s the secret, the reason you can be so flippant about everything, suspiciously free coffee and all.

at the end of the end of the day, you’ll always be his, too.

[2blockseast]

nights like this (logan howlett x gn reader)

summary: plagued by memories of his ex-lover, logan seeks out their counterpart for comfort. author's note: hey y'all, i hope you're all doing well! i've been simmering on this one for awhile but uni has gotten in the way so it took some time to finish. i'm sorry if the ending feels abrupt... i again blame uni for stealing mental energy from me, lol. anyways, i hope you enjoy! please feel free to send requests. i appreciate you all, stay safe! writing is purposefully in all lowercase; mildly proofread. tags: worst!logan, readers gender not mentioned, human reader (both universes), angst, comfort, happy ending word count: 2,275

nights like this

it was another sleepless night for logan. he was laying on the couch in wade’s apartment, staring at the ceiling and begrudgingly focusing on the deep ache in his chest. he felt weighted down both emotionally and physically, and despite his attempts to think of something positive, his mind kept drawing him back into the depths of his own despair. 

he was replaying every horrible thing that he had ever done, the memory of his murderous rampage at the forefront. his memories were horrifyingly vivid, with his the memory of the slaughter being so strong he swore he could smell blood. he could almost feel the slick of the blood against his hands, and he remembered how he had felt the fire within him rage on at the feeling. the ache in his chest only intensified at these memories, and logan began to feel his eyes welling with tears as his mind became further crowded with guilt.

he found himself thinking of you. it was nights like this when he needed your love most. the only mildly positive thing about his ability to recall memories so vividly was that he could remember every little thing about you. he thought about how your skin had felt, how you had smelled, the perfect curve of your jaw, your unwavering kindness, and your beautiful eyes that he had loved to lose himself in. he could feel his chest beginning to ache so much it hurt, but he continued to chase his memory of you despite the discomfort. 

logan had always loved you. in his universe, you had been his sun, moon, and stars. not a moment went by that he didn’t think of you. he would follow you around like a lost puppy, doing anything he possibly could to make you feel loved and appreciated. despite his longstanding rough demeanor, you had found a way to soften him. everyone in the x-mansion loved you in your own right, but they loved your positive impact on logan more. you knew how to read his soul and you encouraged him to be kinder to himself, which, in turn, made him kinder to everyone else. you made him a better man. 

but as much as he loved you, and no matter how much he seemed to improve, he had always loved one thing more: hating himself.

when the x-men had been slaughtered, logan’s anger had surfaced in a way nobody had ever thought possible. he didn’t know what to do with all his misery, so he turned it into rage. the nation had watched his murderous rampage through their televisions, and the worldwide fear of mutants only intensified. if people didn’t feel safe before, they certainly didn’t now. 

you had tried to call him a million times when you saw the news, pleading with him to come to your apartment, begging him to come see you, assuring you everything would be okay if he came home. you knew that the brutality of the x-men’s murders had shaken him to his core and that this anger– this rage– was nothing more than a secondary emotion. you promised him that you would take care of him, that you could get through this pain together– he just had to come home to you. 

logan had seen your myriad of calls. he had read your hundreds of frantic– then loving– then desperate– then comforting– then begging texts. he had thought about calling you, but he knew he would never be able to bring himself to do it. he had sat in the woods, covered in blood, longing to crawl into your bed. he felt jagged, and he ached for your softness. but your opposing personalities were what pained him so deeply. he had committed a horrible crime, and no matter how much he wanted to believe that you meant it when you said you could make everything okay, he knew that you couldn’t. he would have to accept that he had ruined everything. 

in his heart, logan knew that you could ease some of his pain. he knew that seeing you, even for a moment, would bring him some relief. he knew you couldn’t make everything okay, but you would at least bring him some semblance of joy in the wake of his grief. but he also knew that he didn’t deserve it. logan had never thought himself deserving of you in the first place, but now he knew that he definitely wasn’t. not only did he not deserve you, but you didn’t deserve him. you didn’t deserve to be responsible for such a monster of a man.

he had messaged you: “i’m sorry, i can’t do this. i hope things work out for you. i’m sorry” before blocking your number. 

even now, all these years later, after saving the multiverse and finding himself again, he longed for you. he wished he could go back to your apartment and apologize a hundred times over. he would get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. he would smile like a schoolboy as he told you about all the great things he had done, how he had redeemed himself. he imagined you holding his face in your hands, gently stroking his stubble as you comforted him. he imagined you telling him that everything was okay, that you had waited for him all these years, that you still had the same books on your shelves, that your bedroom was still decorated the same and you still wore the same fragrance. 

logan was aching for your touch more than he ever had. he considered going to wade for comfort, which he quickly realized was a horrible idea. the only thing that could make him feel better was you. 

logan didn’t know how he felt about the idea that came to him then. 

he thought about wade’s version of you and how you had met when they had just returned from their multiverse-saving adventure. he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you again, as beautiful as ever. logan had been pining over you since then, but part of him felt guilty for it. he didn’t know if you had ever known earth-10005’s version of logan– the “best” logan, as some might say– but he guessed that you didn’t considering how happy you seemed. you had always been kind to logan, but he couldn’t help but feel that you were slightly disappointed that the version of the wolverine that wade brought back home wasn’t as amazing as the anchor being that had died. 

after your first few interactions, you seemed to start avoiding him. he hoped he hadn’t done something to upset you or drive you away, but wade had told him that you had always been a bit reserved, especially around new people. “just like i remember”, he found himself thinking. his version of you had been reserved before you two had started dating, and he hoped that maybe the same thing was happening now.

he knew that he wasn’t this world’s logan, and you weren’t his world’s you, but he wanted to wrap himself in your arms nonetheless. he considered going to your apartment just to see you, even if just for a second. he didn’t know if it would make him feel better or worse and he felt bad for even thinking about burdening this untainted version of you with his issues, but he couldn’t help himself. he groggily got up from the couch, throwing on sweatpants and a shirt before heading to see you.

—

unsurprisingly, you were surprised to see logan in your doorway so late at night. 

“hey, logan,” you said groggily, a bit flustered. “are you okay?”

he looked at your face in the dim light of your apartment, taking it all in.

“yeah, yeah. i’m good,” he stopped, feeling himself hesitate. he wondered if this was a total douchebag move, waking you up in the middle of the night for his own comfort. deciding he had nothing to lose but sleep, he asked, “can i come inside?”.

you stepped aside, still half-asleep. he came in, looking around as he took his shoes off. his heart warmed at the fact that everything was more-or-less decorated the same. you had the same books, the same houseplants, the same coffee table. he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you could also have the same feelings for him, considering how similar you were to the you that he had fucked up. 

