#anyway i was sitting in my car staring at this shitty building

[bewilderedbunny]

.

[ghostxrose]

The Greatest | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Part One | Part Two

Tags/Warnings ~ angst, hurt no comfort, talks of death, grieving, let me know if I should tag anything else..

Note ~ Alrighty Lovelies, here is part two with Bakugo's and Hatsume's reactions. I might do another part with Uraraka's and other's reactions, but at this time I don't have a feel for writing the requested characters yet except for maybe Midoriya.. I'll try my best to write something out, I just want it to be good enough for you all.. Anyway, enjoy the read <3

Katsuki can feel the burn of stomach bile sitting at the back of his throat, his stomach churning painfully with insurmountable guilt, regret, and self-blame. His eyes stare unblinking at your closed casket, the muffled and distant sound of your parents crying next to him echoing in his ears. They don’t know that he’s the real reason why there couldn’t be an open-casket service.. They don’t know that he’s the real reason why there’s a funeral service being held for you in the first place.. They don’t know that he’s nothing but a bastard who didn’t deserve their daughter.

Flashbacks to the day you ended your life fill Katsuki’s vision when he dissociates as he continues staring at your casket. Day and night, awake and asleep, it all haunted him; the horrible images, the echoing screams, the nauseating smell of blood.. He had been a few minutes too late. He had just gotten out of his haphazardly parked car, panicked and intent on racing up to the apartment you shared with him, when he saw the growing crowd of horrified bystanders. Everything seemed to drain from Katsuki’s body the moment he saw them, and he numbly made his way over to the side of the building where they were gathering.

A few people were crying, a couple were vomiting off to the side, and someone wouldn’t stop screaming. Everything had felt surreal, like it was a terrible nightmare, as Katsuki moved past people to get to you. When he had gotten to the front of the crowd, all of the bystanders moving back and believing that Pro Hero Dynamight was there to help somehow, Katsuki just froze. He just watched with numb disbelief as an elderly woman laid a handkerchief over your face and whispered a prayer for you. He spent a moment or two convincing himself that the broken body in front of him wasn’t you until he saw the bracelet he’d given you for your birthday sitting on your blood spattered arm.

That was when he had lost it, when every emotion had hit him all at once. Pictures and videos from that day haunt him just as much as the memories. The moment he fell to his knees with tears dripping down his face and mouth open in a silent scream. The moment he had to turn away so as to not vomit on or near your body. The moment he sat on the bloody ground next to your body and held your cold, dead hand until the police got there. Even the video of Izuku and Kirishima pulling Katsuki away from your body as paramedics zipped you up in a body bag still circulated his social media feeds as much as it had when it was first posted.

But he deserved to be reminded of that day, didn’t he? The way he sees it is that he’s practically the one who pushed you off of that roof. If he hadn’t started seeing Ochaco again behind your back, then maybe he could have the woman he actually loves in his arms again. He still can’t find a good excuse for why he started sleeping with Ochaco. She had been a lot of firsts for Katsuki; first relationship, first kiss, first time sleeping with someone.. Sure, he had heard that it’s hard for people to truly let go of the person who they shared “firsts” with, so maybe that’s why he slept with her. Even with all of the firsts he shared with Ochaco he didn’t feel for her what he felt for you, he didn’t love her.

But his shitty excuses or vows to continue loving you even though you’re gone will never clear him of being a lying, cheating bastard. If he could have just one more chance to start over and be a better man, not that he would deserve it, but you deserved so much more from life. You deserved to do the things you loved. You deserved good times with friends and family. You deserved to be loved by someone light-years better than Katsuki will ever be. You deserved brighter days lived without the silent pain and suffering.

Looking around at every single person that showed up to mourn the loss of your beautiful presence, Katsuki knows. Listening to your family, Hatsume, and others speak about you and the happiness you brought into their lives, Katsuki knows. Standing up in front of everybody suppressing the urge to vomit up his guilt and stuttering through his own final words to and about you, Katsuki knows..

You truly were the greatest.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a known fact since that almost nothing could pull Mei Hatsume away from her work. Not people, not basic human necessities, not even the fear of war. Her drive was incomparable to anything most have ever seen before. It concerned most people, but then there was you. Yes, you were concerned for the pink-haired girl’s well-being, ever since the day you two had become friends. But you were the only one willing to stay right by Mei’s side providing support, sustenance, and help when needed. Even if you two didn’t talk very much during times when either of you were so focused on a project, there was still a blanket of comforting silence.

All of that is gone, now.

Being able to bounce ideas off of each other, gone. Having you stop by the shop to check on her and bring her food, gone. Sleepovers spent watching inventor documentaries all night, gone. The rare lunch break spent at yours and Mei’s favorite cafe, gone. The only person that’s ever felt like a sister to Mei, gone. Gonegonegonegonegonegone- everything is just fucking gone!

Mei has never felt so empty, so coldly numb, before in her life. She’s sitting by your parents, and every sound is muted like her head is underwater. She stares at your coffin, numbly unaware of the tears flowing down her face. It feels like her Quirk is active, her field of vision filled with what may or may not be the zoomed in view of your glossy black casket, and nausea tugs at her stomach. The heavily weighted emotions that came with the news of your death try to break through her numbness, and makes her skin crawl.

She’s moved through every stage of grief a million times over by now, her mind unable to comprehend that you’re just gone. There’s a constant back and forth within her brain of “how could she have not noticed your pain” and “you never showed your pain” with a bit of the fact that Mei knows that she buries herself in her work. She doesn’t know if her guilt is justified or not. The occasional glance at Bakugo and seeing him practically drowning in guilt and regret does and doesn’t help with justifying her own feelings. Mei was your best friend long before Bakugo was your boyfriend, she should have known you were struggling.

The day you died, Mei hadn’t even known that you, or anyone else, had tried to get a hold of her until damn near 1 AM when she finally left the workshop. She had grabbed her stuff from her office and dug her nearly dead phone out of her bag with a tired but accomplished smile on her face. She has always been used to having tons of notifications clouding her phone screen, with the way she worked herself, it was normal. So, she had made her way through the agency building humming and navigating through her phone to get to her voicemail. One from you; normal. A few from Izuku; not entirely out of the norm for when he had a new idea for gear or when he was being Mr. Caring Boyfriend. One from your parents.. that was the one that caused an uneasy feeling to churn in her stomach. Because as much as your parents loved Mei and vice versa, phone calls were rarely ever exchanged.

Mei listened to your voicemail first. Listening to how broken you sounded, that was the start of her world shattering around her. Then she listened to the voicemail your parents left. The gut-punch that the word “gone” had delivered knocked the breath from her lungs, and she could barely make out the tear-filled apologies spoken by your mother. By the time Mei finally got to Izuku’s voicemails, she was on her knees in the lobby of the agency, sobbing. She still isn’t sure how managed to call Izuku with the state she was in, all she could do was break.

Now, she’s here; standing in front of a crowd of your family and friends. Your lifeless body lying in the glossy black casket behind her. A tear-stained, wrinkled piece of paper held in her trembling hands as she musters up the will to speak. She eyes looks from Bakugo’s guilt-ridden face to your parents’ tear-soaked ones, then to Izuku’s sad but encouraging face. With a nod and a shaky breath, Mei glances down at the tear-blurred words on the paper..

“Y-Y/N is-was.. sh-she was tr-truly the gre-greatest..”

Note ~ Also, please forgive that this is for the most part unedited, and I didn't run it through grammarly.. I love and appreciate every single one of you, and I'm sorry that I've been lacking lately. Just keep being amazing and bearing with me, Lovelies. <3

[niffala]

Regrets

Pairing: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve overhears something he was never meant to. 

Warnings: all angst, asshole Eddie

A/N: No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Main Masterlist   

Steve giddily parked his BMW in front of the school. Looking next to him, he ran his hand over the engraved EMSH on the guitar case, imagining the smile it would cause. It almost felt like a dream, finding someone that loved him as much as he loved them. No more lonely movie nights where the only warm thing to hold was the popcorn. His boyfriend looked after him, accepted him, kissed and held him. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Inside the case held all the stuff Eddie would need to take the best care of his sweetheart; new strings, tools, conditioner, polishing oil and cloths. He couldn't wait til Eddie got home, so Steve decided to surprise him by showing up to Hellfire club. He bounced out of his car, practically shaking with excitement because he knew his Eddiebear would love the gift.

He greeted the kids as they came out, mounting their bikes to ride home.

Dustin huffed, "You coulda told us you'd be here. A ride would be appreciated now and then."

"Quit whining. I haul your ungrateful behinds around all the time."

The boy pointed his chin at the item in Steve's arms, "What ya got there?"

Steve protectively held the case tighter, "Just something for Eddie. He still inside?"

"Yep, he's cleaning up the drama room."

Grinning ear to ear, he continued his path to the building. Lifting his arm to wave goodbye to the kids, “Have a good night guys.”

“You too, loverboy.” A chorus of laughter and kissing noises followed as they rode off.

Under different circumstances, Steve would have playfully chased after them for that, but tonight he was on a mission.

Approaching the drama room, he could see Eddie and his friends through the small window. Putting away the game, tucking away the chairs and turning off the stage lighting. Preparing to push the door open, he pauses when he hears his name.

“...No can do. I'm meeting Steve right after this. I can get beers with you guys another time.”

Steve was touched that Eddie made him a priority in his life. His heart began to soar, only to immediately fall at the next words spoken.

Gareth tsked, “Never thought I'd see you and Harrington together. I mean he's such an asshole. Mr high and mighty always thinking he's better than everyone else.”

“He's always been a judgmental douche. Looked down on all of us in high school. Him and his buddies made our lives hell. Don't know how you put up with that arrogant jerk all these months.” Jeff was equally displeased with Eddie’s choice.

Steve’s brows furrowed while listening to Eddie's friends bad mouth him and mock their relationship. He held his breath, waiting for his boyfriend to come to his defense. Instead, Eddie played into it.

The metalhead rolled his eyes dramatically. “I told you guys a hundred times, we aren’t dating, it's just a hookup. I got Harrington wrapped around my finger.”

Emboldened by his friends’ chuckles, Eddie hopped onto the table, sitting with his legs criss crossed and continued. “Seriously the guy is putty in my hands, will do whatever I say. I'm getting what I can out of our arrangement. No feelings involved. Not sure his majesty has feelings anyway.”

“Why put up with him then?”