“is something wrong?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“no, nothing's wrong,” he said. “i just needed to… i needed someone”.

flattered that logan had come to you for comfort, you said: “oh, well i hope i can be that someone for you”.

“you always were” he thinks to himself.

“but,” you start, looking a bit dejected. “i have to work tomorrow and i really need to sleep”.

“oh,” logan says, feeling bad that he’s stealing sleep from you. “i don’t need anything special, just being here helps”.

“oh, that makes me happy!” you reply. “how about we just rest together?”

his heart warmed at the thought. seeing the faint blush on his cheeks and feeling his excitement, you giggle and start walking to your bedroom. logan follows, feeling his heart begin to glow at the chance to be close to you. 

throwing back the covers, you settle into your bed. logan looked around your room, decorated just how he remembered. your bed was still snug in the corner of the room, the same desk by the window, the same faint smell of your favorite fragrance lingering in the air. logan felt like he was about to start crying at how happy it made him. he had been in your room a million times, and he could replay every memory you two had shared together here. even though logan had technically lived at the x-mansion, you had always referred to the apartment as as your guys’ home, as if you owned it together. logan had always loved that what was yours was also his. he noticed now that the only things missing from this room were his flannels you had “borrowed”, as well as the photos of the two of you posted on the walls. 

you yawned, patting the space beside you on the bed. 

“are you coming?” you asked.

logan looked at you, laying in your bed in your sleepwear, looking at him expectantly. he nodded, slipping into bed beside you.

you lifted your arm, inviting him to rest his head on your chest, and logan’s heart skipped a beat. you had always been kind to him, but you had never been affectionate like this. he wondered if you were being so inviting because you genuinely liked him or if you were just too tired to be closed off. either way, he nestled himself beside you, pulling up the covers.

you rested your hand on top of his head, slowly breathing in and out. he could hear your heartbeat, gentle and consistent. he closed his eyes, soaking up the purity of this moment.

“i know you need to sleep,” he said, breathing out. “but can i ask you a question?”

you giggled, chest rising. “sure, logan”

“did you ever know this world’s wolverine?”

you stopped for a moment, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. 

“no, i didn’t,” you replied. “it would have been cool, though. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” he said. he couldn’t tell if knowing that made him feel better or worse– at least you couldn’t compare him to the honorable anchor being that had passed.

“did you ever know your world’s me?” you giggled. logan could tell you meant it as a joke, you didn’t expect him to have ever known you. 

“funnily enough, i did” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. his heart rate increased and he hoped this wouldn’t ruin the moment– he didn’t want you thinking he was only there to pretend you were his version of you. he liked both versions of you, and he wasn’t in your bed to live in the world as he wanted it to be. he knew you were your own unique person, even if you were similar to the you he had loved.

“oh,” you said, surprised. monotone, you added: “that’s cool.” 

logan tensed again. he couldn’t tell if you had replied monotone because you were too tired to be expressive or if you were preparing yourself to kick him out.

“what was i like?” you asked, surprising him. your fingers began running through his hair and he leaned into the familiar sensation.

“you were awesome, just like you are now,” he breathed out. “you lived in this same apartment… at least when i knew you”

“why did you stop knowing me?”

logan thought for a second.

“i did some bad stuff… cut you off. i hadn’t seen you in, i don’t know, five years?”

“oh,” you said quietly. your breath hitched as you worked up the confidence to say: “i don’t know if this is weird, but… what were we?”

logan’s breath hitched. “lovers, i guess”

you hummed. “i bet we were nice”

logan let out a low, pained laugh. “we were really nice”

“y’know,” you started after a long silence, hesitating. “i think we could be nice now, too”

logan froze, surprised. “y'think?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i think that with time, we could be very, very nice… if you’re up to try”

“i would love to try,”  logan smiled. “i would try with you a million times”

you hummed, content with his answer. “i think i would like that”

logan relaxed, settling into your side. he breathed a sigh of relief, reveling in the warm feeling of your affection. he drifted to sleep, the memories that plagued him replaced with the new, softer memory of getting to love you once again.

[sky-is-the-limit]

Jealous!Phillip Graves x Shadow!F!Reader

The door to Graves' office slams shut behind you, his grip firm as he pushes you up against the wall, one hand pinning your wrists above your head.

The jeans that were hugging your legs a few moments ago are now barely covering your thighs, his impatience only feeding your excitement like a trained animal fighting between obedience and its true nature.

The heat of his body presses into yours, blue eyes blazing with jealousy and before you can react, his mouth is on you immediately, biting at your lower lip, forcing a gasp from you as he pulls away with a menacing smirk.

''You think it’s funny, darlin’, flirtin’ with that Scottish bastard?'' His voice is sharp, low, words dripping with venom dangerous enough to make your heart want to jump out its cage.

He doesn't wait for an answer, his knee forcing your legs apart, pinning you in place. ''Laughin’ with him like I ain’t watchin’? You know better.''

Your breath catches as he pulls your shirt up, exposing the soft skin beneath his greedy hands. Fingers trail down your sides, possessive and rough, a constant reminder of who you really belong to and his touch promises to make the flesh tender.

''Phillip-'' You gasp, trying to catch your breath but he’s not letting up, not giving you a chance to explain while his hand slips down between your legs, palming the heat building there and the smug grin that spreads across his face is promising, a warning.

''That’s right, darlin’. Say my name.'' He nips at your earlobe, breath warm to contrast the cold sweat covering your body now. ''You wanna act out? Let’s see if you’re still laughin’ when I’m done with you.''

The sound of his belt hitting the floor echoes through the room. You’re already soaking wet, your body betraying you as you feel the slickness pooling between your legs and his fingers dip down, teasing at your entrance while he presses his cock against your thigh.

There’s no waiting, no teasing as he thrusts into you, filling you in one rough stroke. The stretch is perfect, your body trembling as you try to stifle the moans rising in your throat. He notices, of course, and his eyes flash dangerously.

''Oh, no. Don’t hold back now," Phillip taunts with mockery. ''You didn’t care who heard you flirtin’, so don’t you dare hold back your pretty little sounds now.''

He fucks into you with a punishing rhythm, his hand coming down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the quietness of the room, along with your panting breaths and his cocky chuckle every time you get too loud for anyone walking by to hear.

''That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it?'' His hips snap forward, hitting deep inside you, making you cry out. ''You think anyone else could fuck you like this? Think anyone else would know exactly how to make you drip like this?''

You try to find something to say, some form of apology for pushing every single wrong button but all that escapes is a loud broken whimper as he slams into you again, your body already shaking uncontrollably on the edge.

''Yeah, that’s what I thought.'' The Commander sneers, burying himself deep inside, carving his name over and over. ''Remember this the next time you think about batin’ those pretty eyes at someone else.''

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ mentioning of: threesome, cheating, build up to smut/ spice.

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 1/?

Working for superheroes had always been my dream, and landing the personal assistant job for Soldier Boy felt like I had finally made it. At just 23, I was on the inside—right next to the legends. And more than anything, I admired Crimson Countess. I had looked up to her for years: strong, fearless, elegant, everything I wanted to be.

Soldier Boy was, well, intimidating. Ben, as I had been told to call him, was a larger-than-life presence, intense and unpredictable. But Crimson? She was the one who inspired me, and every day, I tried to live up to what I thought she represented.

Tonight was no different from most. It was late, the compound was quiet, and everyone else had left for the night. I was tying up loose ends, some paperwork mostly, when I remembered that Crimson had left a stack of files in her office. I figured I’d drop them off on her desk and head home. I had done it hundreds of times already, just part of the job.

As I walked down the dim hallway, I noticed her office door was cracked open. That was unusual; she was always so careful about her privacy. For a moment, I considered knocking, but it was late, and I assumed she had gone home. I thought I’d slip in, leave the files on her desk, and get out without disturbing anything.

But the second I stepped through the door, my world came crashing down.

Crimson Countess wasn’t alone. She was there, on the couch, barely clothed, on her knees on one side of Soldier boy while some other woman... well, sat... on his... face.

They were tangled together, moving in a way that left no room for interpretation. It was raw, intense—nothing like the polished, controlled way they presented themselves to the world. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene.

My heart hammered in my chest as the reality of what I was seeing sank in. This wasn’t something my in experienced soul thought was possible. This was something darker, something intimate that I was never meant to witness.

Before I could even think to turn and leave, Ben pulled the girl of him, his sharp gaze snapped to mine and smirked, that signature cocky grin spreading across his face, like he found it funny that I had walked in on them.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawled, his voice low and thick with amusement. “Want to join sweetheart?”

My stomach churned. Crimson Countess didn’t seem to notice me, too caught up in the moment with him. His fingers tangled in her hair.

I took a step back, every nerve in my body screaming at me to get out of there. My hands were trembling as I fumbled for the door, trying not to look back, trying not to hear the low chuckle that followed me as I stumbled into the hallway.

“I—uh, I’m sorry,” I stammered, though I wasn’t sure if anyone even heard me.

My feet moved on their own, rushing down the hall, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. I could still feel Ben’s eyes on me, the way he hadn’t even been fazed by my intrusion. He’d looked at me like I was just part of the scenery or something to laugh about later.

The moment I burst outside, the cold night air hit me, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside of me. My hands shook uncontrollably as I pulled out my keys, trying to focus long enough to unlock the car door. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, I managed to get inside and slam the door behind me.

What had I just seen?

Crimson Countess—Crimson Countess—the woman I looked up to, the one I had admired for so long, wasn’t who I thought she was. And Ben, Soldier Boy, had just acted like it was no big deal, like he didn’t care at all that I just walked in on that.

My mind raced as I drove, barely registering the streets flashing by. The image of them together, so vulgar, was burned into my brain, refusing to leave me alone. They weren’t the heroes I had built up in my head. They were… something else, something I didn’t want to understand.

When I finally got home, I fumbled with the keys to my apartment, my hands still trembling. The door swung open, and I was greeted by the warm light of our living room. My fiancée Kevin was already there, standing by the kitchen counter, looking at me with concern.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, and the second he saw my face, I could tell he knew something was wrong. “You’re home late. What happened?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. How could I explain this? How could I even begin to tell him what I had just seen? I was sure my fiancee, respectable man he was wouldn't even understand this. My head was spinning, and all I could feel was the rush of emotions crashing over me—shock, disgust, confusion.

“I—I don’t even know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I set my bag down, my legs weak. I collapsed onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “It’s… I saw something at work. Something I wasn’t supposed to see.”

He came over and sat beside me, his hand resting gently on my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, the memory still too raw, too sharp. I couldn’t even process it myself, let alone explain it to him. How was I supposed to tell him that the people I worked for, the heroes we had both admired, weren’t who we thought they were? That Crimson Countess, the woman I’d idolized for years, had just shattered every illusion I’d ever had about her?

“I just… need a minute,” I said softly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

He didn’t press. He just sat there with me, his presence steady and comforting in the middle of the chaos in my mind.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the images away, but they wouldn’t leave. No matter how much I wanted to forget, I couldn’t. Crimson Countess and Soldier Boy weren’t just flawed—they were something far darker. And now, I wasn’t sure if I could ever look at them the same way again.

--

The next day, I sat at my desk in the office, trying to act as normal as possible, but the memory of what I had seen last night haunted me. My fingers tapped anxiously on the keyboard, eyes glued to the paper, but my mind was miles away. Every time I tried to focus, my thoughts drifted back to Crimson and Ben… and that other side of them I had never imagined.

The Tower bustled around me—colleagues moving through the halls, casual conversation floating in the air. Everything felt normal, but I felt like I was on edge, hyper-aware of every sound, every movement. I kept telling myself that if I just acted like nothing happened, everything would be fine.

But then I heard her familiar voice and my heart dropped.

Crimson Countess.

I didn’t dare look up as she strolled over, her signature confidence radiating from every step. I tried to stay calm, but my fingers froze over the keyboard of the typewriter when I saw her lean on my desk out of the corner of my eye. She wasn’t in her full supe outfit—just casual, but even then, she exuded that effortless power and control that had always made me idolize her.

“Morning, Y/N,” she said lightly, but there was something teasing in her tone.

“Morning,” I managed to reply, keeping my gaze glued to my paper.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just watched the room as a few of our colleagues passed by, her lips curling into a faint smile. I could feel the tension building, and my stomach twisted in knots. I knew something was coming. I just didn’t know what.

Finally, when the coast was clear, she turned her attention fully on me, her voice low and almost conspiratorial.

"Ben told me you saw us last night."

My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel my cheeks flush bright red. It was like my whole body betrayed me, and I cursed myself for it. The heat crept up my neck and into my face as the memory of what I’d walked in on slammed back into my head.

“I—uh—” I stammered, struggling to find words. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t supposed to see that. I didn’t mean to—”

Crimson waved off my apology with a casual flick of her hand, like it was nothing. Her expression was calm, her eyes almost amused, as if she found the whole thing mildly entertaining.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” she said, leaning in a little closer. “If you want to join next time, you’re welcome to.”