Eddie shrugged, “Cause he spoils me. Takes me out and buys me things. And you have NO IDEA the POWER I feel having King Steve on his knees just for me. It's addicting.” He scrunched up his face and bit his knuckle suggestively. Feeding off the attention and approval he received. “But not to worry, I'll be ending it soon. I'm starting to get bored. And I'll rip my ears off if I have to listen to his shitty music one more time.”

“Ughhh,” Eddie fell back, staring at the ceiling, “I need it to be over. Been letting it go on for too long. The gifts and the sex are nice and all, but I need something more with someone with a lot more going on upstairs.” He tapped his head to uproarious laughter.

The air around him was too hot. Steve clutched his chest, feeling something breaking deep within him. Unable to swallow the lump in his throat, he couldn’t hear anymore. He ran back to his car, his vision blurry from the hot tears spilling down his face.

‘He doesn't love me, doesn't give a shit about me at all. He'd been using me this whole time. It was all just to humiliate me. Make me fall in love with him so he could break me and have a good laugh with his friends. How could I be so stupid?'

Steve threw the useless present into the backseat, starting the vehicle and pulling out of the lot as fast as he could. The severe pain in his chest made him wish he could rip out his heart and throw it out the car window, watching in his rearview mirror as it exploded on the roadside.

He couldn't recall a single moment of the drive until arriving at Robin's door. By the time she sat him down, he was sobbing so hard, he could barely get a word out. Robin made him tea, wiped his face with a cool washcloth and rubbed his back until he calmed down. He confessed to her what he heard. She was suspiciously quiet as she listened. 

Before he went to bed, Steve left a message on Eddie's machine saying he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it tonight. He hung up before an ‘I'm sorry and I love you’ slipped out. He didn't want to embarrass himself further. It's not like Eddie would notice or care. It never meant a thing to him anyway.

'I was such a fool to think anyone would actually love me back.’

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

The next day, Eddie stopped over to check on Steve. It wasn’t like him to miss a date, he must really have been sick. Not to worry though because he was fully prepared to nurse his man back to health.

To Eddie’s surprise, Robin answered the door instead… and punched him square in the face.

“What the fuck, Buckley?!” Holding his throbbing nose, he stepped away from the angry woman in case she decided to take another swing.

“Fuck you, Munson! You stay the hell away from Steve.”

“I'll see my boyfriend if I want to.” This was absurd, he tried to move around her to go inside. “What is your problem?”

Robin used all her might to shove him away. “Oh, he's your boyfriend now? Thought it wasn't a relationship and you were just getting what you could out of it.”

“Look I don't know what you think you heard...”

“I didn't. Steve did.”

Eddie froze, his heartbeat skyrocketing. All color drained from his face, his bloody nose slowly dripping onto his shirt in sharp contrast.

“Yeah, he was bringing you a gift and heard everything you and your nasty friends said about him.” Robin shook her head at him, sneering, “He's changed so much, you should know that more than anyone. And he loves you. He doesn't deserve to be treated this way, especially from you.”

“Shit. Shit! It's not what you think. God, I’ve got to talk to him. I...”

“I don't think so.” She wasn’t going to budge.

“But you don't understand, I can explain.”

“No buts, Munson. Because it can only be one of two things.” She held up one finger, “Either you meant what you said last night, which makes you the Grand Poobah of assholes.” 

She held up a second finger, “Or you are too embarrassed to claim Steve as yours and admit you love him back. I honestly don't care which because it still makes you a cowardly piece of shit that broke my best friend's heart and I'm not letting you near him again. Got it!”

Eddie just hung his head and nodded. Wincing as Robin slammed the door in his face.

He remained rooted to the spot, the guilt eating at him. He wished he could go back in time and rip those horrible words out of his lying mouth. He felt sick.

'I ruined everything. How could I be so fucking stupid, why did I say those things?'

Eddie imagined kicking down the door, running to Steve, screaming ‘I love you! I love you! I love you! I'm sorry, please forgive me. I swear I didn't mean a word of it. Not a fucking word. And I'm so fucking sorry. Please don't leave me.’ He'd get on his knees and beg until his beloved took him back.

He's not sure how long he stood there staring at his Reeboks. No sign of movement from inside the house. Finally accepting defeat, Eddie turned tail, fleeing back to his van. He knew he wouldn't get another chance. Why stick around.

Sniffing and wiping at his stinging eyes, he fumbled the keys, dropping them into the dirt. “Fuck!” He rammed his fist into the driver's side door, before bending over to grab the keys.

Unlocking the door and getting in, Eddie sat there staring at his swollen and swiftly bruising knuckles. Something was definitely broken. Wouldn't be able to play for a while. He knew he should be more upset about that, but right now he couldn't care less. He lost his Stevie, his Sunshine.

Eddie gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, screaming at top of his lungs “FUCKKKKKKKKK!” Out of breath, he leaned his head on the wheel, allowing himself to cry. He was alone, living his worst nightmare.

It was over.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

[mad4turtles]

Hi 🙂 Loved your work over on Ao3, so I thought I'd shoot my shot at a rottmnt fic request!I had an idea for a prompt that has a premise like

• Takes place in the future timeline.

• I hc that CJ probably had at least ONE super rebellious moment in his younger years. I mean he's a child raised by both Cassandra Jones and the Hamatos 😂

• Casey Jr is still young enough that he's not allowed on missions

I can imagine CJ really pushing to start going on missions after witnessing the aftermath of one gone very bad. He just wants to be more useful & be able to protect his family like they always protect him and aid the Resistance. Casey and Leo probably get into it on the topic of Casey going on missions cause Leo is both his sensei AND one of his primary parental figures. CJ wants, Leo definitely does not want.

CJ sneaks out anyway to prove a point & scares the crap out of the fam. CJ runs into some trouble, maybe gets only mildly hurt, but scared & definitely learned an important lesson. Leo and the squad pull up ready to annihilate x5 cause their kid is the thing that's in danger. Some much needed, healthy heart to heart between Leo and CJ after everyone is safe and any wounds are treated. Cause their bond has me in a chokehold 🥹

Thank you for offering up request! Super awesome if this prompt is do-able for you!

... anon. my friend, my good pal. Do you know what you have done to me?

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR AN EXCUSE TO LION KING THE HELL OUT OF THESE TURTLES AND YOU HAVE GRANTED MY WISH. I salute you!

This is a two-parter because I got 9 pages in and really didn't want to rush this. I was having far too much fun!

Enjoy Part 1 XD

(EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE)

---

brave when i have to be

“Absolutely not.”

And really, Casey should have expected it. Even so, his jaw drops. “What?! Why?!”

Master Hamato Leonardo, leader of the only Resistance faction in the remains of Merica, and Casey's godfather, plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “We've been over this a thousand times, CJ—”

“But sensei,” Casey interrupts, stepping forward and clutching Uncle Tello's chainsaw hockey stick tight to his chest, “I can help! I'm not as strong as you, but I can still hold my own! I can scout, carry supplies back to base, or—or anything besides sitting around down here doing nothing while everyone else—!”

“I sincerely hope you're not just 'sitting around down here doing nothing' when there is plenty of training you could be doing and studying you can be catching up on,” Uncle Leo—no, Sensei right now—shoots back with an arched brow, frowning. At Casey's silent squirming, he leans forward with narrowed eyes that the boy avoids. "Don't think I haven't noticed. I got word from your dear Uncle Tello that your most recent test scores were, ah, disappointing.���

“Snitch,” Casey whines, scowling at the floor. 

Sensei leans back with another sigh, massaging his wrinkled brow with his prosthetic hand. Casey tries not to stare and fails. 

“Look, bud,” Sensei says, “Your heart is in the right place. You want to help, prove yourself and all that jazz, and you've come a long way. I mean that. But you're still young. Hell, even I wasn't going out fighting bad guys when I was your age; I was hot-wiring cars with Don for joyrides, vandalizing corporate office buildings—shitty teenage boy stuff that we thought was cool. Right now, that's all I want from you; to be safe down here, doing shitty teenage boy stuff while you still can. And keeping up with your training and studies, too, that's kinda important.”

Casey rolls his eyes. “Kinda hard to do that stuck down here, but whatever...” he mutters.

 Sensei's eye twitches. “Okay, I know I just said you should be a shitty teen, but that attitude right now is no bueno, niñito.”

“I'm not a little boy anymore, Sensei!” Casey cries. “I can take care of myself! I can fight, just like you! This is what you trained me for, isn't it?! To fight the Krang and save our world! I can help, why won't you let me—?!”

“Because you're not ready, dammit!” Sensei snaps, and Casey almost jumps. The slider lets out another breath, muttering what sounds like a prayer for patience. “You're not ready, Case. The Krang are stronger than all of us—I can barely stand to send your uncles and aunt up there, you think I wanna drag you along and watch you get—”

“I'm not weak, Sensei!”

“I'm not saying that, don't put words into my mouth—”

“Well, you're sure implying it!”

“Again, you can knock off that attitude—jeez, I sound like my Dad—”

“I'm not a baby, Sensei!” Casey stomps his foot. Yes, it's childish, but damn it, his Sensei won't listen. “You can't shelter me from everything!”

“You're really gonna make me say it. You're really gonna make me pull that card, aren't you.”

Casey bristles, his chest hot. “Don't—“

“Your mother left me with a responsibility to look after you, kid,” Sensei cuts in like a knife, prodding a metal finger in Casey's chest where his mother's mask is tucked against his shirt. “I promised her that I'd watch over you if the worst ever happened. And guess what, it did. And if you think for a second that I'm gonna break that promise over your stupid-ass death wish—!”

Eyes stinging and hot, Casey slaps the metal hand away and screams, “To hell what you think, you're not my father!”

Silence. 

Casey hears a leaky pipe dripping, his own thundering heartbeat. He looks up. His Sensei's face is slack with shock—and a hint of hurt—as he stares at Casey. For what feels like forever, they just stare at each other.

Casey wants to take it back—he needs to take it back because none of that was even remotely true or fair. It was mean, and Casey Jones Jr is a lot of things but he's not mean. That's not how he was raised, in part by the very turtle standing before him. He has to take it back.

But while Casey isn't mean, he is every inch his mother in her stubbornness, so he locks his jaw.

Sensei's expression goes blank. The slider takes a step back, drawing a deep breath that's barely steady, shoulders squared and shit. Casey should've taken it back. 