The offer hit me like a freight train. My mouth went dry, and I had no idea how to respond. I could barely believe what she was saying—it was so nonchalant, so easy for her, like inviting someone to dinner instead of, well… that.

My mind went blank, but the first thing I managed to blurt out was, “I’m engaged.”

Crimson’s eyes flickered with amusement before she suddenly threw her head back and laughed, the sound loud and echoing throughout the office. A few heads turned, but no one seemed to think much of it—this was Crimson Countess after all. People expected her to be eccentric.

“Engaged, huh?” she said with a smirk once her laughter subsided. “He’s welcome too.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. I stared at her, completely lost for words. Did she actually mean that? The casual way she said it, as if it was no big deal, made it even harder to wrap my head around.

“I—uh, I—” I stammered, trying to find a way out of this conversation without combusting on the spot.

Crimson just smiled, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly. “No pressure, Y/N. Just let Ben or me know if you’re in or out. It’s all about options.”

Options? I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that. My entire world had flipped upside down in the span of a few seconds, and here she was acting like this was just another casual conversation.

“I… I’ll think about it,” I said quickly, though in my mind I was screaming no, no, no, wanting to escape this situation as fast as possible.

“Good girl,” she said, winking at me before pushing off my desk and walking away, leaving me sitting there in stunned silence.

As soon as she was gone, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. My heart was still racing, my palms clammy against the keyboard. I tried to make sense of what had just happened, but nothing about it made sense. What kind of world had I walked into, where things like this were normal?

And worse, how was I supposed to look her in the eye now? Or Ben? I swallowed hard, staring blankly at the text I just typed. How did I get into this situation?

--

The next day, I was running late for lunch. Most people had already returned to their desks, leaving the cafeteria nearly empty, just a handful of others grabbing a bite before heading back to work. My stomach twisted with anxiety—I still hadn’t fully processed my encounter with Crimson Countess. I barely managed to choke down a few bites of food, my nerves making me feel sick.

I was sitting at the far end of the room, hoping to avoid any more awkward encounters. But just as I thought I was in the clear, the door swung open, and in walked Ben, flanked by the TNT twins. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me almost immediately. And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he smirked.

My pulse quickened as he started walking over, his strides slow and deliberate, like he enjoyed the effect he was having on me. I quickly looked back down at my half-eaten sandwich, pretending to be too engrossed in my food to notice him. But it was too late.

Ben—Soldier Boy—pulled out the chair beside me and sat down, the weight of his presence making the air feel heavy. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, and I silently prayed he wouldn’t bring up last night. I wasn’t ready for another awkward, twisted conversation.

"So," he began casually, his voice low, "have you spoken to Countess?"

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. She, uh… talked to me earlier.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, just stared at me, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He could sense my nerves, I knew it. My hands felt clammy, and I tried to focus on anything other than how close he was, but his presence was suffocating.

"She tell you how we like to have there sometime?" Ben asked, his tone smooth, like he was discussing the weather.

I nodded again, my throat dry. “Yeah, she… she mentioned it.” I could barely get the words out. Every part of me wanted to shrink away, to disappear, but Ben leaned in closer, closing the already small gap between us.

"I gotta say," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "I wish you’d stayed last night." His lips curled into a smirk as he watched my reaction. I could feel my face turning red, my heart racing uncontrollably.

“I’m engaged,” I blurted out, my voice louder than I intended, desperate to set a boundary. Please, let that be enough.

But it wasn’t. Any other man might’ve taken the hint, backed off, but Ben wasn’t just any other man. He chuckled, a dark, deep sound that sent shivers down my spine.

“Engaged, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "That’s cute, congrats, I'm sure he is eh, taking care of you."

"Oh he is." I answered way too fast. His hand moved over my arm, "So you have... some experience, thats good." I couldn't look at him thinking. Well not much, not at all if experience means what he did the other night... but I had sex before yes.

He must have read my mind "You gotta understand something, sweetheart." He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against my skin. “This is freeing. Learning to love more than just one person. Sharing is caring, right? Besides I might teach you a thing or two your man likes.”

I stared at him in shock, my mind racing, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It wasn’t just about what I had seen or heard. This was something bigger, deeper—he truly believed it, believed in some twisted version of love where boundaries didn’t exist.

My mistake was looking up at him then—really looking at him. I was too close, closer than I had ever been. For a moment, all I saw was the strong, perfect lines of his face, the chiseled jaw, the intensity in those green eyes that made it hard to think straight.

He was beautiful, magnetic, and dangerous all at once. I hated how my body reacted, how my breath caught in my throat as I felt the pull of his presence. "I-I don't think I would... like it." I stammered.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and I swore my heart stopped. My whole body tensed as I realized just how close we were, the air between us heavy with something I didn’t understand.

“You could learn to enjoy it,” he whispered, his voice seductive, filled with a kind of promise that sent a shiver down my spine.

I quickly looked away, my mind screaming at me to get out of this situation, but my body betrayed me, frozen in place, caught between fear, confusion, and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I… I can’t,” I stammered, my voice barely audible.

He smiled, a slow, predatory smile, as if he had all the time in the world. “Think about it, Y/N. Seems like you’ve got a lot to learn, want to keep your soon to be husband happy between the sheets, don't you?” His hand brushed against mine on the table, and the contact sent an electric jolt through me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there. Now.

“I should go,” I muttered, pushing my chair back so fast it nearly toppled over. I stood up, my legs shaky, and grabbed my bag. Ben just leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same smug, knowing smile, like he’d already won some kind of game I didn’t even know I was playing.

“Take your time,” he said lazily, his eyes glinting. “We’re not going anywhere.”

I didn’t dare look back as I rushed out of the cafeteria, my mind a mess of confusion, fear, and frustration. How had I ended up here? What kind of world had I gotten myself into, where boundaries didn’t exist, where people like Ben and Crimson Countess played by their own rules?

And most importantly—what the hell was I going to do next?

--

I couldn’t tell Kevin about what happened. He’d flip. The thought of trying to explain everything to him, the look of betrayal and anger that would flash across his face… I just couldn’t handle that right now. It felt like everything in my life was spiraling out of control, and I didn’t have the strength to add another confrontation to the pile.

That day, I rushed home far earlier than usual. I needed stability, something to ground me, and Kevin had always been that for me. I kept telling myself that once I got home, once I saw him, everything would start to feel normal again. He didn’t know about the world I worked in, the twisted games that came with being around supes. With Kevin, things were simple. Normal.