“... You're right,” Sensei says, his voice hard and cold. “You're right. I'm not your father. But I am your teacher and your superior officer, and as long as you're living under my layer of earth and metal, you'll obey my rules. You can start by reporting to the mess hall to cover Dan on dish duty, then you can take yourself straight to your quarters for the rest of the evening. Tee-ell-dee-arr, this discussion is over, and your ass is grounded.”

Casey chokes. “W-What?!”

"Uh-huh. For a month."

"What?!"

“You heard me. Think of this as your punishment for your insubordination and disrespect.”

“Kutabare.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can't just—!”

“Keep it up and see what happens, I am being so serious right now.”

Casey meets his Sensei glare for glare. Ultimately, stubbornness aside, Casey relents first, scowling at the floor. “... Yessir,” he bites out.

Sensei nods curtly. “Good. Dismissed.” 

Casey turns on his heel and storms out of Sensei's room, hissing under his breath the whole way to the mess hall. 

(He doesn't hear his Sensei's hitched sigh or see the trembling hand that covers his face as he sits heavily on the bed.)

~0o0~

It's a stupid, stupid idea. 

But his Sensei always told him to trust his gut and follow his heart—it's his greatest strength—and Casey's heart is screaming at him to help. 

This isn't for him—not entirely. It's for everyone who comes home beaten and bloody, hope crumbling with every defeat. It's for the ones who never come back—for his Mom and Uncle Raph, who loved him, all of them, enough to stay behind and die with a war cry and a smile. It's for his Sensei, still recovering from losing his arm.

I'm doing this for them, he thinks as he slips his mask on, putting all his training to use as he sticks to the shadows, creeping along the edge of the crowd of foragers before slipping into an empty crate. His heart pounds in his ribcage, ears ringing as he feels the crate start to move, mechanical wheels squeaking as the squad move out through the tunnels. 

I'm not weak. I'm not defenceless. I can do this. I can help.

~0o0~

Casey doesn't go to the surface often. Uncle Tello used to bring him up to try and find the stars when the pollution wasn't as dense, lifting him and pointing out the constellations they could see from their hiding spot. Master Michelangelo brought him once to fly him over the ruins of New York, and show him what had once been a bustling city full of people; Casey still can't wrap his head around that many people existing in one space without a care.

But that was years ago.

Casey can still find his way back to base. He has the evacuation routes memorized down to the last detail, and Master Michelangelo had left mystic markings to lead lost ones back home, near invisible unless you knew what to look for—

“Or if you're family,” he'd said with a grin and wink. “Then you won't just see it. You'll feel it. The pull of home.”

Now, as Casey wanders the wasteland of what used to be Lower Manhattan, he wishes he could feel that pull. Leaving the foraging troop to scout ahead for danger was not one of his better ideas. Especially when they didn't know you had tagged along, and they move on without you. 

If I don't die out here, I'm dead when I get back, Casey thinks as he crouches behind the wreckage of a vehicle buried in the ruins, trying not to panic and mostly failing.

Sensei had lost his arm in their most recent mission. He'd barely made it back alive, Commander O'Neil dragging him on her back, ragged, burnt and losing blood fast. They were among the seven survivors from the raid that had left with seventeen. 

It was close. They'd had a replacement ready in time, but it was. Too. Close. 

Casey had already lost his mom. He can barely remember her voice now. He can't lose Uncle Leo. He can't lose anyone else because he can't protect them. He can't. He won't. 

Still, he thinks as he curls up into a ball to fight the chill sweeping across the landscape, you probably should've listened.

“What do we have here?”

Casey's heart skips. 

Shit.

Instinct saves him as he rolls out of the way right as the robotic claws of a Krang suit obliterate his shelter. 

The dust clears, revealing the glowing, delighted eyes of the creature piloting the mech suit looming over him. Jagged teeth flash in the red glare of the mech's singular eye as the Krang grins down at the boy trembling at its feet.

Casey gapes behind his mask. He'd gone out looking for trouble, and it finds him in the form of—

“Krang Subprime!”

Subprime cackles. “That's right! I see that my reputation precedes me. About damn time, too!”

Casey's heard enough stories and reports to know how dangerous Subprime is. Responsible for leading the charge that had wiped out Asia and melted the icecaps, he's Krang Prime's right hand for a reason. 

He'd gotten the drop on the raid team in the last mission. He'd taken Uncle Leo's arm. And now he's found Casey. Alone. 

Casey can't beat him. He'll die out here, and no one will know until it's too late.

You should've listened.

But Subprime has a weakness. A glaring one that most Krang don't seem to have. All Casey needs to do is exploit it, buy himself some time. He won't win, but he'll live. And get this asshole back for nearly killing his Uncle. Maybe. Hopefully.

Spirits, please let this work.

“Not really,” he says, surprised when his voice doesn't shake like the rest of him. “Everyone thinks you're freaking annoying, nothing compared to Prime. My Uncle says your all bark, no balls.”

Subprime's eyes pop open wide, mouth gaping like a fish. Casey considers laughing.

(His one weakness: his ego is fragile as hell.)

“You—You little shit!” he squawks, stomping closer and leaning down until he's face to wrinkled, pink face with Casey, eyes blazing. Casey holds his position, gripping his weapon tight in one hand, holding his breath against the stink of Krang flesh and dripping saliva. 

“I should vaporize your sorry butt right freaking here, you disrespectful waste of flesh! Sure, Prime may be our leader, but I'm the tactical mastermind, y'hear me! I'm the reason we've come this far in taking over this planet! I'm the brains in the outfit—!”

“Literally though,” Casey grins, shifting ever so slightly on his back. Rocks and metal dig into his back, and he does his best to ignore it. He has never been this close to a living Krang, and he's scared shitless, but he can't falter. He can still get away. He can still live. “I mean, You are a giant brain thing in a mech suit, so...”

“Shut up! You talk more than that dumb blue turtle with the fancy sword.” Then Subprime grins, slow and vicious. “Speaking of which, how is he? Last I saw, he was bleedin' out pretty bad after I bit his arm off. Never heard him scream like that. It was music to my ears.” He licks his lips. “His blood tasted delightful.”

Casey wants to be sick. He wants to kill this disgusting son of a bitch more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. 

Keep your cool, Case, Sensei's voice echoes in his ears. Anger is a dangerous ally when it's not focused. Sharpen it. Give it form. 

Casey breathes in. 

“Aw, got nothin' to say, pipsqueak?” Subprime chuckles, slamming a metal hand beside Casey's head, caging him in. “Now, you've got two options. You can spend the rest of your worthless life in our labour camp, or go ahead and make your last request. If nothing else, it'll be entertaining. I do enjoy the way you humans beg for mercy.”

Casey breathes out. 

“In that case, I have one request if you would kindly grant it,” he says softly. 

Subprime chortles and leans in, jagged teeth dripping. “I'm all ears.” 

“Could you scream in agony like a little girl bleeding from the face?”

Subprime blinks. “Could I what—?”

Casey thrusts his roaring chainsaw into Subprime's left eye. 

Subprime screeches and rears back, metal hand cradling his bleeding face. “YOU—YOU SON OF A—!”

Casey is already running, leaping over and ducking under debris and wreckages from a time long gone. 

For my Sensei, you dusty bitch!

He can hear Subprime giving chase, moving faster than anything Casey can hope to outpace. But he has size on his side, and he squeezes through tight gaps between collapsed buildings and pipework, crawling through a gaping fissure in the ground leading to the sewer system. Far too big and down an eye, Subprime struggles to catch up, bellowing and hissing after Casey as he brute forces his way through the rubble and vines, claws just catching the frayed hem of Casey's cape.

“Shit—!” Casey stumbles, careening into a wall slick with Krang slime and—a familiar smell that Casey doesn't want to think about too much as he bolts down through the tunnel, feet and heart pounding. He'd thought—hoped—blinding the bastard would've slowed him down. 

“Wretched brat! I'll tear you limb from limb, you insignificant—!”

“Can't catch me, bitch!” Casey screams back, scrambling up a rusty ladder that leads back to the surface. Adrenaline pumps through him like electricity, and he all but punches the sewer grate, barely feeling the pain in his busted knuckles, crawling out into the open. 

He remembers this street; it leads to the Hudson Cross—from there, he can find Uncle Mikey's runes. He can get home—

“Gotcha!”

Cold, solid metal slams Casey into the asphalt, pinning him face down. His hockey stick flies from his grip, skidding out of reach. The breath leaves him in a painful rush, he can't even cry out as one claw pierces his shoulder. Warmth pools under his shirt and drips onto the concrete, sticky and wet.

No.

“Heh... hehe,” Subprime's wheezing laughter over Casey's head feels like a blade against his neck, honed, ready and aching to swing. “Thought you could get away, did ya?”

No, please. 

He can't help it. Casey sniffles, tears leaking through his eyelids as he squeezes them shut.

I was so close.

“Awww, what's this? Tears? Gimme a Krangin' break!” Subprime presses harder. Casey chokes on a sob as his bones creak in protest. “What's next, you gonna call mommy and daddy to come save you from the big, mean old Krang-y? Ha! Should'a thought of that before ya blinded me, you freakin' pest!”

Help. Somebody, please, Sensei—

“Forget the labour camp.” Subprime tightens his grip and lifts Casey's limp, bleeding body off the ground. “I'm gonna enjoy smashing you to a bloody pulp instead!”

Help me, please! Da—

“Put. Him. Down.”

Casey's eyes snap open.

Subprime's grin falls. “Huh—?”

A flash of green, and a blade slices Subprime's arm from his shoulder. 

Casey's falling for half a heartbeat before two strong arms pluck him from the air. His stomach swoops as he scrambles for purchase on—he squints—Uncle Tello's shoulders as they zip across the street on the propellers of Tello's battle shell. “Oh my god!” he cries.

“Not quite,” Uncle Tello quips as he skids across the broken street and sticks the landing. His purple visor flickers to life across his eyes, analysing Casey's from head to toe. He doesn't put him down. “Are you alright?”

Casey's knuckles are broken on his right hand. His shoulder and nose are still oozing blood, and his body feels like one giant bruise from that chokeslam into the ground. He can hear Sensei and Commander O'Neil holding an enraged Subprime back behind them, and his heart feels ready to leave his body with how hard it's beating. Other than that—

“I-I'm okay,” he stammers. He sniffs, swiping his unbroken hand under his nose. “I'm—I'm okay.”