When I reached our apartment door, I noticed something was off before I even stepped inside. The faint glow of candlelight flickered under the door, and I could smell something sweet—champagne? My heart lifted slightly, thinking maybe he had planned a surprise. Maybe Kevin had sensed how off I’d been lately and wanted to make it up to me. The thought of spending a quiet evening together, just the two of us, made my chest ache with hope. This was what I needed.

But the second I opened the door, that hope shattered.

There he was. Kevin, sitting on the couch, cozy and comfortable—but he wasn’t alone. Another woman was with him. Her long legs were draped across his lap, her hand on his chest, and they were kissing. Not just a casual kiss, but something deeper, something intimate. The kind of kiss that said I was no longer part of the equation.

The candlelight, the champagne, the soft music playing in the background… it wasn’t for me. It had never been for me.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my breath caught in my throat, unable to process what I was seeing. My entire body went numb, like my brain was trying to protect me from the full force of what was happening.

My heart broke, a sharp pain slicing through my chest as I watched them—Kevin, the man I was supposed to marry, the man who had promised to love me, sitting there with someone else like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t even notice me at first, too caught up in the moment with her. I felt like I was drowning, my mind swirling with disbelief and devastation. I wanted to scream, to yell, to make sense of it, but all I could do was stand there, staring at the wreckage of everything I thought I knew.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back from her, and that’s when he saw me. His eyes widened in shock, and for a second, we just stood there, the silence between us deafening.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice laced with guilt, panic flashing across his face as he shoved the woman off his lap. She scrambled awkwardly, clearly not expecting to be caught.

“I—uh—it’s not what it looks like,” he stammered, but the words felt hollow, meaningless. It was exactly what it looked like.

My voice cracked as I finally managed to speak. “How could you…?”

He stood up, his hands out in front of him like he was trying to calm me down, like I was overreacting. “Just listen—”

But I didn’t want to listen. Not to him. Not now. Everything inside me was breaking, crumbling, and the anger, the betrayal, it hit me all at once, crashing into me like a tidal wave.

“How could you?!” I shouted, my voice trembling with hurt. “You’re… you’re... How Kevin! We were supposed to—” I choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence. We were supposed to get married. To be together.

His eyes softened for a moment, and I could see the guilt settling in. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t—"

“Don’t,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean for this to happen. You did.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my entire body shaking. “You planned this. You set this up.”

His silence said it all. The candles, the champagne, the soft music—it was all for her. Not for me. Never for me.

The woman stood there awkwardly, looking between the two of us, clearly uncomfortable but not nearly as sorry as she should have been. I felt sick to my stomach.

I turned and bolted out the door, not caring where I was going, not caring about anything other than the fact that my life, my world, had just been ripped apart in the span of a few short hours.

--

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[pugh-bug]

Marooned

Art Donaldson x ex wife reader

Part: 1 of 2

Word count: 2,488

This was supposed to just be a one shot but I got carried away! If you want to be added to my permanent taglist for all Art Donaldson x reader works please let me know 🫶🏻

——————————————————————

A seagull flew over your head, narrowly missing your ear with its wing as it passed. What were you doing here out at sea alone? It was reckless and you hadn’t done reckless for quite some time. You thought a boat ride alone might clear your head after the argument. He meant well, your boyfriend, but he could be a naively hurtful prick when the mood was ripe for it.

The engine moaned and groaned as you got further out to sea, the waves rising and falling gracelessly. Night had fallen and you had no signal and no way of knowing the way back to shore. It hadn’t seemed so far away moments ago but now every edge of the world seemed to be filled in with ocean. You tried to steady your heart rate as a large wave approached your modest boat and the engine whirred and creaked with fear. Just as you braced yourself for the wave a loud horn announced itself nearby. When you opened your eyes you were looking at his.

——————————————————————

‘Art?’ Your voice was hoarse as you looked up at the man pulling you up. The wooden, glossy floorboards told you you were no longer on your own boat. The man tried to explain to you what had happened and where you were but all you could focus on was the icy water dripping down your skin.

‘Let’s get you inside Y/N.’

You followed him into a lavishly decorated, wood panelled room. If it weren’t for the rocking beneath you you’d swear you were on land in some hotel. The lamps were Tiffany and the tables were mahogany, as expected your ex husband had done disgustingly well for himself. Even the scent in the air was rich.

Art fetched you a wool blanket and a towel before guiding you to sit on the inviting leather armchair opposite him. You shivered as he poured you both what appeared to be whisky, no doubt some 100 year old stuff no one had access to but him.

‘Do you need anything else?’ He asked as he sat down, his voice steady. You could hardly believe your eyes, 10 years it had been since Art Donaldson had been in your presence. 10 years since the divorce. Life had been kind to him, he looked older yes but he still had a youthfulness to his face. He was still handsome, still no doubt the tennis player most young female fans had posters of in their bedrooms.

‘I’m okay,’ you breathe, gathering yourself. ‘Thanks for pulling me out.’ In truth your memory of the night was already hazy and cloudy, almost in black and white. You remembered the gurgling of your engine dying and the size of the wave coming for you but nothing more. A familiar voice?

‘I couldn’t believe it was you when I saw your face. What the fuck were you doing in that out here on your own?’

Art was equally appalled as he was amused. Perhaps he was impressed with your attempt at independence and bravery, something he hadn’t got to see much of throughout your marriage.

‘To clear my head.’ It came out as more of a question. You needed alcohol to settle your nerves, a few more drinks would satisfy.

——————————————————————

‘Are you still writing?’

‘About tennis?’

Art pulled a face to say about anything, as if he didn’t believe you had the guts to write at all anymore. He wasn’t wrong.

‘No, didn’t have much opportunity after the divorce.’

Art raised an eyebrow at your comment, and the casual way you sipped your whisky afterwards. He watched you fade from view, metaphorically of course as you were in fact only inches away from him, as you remembered something. A memory from long ago that you’d tried to forget but couldn’t. It lived in the line between your eyebrows, the downturned smile you gave when you were concealing a lingering sadness and the constant sipping of your drink.

‘That day,’ you suddenly weren’t looking at Art across from you, you were looking at the memory of him ten years younger. ‘I was waiting for a call before you came home from Aidan - my agent - about the new book,’ Art nodded, remembering the man in the Prada suit who insisted on interrupting his time alone with you with phone calls about blurbs and font sizes. ‘And he picked up, must have rang him twelve times before he did, but when he did he told me he didn’t want me as a client - that my writing was average and he wanted better representation.’

‘Isn’t that supposed to be your line?’

You shrugged, still looking through your ex husband not at him, and sipped once again. ‘He got angry when I asked him why, started ripping apart my last articles and my last book. I think the word that came up,’ you pursed your lips at the memory. ‘The most was disappointing.’ As the boat bobbed, you pictured your old desk in yours and Art’s home where you’d received that call and you pictured Art arriving quite suddenly finding you staring at it.

After a long pause Art sighed a simple: ‘I never knew.’ because he didn’t. Of course he didn’t, why should he? That day had been painful enough without your failures as a writer coming into play. ‘Well, it’s not what stands out the most from that day anyway.’ You smiled, your down turned smile, at Art’s pensive face.

‘No, I think the toaster you smashed still wins.’ Art chuckled and you let yourself laugh at the absurdity. How were you on his boat? You didn’t believe in fate, it was all too simple an idea for you to take seriously, but something about it being almost ten years exactly since that day was alarming. Perhaps satisfying too, if you’d admit it to yourself.

Art stood up to fetch himself his jumper. ‘For what it’s worth, I always liked your writing.’ This you had to hear.

‘Really?’ It had come out even drier than you’d intended. ‘Because I seem to remember you selling any copies I gave you.’ That was only partially true. Twelve years ago Art had been spotted outside a hotel the two of you had been staying at by a desperately excited kid. Art had had nothing on him to give the poor fan but a copy of your latest book he’d planned to read in bed that night. Being the sweetheart he pretends not to be Art gave it away - only for the kid to pass him his last note and hightail it down the street smiling. Maybe sold wasn’t the right word afterall.

Art sat back down. ‘Adrian was a miserable agent and clearly stupid to have fired you.’ The whisky had started to have an affect because his words warmed your heart more than they had the right to.

‘You just never liked him because he didn’t find you funny.’ A playful smile edged itself onto your face, mirroring Art’s. He placed his glass down on the mahogany table, his eyes gleaming and not leaving your own, before scoffing. ‘He was alone in thinking that.’ Arrogant bastard.

‘I think, if you refreshed your memory you’d remember that I was the funny one.’ You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to swill your glass like a Bond villain to add some flourish to your comment. The atmosphere on the boat had shifted completely. You were starting to feel ten years younger and if it weren’t for logic you’d swear Art was looking ten years younger too.

‘You looked pretty funny flailing around in the ocean.’ Art quipped, enjoying himself a bit too much. You had to disagree. ‘You’d have felt bad if I’d have drowned!’ A giggle threatened to escape your chest.

He considered that for a moment, how bad he would feel if his ex wife was nothing more than a memory. Would he be allowed at the funeral? He didn’t know how badly the divorce had affected your scathing parents. The only thing your Mother had said to him on the day of the wedding was ‘Take care of her’ and that had felt more akin to a threat than advice. ‘Not sure your parents would have forgiven me.’

You scoffed, taking another rather large sip of whisky. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, my Mother thought a lot of you. She’d probably bail you out of prison.’

‘I didn’t mean her.’

The insecurity and guilt was evident on your ex husbands face, even through the slight haziness of your whisky lenses. You knew what he was remembering and it wasn’t just the offhand snide comments your Father would make at family meals or New Year’s parties, no. He was remembering that day.

‘Well…it doesn’t really matter now does it.’

Art adjusted in his seat, not ignoring your frown. He wanted to ask you something while he had you to himself for the first time in a decade. He might regret it. He might wish not to hear the answer, if you’d even be gracious enough to allow him one, but he had to know.

‘Can I ask you something?’

You shot him a just go ahead look.

‘I was always confused about - I mean about why you married me.’

‘Hmm.’

It took you a moment to figure out the write answer, an answer that was a mix of honesty and restraint. You’d already had a shitty, stressful day but something about him even daring to ask that after such a long time of no contact made you curious. Perhaps you needed closure for the ending and he needed closure for the beginning. You had to allow him that, he had saved your life after all.

‘We were twenty two I mean, doesnt everything seem like a good idea at that age?’ But giving closure was harder than you thought as that was a bullshit answer and you both knew it. You didn’t think you’d ever see Art again, let alone be trapped on a boat with him in the middle of the ocean discussing your marriage. All of your feelings, strong as they were, had been buried with the divorce papers and the box of his stuff he’d never come back for.

You had another sip, a nervous one, feeling Art’s eyes on you growing increasingly frustrated. He wasn’t going to let you change the subject that much was clear. If you were staying the night on his boat you were going to have to open up about this.

‘Okay,’ you sighed. ‘When I first met you you were the only boy who even tried to understand me, in any capacity. You didn’t want me to be your cheerleader and you didn’t treat me like a sexual exploit. I actually,’ this was harder than you thought. ‘Laughed harder around you than any of my friends. You made me feel great pretty much all the time and you listened to me. I didn’t have to fake anything with you. When you asked me to marry you I didn’t have any doubts.’ You looked at his eyes pointedly. ‘Did you?’

Art was stunned but he knew he believed you. He’d never forget your face when he proposed, not if he lived a thousand lifetimes. ‘No.’ Without question the answer was no.

‘Then-‘

‘Then why’d I do it?’

You’d never asked so he’d never told. He wasn’t sure he had a proper answer. No answer would rid him of the decade long guilt that festered its way through his veins like a cancer.

‘It was only once, I know that. Just tell me why.’ You kept your voice calm but the hurt revealed itself anyway. Even after all the promises, all the if I ever see him agains here you were showing your decade long pain to the man responsible for it.

‘I think the ‘forever’ part of marriage had started to feel like pressure. More pressure I couldn’t fucking handle.’

He’d lost the U.S Open the week he went to her flat behind your back. While you were watching the results on tv in the family room, shedding tears for your beloved husband and all the work he’d put in, he was with her.

‘It just sort of happened when-‘

You raised your hand, almost like a lawyer. You suddenly didn’t want to know, didn’t want to picture that woman - that girl really - writhing while she road your husband into the bed.

‘I’m good.’

Art was relieved at your gesture. He didn’t want to relive that life changing mistake. The mistake that lost him you.

After a long and cold silence, you let Art off the hook with a quip about her. About if they were still together - which of course they weren’t and you knew anyway. As much as you’d tried to avoid Art like any other ex, Art was no ordinary ex. His face was plastered on magazines, your television and your phone. You’d know if he sneezed, what time and whom he was with.

‘No,’ Art smiled at you knowingly. ‘We didn’t really gel as it happens.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘She wasn’t-‘

‘Tennis?’ You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing the only real threat your marriage had been sport not another woman.

‘You.’