Uncle Tello doesn't look convinced. “Can you stand?” he asks anyway. Casey nods, and Uncle Tello sets him down carefully. He keeps one strong arm draped around Casey's shoulders, bringing the other up to speak into his vambrace, his tone clipped and urgent. “Nardo, April, I've got him. A little banged up, but nothing serious. I've also got a pack of Krang Hounds incoming from the south, ETA two minutes. Sister is with them and seems to be in a good mood. Much as I want to carve the innards out of Subpar here, we gotta book it.”

Casey gulps. Subprime is one thing, but he never wants to meet the Sister. 

He looks over his shoulder—and chokes when he sees Master Leonardo standing on top of Subprime's fallen mech, sword poised over his bloody eye. He can't see the slider's face, but his voice carries across the empty street, cold and dark and nothing at all like the man he knows—

“Don't. Touch. My boy.”

And then he carves Subprime's eyeball out of the socket, tossing it across the street. 

Subprime wails in agony, thrashing on the ground and narrowly missing Commander O'Neil as she slides neatly under his flailing leg, nabbing Casey's weapon as she sprints over to them, Master Leonardo not far behind. 

“Get going!” she shouts. 

Casey doesn't need telling twice and runs like a bat out of hell, not daring to look back. Uncle Tello, who can run (or fly) rings around Casey any day, sticks close to his side. Commander O'Neil draws up on his right, leaving his Master at the rear, boxing Casey in.

“How're we gonna get back to base before they get here?!” he cries. He can hear the barking and howling already, getting louder, closer.

His aunt grins. “Same way we got here so fast!”

Ahead, golden light explodes like a star against the twilight, leaving a mystic ring of blessed orange in its wake. 

Master Michelangelo hovers above it, winking. “All aboard the Mikey Express, leaving now!”

“Impeccable timing, little brother!” Uncle Tello crows. Casey wants to cry. 

They all leap through the mystic portal right as the first Hound rounds the corner of a building. Michelangelo zips through last and shuts it with a swipe of his hands, plunging them into darkness and silence save for their panting.

They're back in the tunnels. They're home.

Casey drops his head with a shuddering breath, leaning back into Michelangelo's steadying hands on his shoulders. It stings, but it's grounding. He can breathe. It's over.

Then he lifts his head to look at the back of his Sensei's shell, sees his clenched fists and thinks it is far from over.

“Leonardo,” Uncle Tello approaches the slider, one hand reaching out. “It's fine. It's fine, we are all fine, so I need you to do me a solid and breathe—”

Sensei slowly turns his head to face Uncle Tello, and even Commander O'Neil takes a step back at the frigid rage swirling in his eyes. Michelangelo inhales sharply through his nose, gently pulling Casey closer. Uncle Tello doesn't flinch, meeting his twin's glare evenly. Eventually, he backs off with raised hands. 

Then Sensei turns to Casey, and Casey wilts under his stare. He's pissed.

Somehow, Casey finds his voice. “...um... Sensei, I—”

“You. Deliberately disobeyed me,” Master Leonardo says lowly, and oh god, he's not pissed. He is livid. 

Casey shrinks back against Michelangelo's chest, his grip the one thing keeping his knees from folding under him. “Sensei, I'm—I'm sorry—”

“Medbay. Now.” 

Master Leonardo marches past them, brisk and tense, a silent threat that they should follow if they want to live. 

Uncle Tello and Commander O'Neil share a look that Casey can't translate. Then Uncle Tello sighs, his expression crumpling for the first time as he buries his face in his hands. This close, Casey can see how much they're shaking. 

Casey's gut twists viciously with guilt. 

Commander—no—Aunt April pats Uncle Tello's shoulder firmly with one hand, the other pulling back his frayed purple hood. “It's alright, Don," she says. "Casey's here. Leo's here. We're all here." 

Uncle Tello's breath shudders out of him. His head still in his hands, his snout twists as he nods.

Aunt April smiles ruefully, patting the soft shell's arm again. "Go. Take care of yourself, Dee. We'll handle things here.”

Uncle Tello responds with another nod, making Casey's innards twist even more as he watches him go. 

Then Aunt April sighs, looking at Uncle Mikey and cocking her head after Master Leonardo. The mystic warrior nods back and ushers Casey forward, not letting him go.

“Don't worry, little man,” he says softly, pressing his beak into Casey's mangled hair. Like he's trying to convince himself that Casey's here at all. “We'll patch you up first, then we can rest. It's... it's been a long day.”

Tell me about it, Casey almost says. Instead—“'M really sorry, Uncle Mike...”

His Uncle sighs into his hair before pressing a kiss to his crown. “I know you are, little man. But I'm not really the guy you should be apologizing to.”

Casey gulps.

I think I might've had better chances with Subprime.

---

Part 2 coming soon!

(Feel free to send more requests <;3)

[iamaslutforcoffee]

Home Sweet Home chapter four

Eloise's point of view

"Eddie.. listen. Please just listen to me and think rationally" I looked at him, my hands cupping his face. He shooed my hands down, his face never meeting mine. Instead he stared blankly out the window to the side of us and I could tell he was hurt.

"Eddie.. please..." I spoke once more.

I knew he was hurt. I knew it. But he would have found out about Harrison anyways, his name is hyphenated into Harrisons. I named him after his uncle, who made him realize that he needed to grab ahold of me and never let go.

He's listed on the birth certificate..

"Eddie.. say something please.." I softly, tears threatened to spill.

"You never told me I have a son, Eloise." He eventually spoke. The class bell dinged, letting us know we were late. Class can wait, I was dealing with a crisis.

"Eddie i wrote everyday. You never responded. " I spoke, confused. I did write him every single day. I sent copies of Harrison's ultrasounds. I sent him a copy of the birth certificate.

"I never got it! Eloise what the fuck!?" He whispered loud enough for the both of us to hear. Finally he faced me and a tear was coming out of his left eye. I had to look away.

"Everyday I wrote, Eddie. I sent you a letter saying we were expecting. I sent ultrasounds, the gender reveal.. I sent it all Eddie." I spoke, growing frustrated with the situation.

Why wouldn't he believe me?

Until it pretty much dawned on me. Back in 8th grade, before I left, he was getting into a lot of fights with some kid who's dad was one of the mail carriers. I'm just fairly confident that because of those fights and Eddie being dubbed "The Freak", they intercepted the mail and took any and all letters.

"Eddie.. don't you fucking dare try to get pissed at me when You have NO right. NONE. You think my main goal in life was to keep our son a secret? For fucks sake Eddie I threw a DND themed baby shower and sent you invitations to it. I got to be pregnant, alone, scared.. without you by my side to help me navigate what the fuck was going on all while my mother was sick in the hospital dying from cancer, Eddie. Be honest, you had every chance to get in contact with me. Every opportunity. But you were probably more worried about selling fucking bunk weed and Chrissy fuckin' Cunningham!" I yelled at him, pushing him as hard as I could.

There was no stopping me this time, the tears were flowing.  He didn't even flinch. Or bother to stop me, he knew I couldn't hit hard enough to make it stick.

I just kept pushing him, and started hitting his chest. The nerve he had!

Exiting out the building and sitting on the trunk of my small and shitty car I started crying and wondering if coming back home to Hawkins was the right decision. I was scared, and alone. All over again.

I had my knees pulled up to my chest and my head in-between my legs trying to breath out this panic attack, knowing that the more i got upset the worse it was going to be. After 10 minutes, I heard walking besides me and the weight of my car shifted and I didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"What's his favorite food?" I heard Eddie ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"He uh, he loves macaroni, and honey comb cereal. " I sniffled, looking up but not at him.

"Does he act like me?" He asked, walking infront of me and grabbing my hands.

"He's the spitting image of you, Eddie. Poor kid sleeps just like you too with his mouth slightly open and drooling enough to where he could fill a pool" i spoke, wiping the reminits of tears away and looking at Eddie.

Oh, those eyes.. how I could get lost in them.

Eddie was staring at me and I could tell he just didn't know how to proceed on with the conversation.  I understood it was just a major shock to him, I owe him the grace of that.

"Eloise, I'm sorry. I just.. I didn't know how to react. First your back and my world stops. Then come to find out im getting my heart ripped out because we have a kid I didn't even know about and I could have been helping you with him...." Eddie spoke softly, cupping my face.

Looking at him I took in all of his features. The rings on his hands were cold against my skin. His eyes still the same, but he was tired. His hair was still curly and this time grown out, suiting him fairly well. He was my Eddie, and he always will be.

"Well next time, Munson, use that thick brain of yours and don't have word vomit " I said softly. 

He simply knodded, knowing now was probably the best time to just be quiet and let it go.

[mybloodyfamousprophets]

see a show, go inside, fountains running hot tonight, stare at the water from the deck, wondering if im ready yet,

you’re in my castle on the hill, looking at the edge of the world, my face looks like the waterfall, take my mind for a whirl, i’ll show you to the cable car, we’ll have a good time and not go too far, fly over the water into the breeze and come into my house of memories

let’s take the train to Niagara, falls in love some time, i need a friend for my adventure, take you for a ride

this was my hideaway in my spring flower days, running down the halls, but I’m a little older now and the leaves are red as fall, fall like the old theatre and that shitty hotel, kicked out over a call, left to walk the streets and think about it all

this road is a vein on the back of my hand, i follow it home, or at least to a feeling of where i could belong, longing in front of those red winter lights, feeling the air on november nights, in the first place i was truly free, i had to lose myself just to know me, battles were fought on this ground, and im not the warrior you thought you found, losing battle in my own mind, keep it in while i stay outside, take another drag to calm the nerves, i got what i want and i got what i deserve,

so i walk up the hill past that old arcade, but i don’t play games anymore, life is strange and the butterfly effect punches me in the face, you saw me here on the day i was hiding, that text made my heart race, on the go karts to the go train, you can’t be leaving me yet,

i can pick a building on this street and tell you it’s story, or what’s left of it anyways, a city so lost and left without glory,

a crumbling remain stands left of my youth, one of the places where ill talk the truth, or lie on the grass, stare at the falls and have a good laugh, ca-mera shutter will click on tune, three, cheese, smile,

i apologize, i got lost in your eyes, you add another page to this journal, line by line, write the thoughts off my mind, that i sing to myself from time to time, shooting a star to wish you were mine, i know that i'm wasting my damn time, but damn mind, my heart's racing, the thought of you sends my body pacing, and your touch would send my mind ablazing, last line fifth word autocorrected your last name in, write my songs you're taunting me, haunt my spirit it's past halloween, wonderland haunt don't go with me, behemoth coaster made me scream, ex didn't care won't listen to me, he don't care he's not for me, cut him out so sharply, sing a dumb song do re mi, dont have the time to be angry, can't let you see the worst in me,

i'm sorry, i got a little worked up, i hope i wasn't too emotional, hope you won't let me go if i'm about to fall, hope you won't go leave me alone, falling water so loud calms the soul, look back to my life and the things i know,

you’re always so pretty, and you add another page to this journal entry, the lines on this page take the thoughts off my mind, but i sing them myself from time to time, wishful thinking for a star that you’re mine, and i know that I’m wasting my damn time but damn mind, hearts racing, your thought sends my body pacing, and your touch would send my mind blazing, my phone changed that word to your last name, even when i write you’re taunting me, haunt my spirit but it’s not halloween, wonderland haunt don’t go with me, behemoth would make me scream, i told him don’t take me, ignored me, saw that text on his phone he didn’t really care about me, told him he’s not for me, out of my life do re mi, leave me to sing a song so angry, how did we get angry, we were having fun…

so i sit on the bench looking over the water, falling like the passing time, falling like me in my own mind, in love, in despair, but i hold no hate in my heart, there’s just some people i’ll never want to talk to again

this old desolate tourist trap of a city has a piece of my heart, a piece of my heart was in that torn down hotel, even if they kicked me out, a piece of my heart is in the water, i dropped it off the Lady, i dropped it to take a photo of you, but it was overexposed, you were just a flash of light

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[hoe-doroki]

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​ for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @therealvalkyrie​ for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding  him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[butwhyduh]

Fit to be Tied

Jason Todd x reader

Warning: Christmas? And the f word.

Christmas series 2

Jason didn’t pay much attention to holidays. Nope. That was for the living. He didn’t have much of need for it. But he did know that Christmas was quiet and New Years was busy for patrol. He guessed everyone ate Christmas dinner and and then got bored of playing nice. Or maybe that just wanted to start the new year with a big ass bang. Who knows?

Even when he was a kid, he didn’t celebrate the holidays. Too poor, mom too lost in drugs, and dad? Well fuck him. He was a piece of shit when he was around.

Jason kicked a beer can out of his way into the pile of trash on the sidewalk. They didn’t get the trash again this week it looked like. Daddy Bruce could play bat but couldn’t throw his money around enough to keep trash from piling on the street.

It was fine. He had more important things to do anyways. He had to buy a Christmas present. He didn’t care for the holidays but the sweet girl he had at home was a doll and fuck, if she didn’t deserve something. So Jason went down to the local pawn shop. Usually not a problem but it was 2 AM. Not exactly prime business hours.

So yes, Red Hood was breaking into a pawn shop to get a bracelet. He was leaving cash, $20 over the cost too. It was something you had seen earlier in the week and had admired. Gems of some kind shaped to look like a butterfly. You’d taken a minute longer to stare at it.

He left as quick as he came. And it wasn’t long until he was opening the window of your apartment dressed in street clothes. You were asleep. Jason had used the excuse of patrol to get out. But in the early morning hours of Christmas, he wanted to wake you.

“Princess,” he said gently. You moved a little before opening your eyes. You smiled up at him. Fuck, he didn’t deserve the way you looked at him. Your eyes looked so innocent and sweet. You never looked at him like he scared you.

“Jaybird, what’s going on?”

“I got you something for Christmas and it’s technically Christmas..” he said pulling out the box. You sat up, curious.

“It’s Christmas Eve. You got me something? I didn’t think we were- I didn’t get anything. I couldn’t-“ you said turning red. Money was too tight to consider it. The fact that the heat was still on this late in the month was a Christmas miracle.

“No no. It’s fine. Just being here is enough for me. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas anyways,” Jason said pushing the box in your hand. You held the box before kissing him.

You opened the box to see the bracelet you had been looking at the pawn shop. You smiled and stared at the pretty little butterfly. Jason watched you carefully for a reaction. He’d never admit it but he was more nervous now than fighting on the street.

“You saw me looking at it. I didn’t think you’d notice,” you murmured softly as you picked it up. Jason took it and wrapped it around your wrist. He clasped it on and you looked at it, moving your wrist in the light.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” you said quietly looking at it. You had a little grin on your face. Jason smiled. That’s the look he wanted. That little bit of happiness that you showed when you were really pleased. He intertwined his fingers in yours.

“Princess, you’re so cold,” Jason said with a frown. He could feel it colder outside but now that he was getting used to the temperature, it wasn’t warm as it should be.

“The heater was acting up again so I turned it down. The blankets are plenty warm,” you said and his heart all but broke. There was no way he was going to let you be cold all winter because the landlord wouldn’t fix things. He might pay this guy a visit. You sensed his anger.

“It’s okay, Jay. Come lay with me and get warm,” you said taking his hands. He let you pull him into bed. He kicked off his pants and shoes and laid on his side. You curled into him as a little spoon. His long big frame all but engulfed you. It always felt to protective. If he was holding you, he knew you were safe. Jason ran his fingers along your bracelet soft as his rough fingers could.

“You’re so good to me,” you said softly and his heart clenched again. Fuck, if you knew all the bad he did. His messed up past. He thought you would have run away when you first learned he was Red Hood but no, you had been kind.

“Naw, Princess you deserve more then this shitty place,” he said, and for the first time, he felt a little bad about giving all of his trust fund to the soup kitchen he would visit as a kid. A little would have been nice to get a better place for you. But he had been making a ton crushing the drug trade at the time and didn’t have a girl back home when he did it. He couldn’t be as reckless now.

You turned in his arms to look in his blue eyes. He has such an intense look on his face that you frowned. “Jaybird, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said pulling his face back to normal. “Just thinking. I wanna move you to a better place, a safer place than this,” he said running his thumb across your cheeks. You grasped his wrist and leaned into his touch. Jason would sometimes get like that. Thinking you deserved better. And you humored him even though you wouldn’t even know what to do with wealth.

“We’re moving. Soon. I’m promising now,” he said thinking about the painful conversation he was going to have with Bruce. His adoptive father he hadn’t even told you about. Bruce would do just about anything Jason asked. Probably the guilt of letting him die.

“But Jay, we’d miss the water that went from boiling to freezing at random. And I’m not sure if I can sleep without Mr and Mrs Jancowski having sex every Tuesday at 2 AM,” you said with a smile. He kissed you to shut you up. You were joking but each one felt like a little knife in his guilt. You pulled him over you and the thought of money troubles faded from your mind.

———————————————

Jason woke before you and watched you sleep. You laid on his chest with your hand in his hair and your soft breath on his throat. The bracelet was still on your wrist. You looked so peaceful, trusted him while you slept. Jason carefully grabbed his phone and texted Alfred. He’d also have to tell you about his adoptive family. His very famous adoptive family.

He threaded his fingers in your hand that was flung across his waist. You began to stir. Jason moved hair from your face and you blinked to see his pale blue eyes watching you.

“Morning, Princess,” he said with a rough morning voice. You smiled.

“Morning, Jaybird.”

“I’ve got something to tell you,” he started. “I want you to meet my family tonight.”

“Tonight? Your family? I thought your parents...” you trailed off.

“I was adopted. I never told you because I don’t have the best relationship with them. But I think it’s time for you to meet them. I’ve got to tell you something else,” he said and you could hear his heart beat quicker as you laid on him.

“My adoptive father is Bruce Wayne.”

Silence.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. And tonight I’m taking you to meet him. And my adoptive siblings.”

“You aren’t joking,” you said sitting up. Jason sat up too.

“I’m not. I’m kinda the... black sheep of the family. He adopted me when I was 12. I was trying to boost the wheels from the b- Bentley he was driving,” Jason corrected. It was one thing to tell you he was Red Hood. He couldn’t say Bruce Wayne was Batman.

“Wow. I- wow. Okay. That’s a lot to take in. Also on brand to be honest,” you said and he smiled and shrugged.

“Wait. What the fuck do you wear to the freaking Wayne manor for Christmas Eve?” You said a little panicky.

“Whatever you want. It’s just family,” he said with a sideways smile.

“Oh no. I can’t go to freaking Wayne Manor in a Kmart sweater,” you said quickly.

“You can wear,” he said hopping out of bed. He dug way in the back of his closet for a pretty red sweater that was slightly oversized. “This. Should fit fine. Pretty expensive too.”

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“I’ve had it for year and it definitely doesn’t fit now,” Jason said with a laugh. “Try it on.”

—————————————

The weather sucked. Freaking sleet that threatened everything it touched. You were grateful it wasn’t a night of Jason patrolling. This meant taking your car instead of Jason’s motorcycle. Your car was at least 15 years old and you called it Frankenstein because of all the repairs done over the years.

The radio skipped as Jason drove over a speed bump by Wayne Manor and you burst out laughing. Jason looked at you from the side.

“It’s not that funny,” he said. “What’s up?”

“My car is trash, I’m wearing your old sweater, and we’re late. If you weren’t the black sheep before, bringing me home, you will be now,” you said. He grabbed your hand and parked in front of a random house.

“I’ve been the black sheep since I was a kid and you aren’t going to change any thing for the worse. Trust me. In fact they’ll probably think you’re too good for me,” Jason said with a dry chuckle. “So don’t worry about anything. Except making room for pudding. I know it sounds weird,” he said starting to drive again. “But it’s the best part of Christmas.”

Wayne Manor was huge. You knew that. You’d even seen it on tv. But to see it in front of you was honestly terrifying, especially in the nasty weather. You almost hoped Jason was playing some weird elaborate joke and was going to drive on by but he knew the passcode to the gate. He drove in the covered drop off spot by the front door and parked. You both quickly ran in the building.

The front entry was breathtaking. A gigantic Christmas tree and a full staircase decked out in garland like a Hallmark movie. It was like a magazine. In fact, it was in the Christmas episode of Gotham Life the year before.

You gripped Jason’s hand tightly as you walked down the hall. Your shoes sounded unnaturally loud and you had the urge to quiet them like it was a library. Jason pulled you to the doorway of a dinning room full of people settling to eat. Jadon cleared his throat.

“Master Jason! You made it,” Alfred said excitedly. “I recieved your message but it’s been many years. Sit. Sit.”

“Glad you could come,” Jason’s brother Dick said with a grin. He looked at you in curious excitement. You looked down at some kind of mushroom soup placed in front of you. Everyone else was dressed so nicely and ate so perfectly. It was intimidating.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas,” Jason said shrugging. He gave Dick a look that said don’t ask. It didn’t take much for Dick to drop it because he seemed incredibly distracted. You spent most of the meal trying to keep up on conversations you clearly didn’t understand while trying food you’ve never seen before. You could barely remember everyone you were introduced to. One of Jason’s sister(s?) gave you a big hug along with everyone else when she arrived. You couldn’t tell anyone what was even said after the meal. Or so you thought.