He let you sit with that for a moment, looking pensive as he drank more. You took a large swig of your whisky yourself, as a way to fill time more than anything else. Art’s eyes were fixated on your face and on your features, comparing and contrasting them with your younger self you imagined.

‘You haven’t changed much.’

‘Is that a compliment or an insult?’

In your marriage it had gotten increasingly difficult to decipher the two. When he referred to you as ‘Mrs Donaldson’ it was once clear that he found you particularly alluring that day but the honorific had become sour. Patronising on occasion towards the end.

‘Compliment.’

…and yet you missed being Mrs Donaldson.

‘Is this where I tell you whether I’m single or not?’ You sat back in your chair, analysing his reaction. Wanting information. Wanting him to give a shit who was with you, touching you - holding you at night. Art’s eyes flickered at the subject you’d brought into question, feeling your daring nature come into play.

‘Are you?’

‘No.’

His jaw clenched as you smiled sweetly, as if you’d just informed him you were now a nun and only had eyes for the Lord. ‘Why wasn’t he with you on that boat?’ Art questioned, leaning forward slightly.

‘Argument.’

‘Who won?’

‘We never finished it.’

That seemed to amuse Art even more.

‘We always finished ours didn’t we?’

You smiled at his wistfulness and the strange pride he seemed to take in that fact. Suddenly you felt very far from your boyfriend and new life indeed.

‘I won almost all of them.’

———————————————————————

Taglist: @amorisxx

Masterlist

[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat pt.2

Dc masterlist all other parts found here

Batfam x reader Jason Todd x reader

Summary: the batfam's approach to Y/n self harming, Bruce is a meanie, and neglectful meanie

warnings: Angst, self harm (active), self hate, depression, anxiety, eating disorder,mentions of alcohol and drugs but not use of either, sexual assault mention, non-con mention, joker has bad touched y/n, puke, purging,

I do not own dc, kinda short sorry. Full bruce hate, I never forgave him for not killing the joker, among other things

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all sat around her while Alfred poured tea. Her leg was bouncing and her fingers were tapping on her knees.

"Somebody gonna fill me in," Bruce asked into the silence.

"I second that," Jason said.

"Well, we are here to support-" Tim started to say before Damian cut in.

"Y/n was cutting herself and you have to fix it," he said from his spot next to her. He latched himself onto her arm and rolled her sleeve up to show off the bandage.

"Y/n," Bruce said softly, running a hand down his face in exhaustion. He's too tired to put up with you.

"Why," Jason asked moving to sit next to her and grab her other hand. Tim was sitting on the back of the couch behind her, Dick was perched on the arm next to Damian and Bruce was across from her in an arm chair.

"I'm in a family of superheros that spends more time looking after strangers than they do their own people."

"Y/n," Dick said on a sigh.

"It's our job," Bruce said. Like that excused all the neglect.

"If you're just gonna undermine everything I say and bring up 'the mission' as an excuse for everything there's no point in having this conversation cuz it's just gonna make things worse," she seethed glaring at Bruce.

"No more work talk, just tell us about you," Dick said.

"Damian go help Alfred with dinner."

"But-"

"Go." He rolled his eyes but stomped out of the room.

"I've been cutting since Jason died-"

"Shit," Tim interrupted quietly.

"Burning too when I feel like it. Definitely have an eating disorder, depression goes without saying. All forms of anxiety, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, hmmm," she paused in mock thought looking to the ceiling for answers.

"What do you mean burning," Jason asked before she could continue.

"I use a lighter to heat up a blade, or something else metal and hold it to my skin. Just 1st and second degree, enough to blister. I prefer burning because the pain lasts longer," she explained casually. Stop talking you idiot!

"Y/n," Dick muttered, so sadly the guilt crept up her throat.

"How else do you hurt yourself," Bruce asked sliding her tea closer to her, like that helped.

"I think that's it, don't know I've done shit for so long I don't even think anymore. I blink and there's a few new cuts I don't remember making." Stop talking!

"Oh my god," Tim whispered.

"You black out? Do you drink," Jason accused, unwilling to ask about drugs.

"Nope, never touch the stuff." Where her hands shaking or was she imagining that? Didn't matter Jason's warm and rough hand enveloped both of hers to stop them. Are your eyes meant to get fuzzy when your crush touches you?

"What can we do to help, what do you need from us," Bruce asked eyeing their hands with a touch of unease?

"Oh, now you care. What fifteen, twenty kids later you care? I don't need or want anything from you, actually, no, what I want is my damn job back." Is your heart supposed to be at 150 BPM?

"Sweets, I can feel your heart through your finger tips."

"I'm fine, my heart rate's always a bit fast." But she was starting to sweat.

"Are you having any other systems, how often do you have anxiety attacks," Dicks asked sitting beside her to hold two fingers to her pulse and count.

"Once a week, once every two weeks, I don't know, why?"

"Do you feel like you're going into one?"

She took a deep breath and did a mental self-assessment. Fast heart, sweat, shaky hands, but clear thoughts.

"I don't-I don't...it doesn't feel like it? Maybe just heightened anxiety, I don't know, I feel more anger than anxiety," she told him smacking his hand away when he tried to check for a fever.

"Does your heart rate usually get to 160 when you're mad," Dick asked.

"Sounds right, I have anger issues." Jason snorted out a laugh.

"Welcome to the club kid." His hand moved to tug on her hair then dropped to her neck to rub circles with his thumb.

"When you call me kid it makes me feel small and useless," she told him with soft smile.

"Shit, sorry."

"I cal you kid, like ninety percent of the time," Dick panicked.

"Chill big bird, it's not gonna drive me to a cliff."

"You're not going back to work."

"Wayta' read the room, Bruce," Tim chastised dramatically draping himself over the back of the couch.

"Careful, Tim your fruit is showing," Y/n said, laughing at her own joke. ( Tim is bi in this)

"His what," Jason whisper yelled whipping his head around to check his brother fly. Dick who was 'hip' to the kids slang these days just laughed and high fived her.

"What's fruit then?"

"When someone is gay you call them fruity," she explained gesturing to Tim's totally not straight pose.

"Oh, got it. Wait a damn minute, that's what you meant when you called me a mango nerd the other day."

"Dude you said and I quote 'you can't wear that spring outfit with that fall purse you heathen' with a hand on your hip."

"It was for a benefit ball, I was trying to help you, you fashionably challenged fool."

"Get a room," Tim complained throwing a hand over his eyes like even watching them was painful.

"Was it that peach dress with the blue clutch," Dick asked, of course, he hadn't attended but he saw the papers and news.

"Sorry, I thought I was the girl in this family, let me just turn my closet over to you-"

"Can we get back to your issues," Bruce interrupted, freaking buzzkill.