Until right across from you, Dick proposes to his girlfriend. He stuttered around before finally asking. “Will you marry me? Oh god, I have a ring,” he said producing one. Everyone watched as she stared in the box.

“Will I marry you?” She asked faintly and you worried she’d say no. How terrible would it be??

“Please say something,” he pleaded and you could tell the man was practically in pain before she said yes. They kissed, the family applauded, and champagne was served.

Jason watched you from the corner of his eyes. How did you react to this? What did you think? You didn’t look jealous or anything. It made Jason think of marriage. He hadn’t before. He’d thought about moving into something more permanent but marriage. He’d never thought about marriage as his future, ever. Of course when you die at 16 and come back with a vengeance, love is low on the priority list.

“Jaybird, you there,” you asked slightly tapping his shoulder. He blinked and looked at you.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just in my head,” he said and you nodded. He’d do that sometimes.

“The party is moving to the parlor,” you said quietly in a proper rich Gothamite voice and Jason huffed before covering his smiling mouth with a nose rub. The rest of the group was moving ahead of you. Dick and his new fiancé were retiring for the night.

“I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”

“I’m so sorry, dearest. I can’t understand you with a silver spoon in your mouth,” you laughed. Jason rolled his eyes before guiding your shoulders towards the door. You heard a soft laugh behind you and you turned to see Tim’s girlfriend smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to use that on Tim,” she said grabbing her coat and walking out.

After making sure you were cool with hanging with Tim’s girlfriend and their adoptive sister Cass, Jason and Tim started a very competitive game of pool. You couldn’t help but look at things that cost more than you’ve ever even seen. The chess set Damian and his girlfriend were playing with probably cost more than your car.

But it was Christmas and you tried to push your insecurities aside. It was a fun evening. A glass of wine you kept sipping on helped as well.

After a while Bruce announced that the roads were too bad and that no one was leaving. Jason clenched his jaw for a second before looking at you and relaxing. He didn’t want to stay but he wasn’t risking your health in any way. Instead he focused on the game.

“So if I win,” Jason said a full hour later. By this time, Damian’s girlfriend had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Your eyes felt a little heavy as well. “I get the penthouse.”

“Sure Jay. That’s Bruce’s. But I’m willing to gamble it,” Tim said throwing his hands up at the ridiculousness.

“I accept terms,” Bruce said. Both boys looked at him surprised. “Whoever wins gets the penthouse.”

You turned quickly to watch the game. Okay, is that a normal thing for them? To bet property. The look on everyone’s face said that no it wasn’t normal.

Jason was excellent at pool. It was a common for you both to go down to the pool hall and play some games. Jason would occasionally make some money playing and he did often as a kid. It was also a way to waste time when your mom was throwing beers back like a fish, like Jason’s mother did. Tim didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t as good and looked almost like he was in pain occasionally. But maybe it wasn’t a real competition? Maybe Bruce was trying to give Jason something he’d always want to but didn’t know how. Jason easily won the game.

“So the penthouse is mine?” Jason asked. Bruce nodded and shrugged. Tim softly coughed in his hand. Your heart raced. They couldn’t be serious.

“If you’ll live in it,” Bruce said. Damian was carefully carrying his girlfriend upstairs.

“Deal,” Jason says quickly.

“Deal,” Bruce said looking quiet pleased. Was this his plan all along?

“I guess, deal?” Tim said confused. “Though you should owe me. You’re the one that got me shot.”

Your brain broke. He was shot? And it was Jason’s fault?

“What?! You got him shot?” Tim’s girlfriend asked loudly. Tim blanched.

“Not my fault.”

“Literally your fault,” Tim countered.

“What did you do?” You asked looking at him suspiciously. He offered you a sheepish smile.

“I might have said ‘what are you gonna do, shoot us?’ I meant me. Not Tim! He also has a bulletproof suit,” Jason said. Tim must be a vigilante too. You glared at Jason.

“That’s not in the report,” Bruce said with his eyes narrowing.

“Good night everybody. Merry Christmas,” Jason said pulling you from the room and up to his childhood room.

“You’re in so much trouble,” you said and he grinned.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow. How do you feel about a penthouse? Better than our current place hu?” Jason said pulling you close. You felt dizzy at the idea.

“Seriously? We can’t afford it,” you said trying to stay grounded. It was too good to be true. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you.

“I think I know a guy who can keep the lights on,” he joked and you gave him a serious look. “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the idea of constant hot water. Lights never going off,” Jason said pushing you towards the bed. “No one can hear me make you scream.”

“Tempting. Very tempting,” you said and of fucking course it was. A safe beautiful clean penthouse over your trashy scary apartment wasn’t even a contest. Jason pushed you on the bed and hovered over you.

“What are you doing,” you asked flushed but still encouraging him. It was still his dad’s house and he was getting handsy.

“Trying to have sex with my girlfriend on my old bed like every guy ever has dreamed of,” Jason said. He nipped at your throat. You gasped.

“Got to be quiet, Princess,” he whispered and you pulled him down to kiss more.

————————————

The next morning you woke to an empty bed. You fixed your hair as best you could and threw on Jason’s sweatshirt before going downstairs. You caught a glimpse of the kitchen as Bruce slowly slid a set of keys Jason’s way before taking a long drink from his coffee. “I’m glad you made home for Christmas this year, Jason.” The penthouse.

“Morning,” Bruce said to you nodding before leaving the room. Jason was alone in the kitchen but you could hear others in the breakfast nook a door over.

“Keys,” Jason said showing you. “And no lecture.”

You gave him a hug and looked at the shiny metal keys. It would be a while before you could handle the idea of a freaking penthouse being yours. “But you should get something for Tim. You did get him shot.”

“Let him shoot me?”

“Jason, no.”

[iwadori]

Can you write a pure angst, using 10 and 35 please ( Idc about the characters ) :)

Getting hurt with the haikyu boys part 3 (Iwaizumi)

Part one Part Two Part three

Word count: 2.8K

Genre: pure angst

Authors Note: I am sorry for just how shit it is lol. I had an idea and it kind of got worse as it went along but I hope you like it anyways.

You were pregnant.  

You wanted to cry.  

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant before you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

Iwaizumi first approached you at your job, some shitty dinner that only paid you enough so you can make ends meet. You could tell he had money, the way he dressed, his demeanor even the way he talked. ‘What was a man like this doing here?’ you thought.  

Apparently, he’s seen you around for a while, your city was small you’d only really leave this place if you had a fair god mother or died and of course you are clearly alive and don’t have a fairy god mother...until you met him.

He ordered a coffee, didn’t drink it though (probably knowing that your boss spat it in whenever he was in a bad mood or because he just needed an excuse to be around) just waiting for you to finish your break. You sat in a corner booth for ‘privacy,’ not that anybody was even in the place.  

“My names Iwaizumi Hajime” he said keeping a blank facial expression  

“What do you wan-”

“Miss L/N, I think I’ll do the talking here. Okay?” he said with a smirk appearing on his face after seeing your slightly shocked face when he revealed knowing your last name.

“I’ve seen you around for a while now, you’re beautiful you know that right?” he said making your cheeks heat up a bit. “Anyways, I think you’re gorgeous and a man like me needs a pretty girl like you on his arms. By the lack of response to my name, I assume you don’t know who I am...but I guess that works in my favour”

Your face is getting bored by the second not really listening as he rambles on about himself, “I need you to be on my arm every night that I go out to one of my boring business meetings.”  

“Business meetings?” you ask  

“You know, a bunch of ‘business’ people go out and talk ‘business’ together.” he said sarcastically as if you were stupid.

“I know that, I just thought you’d elaborate about it.” You sighed “What do I get out of this?”

“Finally, you’ve gotten to the interesting part, you my dear get money and lots of It” he says finally catching your attention “I’ll pay you 1 million Yen per night, and all your dresses, outfits and expenses will be paid for so you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about finances again” he ‘smiled’ at you.

“What's the catch?” squinting your eyes  

“The catch is just that you have to accompany me to all my events.... and you have to stay in my condo.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry dear, it’s a nice place” interrupting you “probably better than any shithole you live in”

“Fine, fine” his words were convincing you “Is there a contract you have for me to sign?” you ask wanting to at least be somewhat ‘protected.’

“No contract, just this verbal agreement. Between me and you right here right now.” he winked “so you’re in agreement of our arrangement?”

“Yes.”

That was your first mistake believing Iwaizumi Hajime.

Sure you could defend yourself now and say ‘I was poor and in need of help’ but you’d know it would just be you in denial talking.  

The first time you attended a meeting with Iwaizumi, you came home from quitting your job since Iwaizumi said ‘you’re on my payroll now.’ You found a beautiful red dress laying on your bed accompanied with shoes and accessories and note saying, ‘I trust you to be able to do your own hair and make up my dear – I.H’

You didn’t have any family, or any friends. Most people that have had even a single encounter with you have deemed you to be ‘Not Likeable’ saying you’re not a people person or just lack any sociability. You were stuck in this town because of the debt your father has left you in before he supposedly ‘passed’ away. Leaving you drowning in all his financial woes, meaning you couldn’t go to university or become a professional *insert dream job here* like you wanted to be.

When you exited your building, you saw Iwaizumi leaning against a flashy car parked outside. “You chariot awaits m’lady” he says with a cheeky grin on his face making you roll your eyes. You got in the car and he started driving, humming along to a random song slightly agitating you.

“So, when are you moving to my place? It’s a part of the agreement.” he said in a sing song voice in the tune of what he was humming.  

Iwaizumi reminded you of JD from heathers, he was nice when he wanted but he did have a screw loose that was triggered when things didn’t go his way. Like a small child who didn’t get the toy he wanted when he had a million other toys.  

Him being the child. You being the toy.

“Our agreement is bullshit, just verbal.” you say mockingly “remember?”

“don’t start with me Y/N I'm not in a pleasant mood today” he says gritting his teeth “and I don’t need you fucking with me tonight.”

He puts his hand on your thigh, a little too harshly making you internally wince. “Okay here’s the rules for the night. You stay on my side for the night, only speak when spoken too, don’t drink too much since no one likes an alcoholic of course.”

“Oh, so all I need to do is sit pretty like a good little girl.” you say sarcastically

“Precisely” he lessens the grip on your thigh making you breathe in relief.  

The event was boring to say the least, you did as Iwaizumi said stood next to him with a fake smile plastered on your face all through the night. You’re sure that people did ask you questions, but you were in your own little world only stepping out of it when Iwaizumi either pinched your arm or gripped your thigh.

The end of the night was ‘eventful’ to say the least, before you entered the car a hand wrapped around your waist and you were pulled into a back alley. “We couldn’t end the night so boring, could we?” it was Iwaizumi, of course it was.

He started peppering your neck with kisses and roaming his hands all over your body. He eventually trailed the kisses from your neck to your lips, leading you both into a full blown make out session. It was fast and you couldn’t really think straight. Iwaizumi was getting a bit too forceful, gripping and kissing harder than he needed to, leaving marks as if to say ‘you’re mine now.’

That was your second mistake. Getting sexual with Iwaizumi Hajime.

He said you had to go back to his house which was basically now yours. You complied, obviously had no other choice since he didn’t offer or ask. He told you too.

Waking up in the Iwaizumi residence was an ‘experience.’ Iwaizumi wanted you awake when he was awake and asleep when he was, never giving you a moment too yourself. You swiftly came to the learn of the reason why he wanted you in his ‘care’ (as he called it anyways) he wanted his eyes on you all the time.

You carried on attending the events bored out of your mind and the nights went the same way. Fancy dress, long car ride, not paying attention, getting fucked in the back alley then sleep in Iwaizumi’s expensive silk sheets.

You didn’t know much about Iwaizumi besides what you could find. In the day time, Iwaizumi spends it cooped up in his office whilst giving you the ‘permission’ to roam around the house. Iwaizumi kept all his important stuff in a small box under a creepy floorboard in his basement original idea I know. All the information in there was just stuff about generic stuff about his childhood. Him being brought up into wealth, how much he weighed as a baby and all the allergies and boring shit that he had.

Iwaizumi Hajime was an enigma.

You and Iwaizumi did get along. Sometimes. You did do things that weren’t strictly fucking and going to business meetings. He took you on what you could only be able to describe as dates, and outings showing you off to all his actual friends. That’s when you learnt the difference of the ‘two’ men, Iwaizumi and Hajime.

Although they were the same person by name, Iwaizumi was rough around the edges and cold at heart not caring about you at all. Hajime, whilst still being rough around the edges, basically made you out to be his girlfriend giving you the love and care you needed. You really liked the times when you were with Hajime.

That was your third mistake, falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

As things progressed, your quality of life seemed to dwindle (not that it was great in the first place.) Iwaizumi was barely in the house, claiming that for these particular ‘business meetings’ he didn’t need you.

On one night, a simple phone call definitely changed your whole dynamic.

“Yes babe, I’m coming over tomorrow I can’t wait to see you and the girls again.” he said to the other person on the phone.

“Why do you question my love for you, of course I love you.” he said again

“I love you, the girls even the dumb dog that Haru forced me to get for her 8th birthday I love. You guys are my family. My lovely wife and out girls”

Your stomach churned, you backed out of the hallway that you were in. He had a family, of course he had a family. You went into the guest room, where you kept all your things, you couldn’t do this anymore. Although you pretty much lost all your morals when you formed this whole agreement but you refuse to sleep with a married man with kids. You couldn’t. Being the reason why a family might break up is something you wouldn’t ever do.

Iwaizumi heard all your commotion and entered the guess “Woah darling who’s moving out?” he asked jokingly  

“Hmm probably your wife and kids, after they realise their husband is a CHEATER!” you spat

“Woah, woah Y/N” he said getting closer to you “You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about”

“I think I know pretty well; you’ve always been a pompous ass Iwaizumi; it was my bad for thinking that you weren’t married throughout all of this.” You finished packing up as much close as you possible can and headed out the room.

“You need to watch your mouth Y/N” he says aggressively  

“Or what Iwaizumi, or should I say Hajime” you shout “Or is that only reserved for your WIFE!”

This seem to really tick him off, “You don’t know anything Y/N, you really think I could love a dirty slut like you? Huh? Well, I didn’t know that you were important enough to be able to know the details of my personal life.”

“I'm not a slut” you mumbled. Which was completely true, Iwaizumi didn’t notice that the first time you slept together was the first time that you slept with anyone.

“repeat that again for me y/n?” he said mockingly

“IM NOT A SLUT!” you shout in his face

“You are what I say you are darling”

“Fuck you.” You try and push past him hard, to get out the house but you’re no match against his anger and brute strength. So, when he slams you against the wall, he banging your head. Leaving you concussed and bleeding. Before you completely pass out all you hear is a repetition of Iwaizumi Hajime murmuring “I'm sorry, I’m sorry” whilst wrapping his arms around your comatose body.

You woke up, thinking that was all a dream but the ache in the back of your head proved otherwise.  

“Y/N, darling your awake!” he said making you flinch

You moved away from him when he sat on your bed looking at you with ‘love’ and ‘care’ in his eyes. He goes to stroke your cheek whispering “you’re so be-”

“Fuck off” you say. That bang to the head was a wakeup call literally reminding you of all the hot and cold moments you had with Iwaizumi that you submerged into your head for the sole reason of ‘wanting to be happy.’ But you weren’t happy. Deep down you knew that.

“But y/n, darling I love you.” he said and you closed your eyes shut wanting to tune him out “I love you Y/N.”

“You don’t" you replied back harshly with your eyes still shut tightly

“But I do Y/N, I love you” he repeated the ‘I love you’s’ over and over making you want to scream out in frustation.

“Shut up!” you yelled “You don’t love me, stop saying that” your head throbbing with every word “Just stop. Make it stop! Kill me if you have to! Just make it stop” you say thumping at Iwaizumi’s chest becoming a hysterical crying mess. You weren’t talking about the physical paint he caused you (even though that hurt ALOT) you were talking about the constant heartache it was just being around him.

He didn’t know what to do. So, he just put his arms round you again and you yelled your frustrations about him to him into his chest.

You woke up into a new place, not your old one or Iwaizumis just something brand new.  

With a note on your bed side table saying:

‘I love you and I’m sorry’

Making you tear it up and toss it out.

You had no further contact with Iwaizumi, you figured that the new house you lived in was already paid for, but you didn’t want Iwaizumi to show up one day saying that you owed him money so you decided to get a job. A small one, that didn’t require any strenuous Labour or heavy shift times.

It was a few weeks after Iwaizumi left you and you felt sick and heartbroken. After finishing your shift at your job you felt hot headed and extremely ill making you run to your toilet to spill out your guts.

Which lead you to your predicament now.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.  

You wanted to cry.  

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant befonhre you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

You didn’t know what to do. There was only thing you could do, but you certainly didn’t want that. ‘Call him’ the voice in your head urged. ‘That would be the best option right?’ you thought ‘I mean he did love you afterall...’

It took a whole day of pacing around and wondering on what you should do. But you knew that leaving the situation longer would only make it worse. So you kept his business card on you when he gave it to you since that was the only phone number you had. He was all you actually had.

You called and the phone rang 4 times, your heart beating faster and faster as it rang.

“He-”

“Hello this is Sakura Iwaizumi speaking” a feminine voice said “Who is calling?” you hear someone say in the background. ‘Iwaizumi’ you thought, your face smiling. You realised you haven’t responded so you rushed out  

“I’m Y/N L/N, I need to speak with Iwaizumi.”

“Haji dear, there's a girl on the phone for you... someone of the name called Y/N L/N”

You heard muffles in the background and Iwaizumi saying “Just hang up the phone she’s not worth it.” Your heart stung ‘She’s not worth it.’ Did he really mean that? As much as you claim to hate him, you didn’t really. As you’ve said before you always liked his loving and caring side over his cold hearted one.

You put the phone down and just cried, wailing your heart out for him. Why? You don’t really know to be honest. This was all a dumb agreement, he used you because he was bored and he probably already knew you were pregnant from when he gave you that concussion. But ‘he doesn’t want you’ you reminded yourself because ‘I’m not worth it.’

AUTHORS NOTE: once again, i’m sorry lol. But im most likely going to do a part two of my ‘long shot’ series with Akaashi or a character of your choosing. 

[monochromemedic]

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency.  When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!”   The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.”  Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside.  The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?”  I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature.  “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley.  He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on  my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening  as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat.  Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black.  “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?”  “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous?  I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke.  “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime?  “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being  much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight.  “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

[mothandpidgeon]

Extra Credit (Professor!Dave York AU)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x F Reader

Words: 2865

Rating: VERY E 18+!

Warnings: student/teacher quid pro quo (safe to say this falls under DUB CON so please be careful!!!), spanking, humiliation/degradation, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, pussy slapping, biting/marking, p in v sex, Dave York

Summary: With graduation on the horizon, you just have to pass Professor Dave York’s class. But a bad choice on the final assignment leaves your grades in jeopardy. But he’s willing to give you extra credit if you can follow instructions.

a/n: First off, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU MIND THE WARNINGS. I did not see myself sharing this kind of stuff but I guess I'm freaky like that.

Second, I’m sorry this has the plot of a bad p*rno but sometimes it be like that. Thanks @pascalslittlebrat, @starlightmornings and @mouthymandalorian for encouraging this. It is filth. And thank you P for the gorgeous moodboard!!!!

Also, here is my assignment for the class. What subject do you think Professor York teaches? I was thinking Political Science. Would love to hear your ideas.

It was hot in the lecture hall, one of those early spring days when the weather decided winter was officially over. You had only a few more weeks until graduation and you were white knuckling to the end.

It had been a tough semester. You had your classes to deal with and your motivation was dipping. It wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d had to take on a full time job on top of your studies. Your shitty little car always seemed to be in the shop and your roommate had turned into a psychopath so you slept with one eye open.

Professor York’s class was the hardest you’d ever taken. You liked his style, his dry sense of humor as he lectured. But he was difficult to please. Most professors let their TAs do their the grading but not him. No matter how hard you worked on your papers, you couldn’t wrestle anything higher than a B- from Professor York.

The TA was handing back your papers, the last assignment for the semester, and he placed yours face down in front of you. There was no grade on it just red pen that spelled out see me after class in tight, neat handwriting. Fuck.

You looked up to see Professor York glowering at you from his spot at the front of the hall. You approached him as the other students filed out. You wished you could share their relief that this class was finally done but you had a knot in your stomach.

“Have a seat,” he said, taking the paper from you and tapping it in his palm.

There was a chair next to the professor’s desk and you sat down putting your bag beside you.

“Thanks, Tyler,” he said, dismissing the TA.

When the lecture hall was empty, Professor York sat behind the desk, eyes skimming your paper.

“I wanted to talk to you about this,” he said.

You nodded, too nervous to try speaking.

“This is some great work. This is the kind of essay that really sticks with you after you read it,” he said. His brown eyes were warm and soft and he sat forward in his chair.

You were dumbfounded, your anxiety quickly washing away.

“That’s probably how I know I already read this,” he said, his features suddenly darkening.

Your stomach plummeted into your feet. You were such an ass, thinking you could get away with it.

“I don’t tolerate plagiarism,” he told you.

With everything that had been going on this semester, you didn’t have it in you to complete this final assignment. It wasn’t like you were going to get a good grade anyway. You’d been so exhausted, you hardly cared if you got caught when you’d handed it in. But now that you had to face Professor York, you were kicking yourself.

“I find it highly disrespectful that you would try and pass this off as your work. You know you can be expelled for this?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’ve just had so much work to do-“

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he snapped.

You shut your mouth and felt tears bite at your eyes.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked in disgust. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“Professor, if I fail this class I’m not going to graduate. Please. I’ll do anything to just pass,” you said.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you said. The word sounded so definitive when it left your lips.

Professor York leaned back in his chair, swiping his finger across his lower lip in thought.

“I can give you extra credit but you have to do exactly what I tell you,” he said.

You were so relieved, you nodded breathlessly.

His lips curled into a smile.

“What color panties are you wearing?” He asked.

Your cheeks set on fire but heat also pooled between your legs. “I- what?” You managed.

“Show them to me,” he commanded.

Your whole body flushed and you stared at him, wide eyed. You had to be dreaming. You’d always found Professor York sexy with that grin and his deep voice but he wouldn’t- this wasn’t happening.

“Do you want extra credit or do you want me to give this paper to your advisor?” He asked, his tone suddenly harsh.

You swallowed hard. Why did his words send a shiver down your spine? You picked up the hem of your skirt and lifted it so Professor York could see between your legs. You looked away, blushing deeply.

He made a guttural noise that made you drop your skirt and clench your thighs together.

“Give them to me,” he said.

Your mouth hung open. He looked completely serious, blinking at you slowly as if this was a casual request. You bit down hard on your lip but finally you relented.

You squirmed out of your panties, being careful that you didn’t give him a show in the process, and placed them in his large, outstretched hand.

He put them to his nose, inhaled, and then squirreled them away in his back pocket, all the while watching you with amusement.

“Stand up. Put your hands on the desk,” he said.

You couldn’t move, sitting there with a gaping mouth. Finally he narrowed his eyes and you did as he said. You put your palms against the table top, aware of the vulnerable way you were leaned over. His eyes moved over your form and he wore the same self-satisfied expression that came when a student asked a stupid question.

Once he was finished admiring your obedience, he stood up and walked behind you. Your heart was pumping wildly as he stepped closer and you could smell his cologne, leather and tobacco.

“I‘ll pass you but I don’t want you thinking you’re getting off easy,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He chuckled and your breath caught. You felt him lift your skirt up, the fabric skimming over your bare ass, and you gasped. He didn’t touch you but he made a noise of approval that shot through you.

“I’m going to hit you five times,” he said into your ear. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded without even knowing you were doing it. What the fuck was happening? You were standing in the empty lecture hall, bent over, ass out, and desperate to graduate. You couldn’t believe Professor York’s audacity and yet you were going to let him spank you like you were a little girl. It wasn’t like you had a choice, you told yourself.

Before you could make sense of it, his hand connected with you and you let out a grunt. Were you getting wet? You definitely should not be enjoying this.

He hit you again and this time a moan escaped from you. You clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Hands on the desk,” he commanded.

You put it back down and another strike came against you. The sound of his punishment seemed to be echoing off the walls of the empty room.

He pulled your hips into him to steady you as he went on. You loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you firm.

When he was finished, you were nearly shaking, your pulse quick and your lips parted. You were still reeling not least of all due to the fact that you wanted more.

“Good girl,” Professor York purred smoothing his hand over the spot he’d turned red. His fingers dipped between your legs to feel the slick on your lips. “You’re not going to learn your lesson if you’re enjoying this.”

He came up right behind you so he could wrap his hand around your front and stroke at you. You were thankful your palms were braced against the desk because your knees nearly gave out.

“Professor,” you tried.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked, a hand gripping your hair.

“What if someone comes in?” Your voice shook.

“Then you’ll have to tell them why you’re failing my class,” he said and continued to play his fingers between your legs.

You whimpered. You could feel his hard length through his pants pressed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your head spun. You knew how fucked up this was but you didn’t want it to end. Professor York’s fingers circled you expertly and you felt like you were melting in his hands. You forgot everything— the circumstances that lead you to this moment, that this was your teacher, that you were exposed in public. Nothing existed except for your pleasure building and building.

As the sensation mounted in you, you began to buck against his hand.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Good,” he replied and suddenly, his hand was gone.

You cried out in desperation. You clenched at nothing, left at the precipice with no relief. You were throbbing almost painfully. Professor York caught your chin in one of his hands, squeezing your face and wrenching your head around to look at him.

“Do you deserve to cum?” he asked.

You thought you might actually cry between your need for his touch and the fear his voice instilled in you.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No,” he confirmed.

He loosened his grip on you and, for the briefest moment that softness returned to his eyes. You looked at him, eyes glassy and practically drooling, wishing he would touch you again.

“Needy girl,” he chided. “On your knees.”

He pulled you to your feet by the back of your skirt and you got down, bare knees and shins on the tile floor. You gazed up at him, still a little nervous, still pulsing between your thighs.

Professor York undid a few of the buttons of your shirt and skimmed his knuckle across your breast with a hum.

“Maybe I should take this too. Matching set,” he said. He snapped your bra strap which made you jump. “Off.”

He palmed the bulge in his pants as he watched you remove your shirt and unhook your bra. He squeezed one of your tits and pinched your pebbled nipple until you flinched.

“You want to pass?” he asked you, repeating the motion on the other side.

You nodded and he arched an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you said.

“You want to please me?” Now his hand ran gently along your jawline.

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d been trying all this time, studying hard, staying up all night to perfect your papers. Now you had a new goal in mind though you were afraid it was just as unattainable.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed and when you did he spit into it. “Don’t swallow that.”

You stayed like that, with your mouth open as he released himself from his pants. There was a dark patch on his boxer briefs stained by precum. You watched him wildly as he pulled at himself and a glistening bead appeared at his tip. Saliva, yours or his, was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, dripping on your hard nipples.

“Don’t you look pretty. I hope you can suck cock better than you write papers,” he mocked.

For some reason this was what made your eyes pop. You asked yourself if you were really going to suck off your professor for a good grade. As if you hadn’t just handed him your panties. As if you hadn’t just let him smack your ass. As if your thighs weren’t drenched with your own slick.

He approached you, still stroking himself and you were jealous. You wanted that friction on yourself, were dying for more.

You didn’t have to be told what to do. You wrapped your wet lips around his thick length and your tongue swirled around him.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded.

You looked up at him, and grasped his shaft in your hand as you sunk your mouth around him as far as you could go. Your saliva dripped down his cock pooling in your fist.

“Fuck,” he said.

That word excited you. You kept going, watching him try to keep his eyes open as you surrounded him. The noise of your lips on him was almost disgusting, wet and squelching, and yet it was driving you insane. You clenched your core for some kind of relief that wouldn’t come.

He thrust deeper into your mouth and you tried to take him in but gagged. You pulled away, his cock bouncing out of your mouth and you coughed.

“Good girl,” he said. “Look at you trying to earn that extra credit.”

Tears stung in your eyes as you tried to recover.

“You still want to cum?” he asked, one hand pumping himself slowly.

You nodded timidly. More than anything in the fucking world. But you didn’t want to seem too eager, aware that he was ready at any moment to rescind the offer.

“Sit on the desk,” he said and you did. “Greedy little brat.”

Professor York slid your skirt up your thighs and that sensation alone felt erotic. He inserted two fingers into your mouth and you sucked them hungrily while he grinned.

He slid them across your folds and you were already so sensitive your back arched. He surprised you by getting down on his knees, opening your legs and throwing your thighs over his shoulders. You leaned back on your hands, laid out across the desk, fully on display.

You heard a noise in the hallway and gasped, your head snapping towards the door. But your attention was immediately drawn back to Professor York when you felt him smack you between the legs.

“Do you want to cum or not?”

“Please,” you begged.

He gave you a dark smile and then began nipping at the inside of your thighs. When he got closer to your center, he bit and sucked hard. You let out a breath, a mix of pleasure and pain.

“When you think about this later, I want you to touch yourself and look at this,” he said, swiping the pad of his thumb over the welt he’d just left there.

You let out a shuddering breath and he began to nibble at your clit between his lips. When your hand automatically shot into his hair, he grabbed you by the wrist and removed it, holding your palm against the desk. His tongue lavished you, churning you into a frenzy, and it didn’t take long before you were back where you’d been before. You were panting and grinding your hips into him.

This time he let you hit your high and you trembled and thrashed as he worked at you. It felt like you’d been wiped out by a wave, not being able to sense up from down. You were mewling and shaking when you finally begged him to stop, overwhelmed and cloyed.

He stood and wiped you from his chin and then said, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nodded frantically. He pushed into you and you were sure he could feel you still fluttering around him. You were wetter than you could ever remember but still he was difficult for you to take and you inhaled sharply. He didn’t seem to care, snapping his hips into you and grunting, one hand balling your skirt in his fist against you. Soon, though, you were lost in the sensation of his thrusts.

You didn’t even realize that you were whining loudly as he fucked you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Professor York took your panties from his pocket and shoved them in your mouth to stifle your cries.

“You’re going to have to quiet down,” he rasped.

You whimpered against the fabric in your mouth and he smiled wickedly. He put his hand around the back of your neck to draw you in closer and he pressed into you faster and faster. He pulled out and you heard your own muffled moan at the loss of him. He worked at himself, spilling over your thigh and on your skirt with a groan.

Both of you took a moment to catch your breath and you watched as the professor leaned over you on his hands, swallowed, and then stood up, as composed as ever. He laughed quietly to himself as he took the panties out of your mouth and smoothed