"Sorry, was my bonding time with brothers I haven't seen together in over a month cutting into your plans. Are you trying to wrap this up so you can put on your Halloween costume and go beat up poor people. Sorry my depression is such an inconvenience for you. Don't worry, me slicing into my own flesh can take a backseat to your useless and selfish vendetta.-"

"That's enough, I do care-"

"Really! Did you care when your second robin got murdered and you couldn't be bothered to stop his killer, did you care when you forced me into that suit and took me out with basically no training? Did you care when the man you refused to kill took me hostage, when the devil you clearly love sank his claws into my innocent skin? Did you even ask when I came back to the cave with blood running down my legs-" Her jaw might have popped from the grinding of her teeth if Dick and Jason hadn't cut her off.

"What the actually fuck, Bruce!" Jason.

"What the hell!" Dick.

"I didn't know," Bruce said hanging his head and shoving his fingers into his hair.

"You didn't fucking ask. Why the hell else would I have come back looking the way I did, did you even notice I was gone?"

"I-"

"I don't care," she interrupted with an eye roll, shaking the boys off her to try and leave the room. Tim was faster and blocked her path but she knew he would cave, they would all give her alone time after the bombshell she'd just dropped. She tried not to smirk when Bruce moved to follow her and both Dick and Jason stood in his way.

"So not only did you fail to stop a kid from being murdered, you failed to tell me he was even dead until after his funeral, and you failed to protect her."

"I hate you," Jason said and they all knew he meant it. The guilt was back, clawing at her insides and making bile rise to her throat. They'd been mending their relationship and she just turned Jason on Bruce without thinking.

"I'm sorry," he tried.

"We don't care," Tim spoke for all of them stepping aside to let her through. She hurried to leave before they changed their mind but stopped short with a soft 'shit' when she nearly ran into Damian.

"You heard it all didn't you?"

"Father's an idiot."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Tt, I'm sorry you had to go through that, my beloved." (he calls her that cuz she's his favorite and acts almost as a mother figure)

"You mind telling Alfred not to set my place?"

"Of course."

Thank God, he didn't insist on following her. With a quick hug and hair ruffle she sent him off and nearly sprinted to her room, her trained feet not making a sound on the polished wood. They hadn't taken any of her blades yet so she had her pick for one last hurrah before they found her. With what could only be described as a quiet evil laugh she selected a simple pocket knife and skipped to her en suit locking the door behind her. her shorts were off in a flash and she had four quick and clean cuts in no time, the sting was ok but not enough to ease the guilt from blabbing her big mouth so she did a few more. The feeling didn't ease and her chest only got tighter in panic of being found so she cleaned and bandaged them then sank to her knees in front of the toilet. Pressing on her stomach right where her ribs met she was able to bring up her food without shoving her fingers down her throat. When nothing but foam came up and her eyes stung from tears she rose to clean up.

"Y/n, you have two second before I kick in the door," Jason warned. Well shit.

9-24-24

[liverpool-enjoyer]

MAX HEY what got u into soccer (as u call it) / ur football origin story ?!?!?

HI BESTIE I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING!!!

warning in advance i talk. so much. like half this info isnt even necessary to answer the question i jus like to run my big mouth.

so it all started when i was a wee lil lad. actually if you wanna be technical it starts before then!! basically i love soccer cause my dads loved it his whole life. n my dad loves soccer cause his dad loved soccer n i'll probly pass it on to my poor kiddos in the future lmao.

but yeah when i say dad loves soccer i MEAN it. he played when he was in school n continued to play after for the local club, a club made entirely of irish immigrants in new york. he is not irish. but he was rlly good so they were like aight. i have a ton a their trophies n yearbooks n stuff!! my dad was a goalie n helped them win a CHAMPIONSHIP (that he postponed his wedding for)!!! he got a buncha mvp votes n my opa has a plaque thanking him for being their biggest supporter :)) fun fact dads team played against usmnt goalie tim howard when he was younger. dont remember who won tho.

i know less abt opas exploits unfortunately, but by God did he love the sport. man could watch half a dozen games a day. oh wait nvm i jus remembered how could i forget he took my dad to PELES FAREWELL GAME IN '77??? oh yeah my dad n opa used to see the new york cosmos EVERY HOME GAME. so theyve literally seen pele himself more times than my dad can count. funny lil story they were season ticket holders but at the farewell game their seats were given to mohammed ali. as i type this i realize that sounds so made up but im not shitting you. look it up he was there.

so yeah naturally being raised by this man means being raised around soccer. as a baby i had a little plush soccer ball n i actually took my first steps with it. its still lying around somewhere i think. i did play when i was a kid (goalie, ofc) but the fact that i have the atheticism of an asthmatic squirrel cut my playing career short. honestly, i regret not pulling through n playing more. i actually didnt get into european soccer till i was like eleven. up until then i was a DIE HARD mls/new york red bulls enjoyer. i went to my first red bulls game when i was literally an infant n went to damn near every home game for over a decade. which means i jus got to watch the man, the myth, the legend mr thierry henry more times than i can COUNT. i didnt realize till years later how fortunate i actually was!!

now the REAL awakening. so its 2014, either march or april i cant remember. i come downstairs from an absurdly long minecraft playing binge n like usual theres a game on the tv. i ask whos playing n my dads like its el clasico. n im like ??? he explains that barcelona n real madrid are two teams in spain with an intense rivalry n every time they play they call it el clasico. n that barcelona has a player named lionel messi, who many consider the best in the world, n that real madrid has cristiano ronaldo, who many also consider the best in the world. i watched the rest of the game with him, n i honestly dont know what exactly made me a die hard messi fan. my dads a serie a/juventus enjoyer so he didnt care enough to steer me one way or the other. but from that day forward i was the BIGGEST messi n barcelona fan. i remember the 2014 wc VIVIDLY, it made me the woman i am today n NOT in a good way. i also remember growing up watching msn n that was literal crack. the 2015 ucl final especially was an,,, interesting time in my house lmao.

n thats why i love soccer!!!

[singingachorus]

forest makes my heart hurt. like bad.

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[rouge-the-bat]

idk how ppl can handle kids. i sit in the room with 2 of them for just a little while and i get overloaded with anxiety from too much sound and constant interruptions from whatever im trying to focus on

[zapsoda]

btw i tried whole milk for the first time recently and it wasnt very good i dont like plain milk

[viosjaan]

i don't think you want anything to do with me anymore so i can just vent the texts i want to send to you here

[pears-trinkets]

.

[aajjks]

tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna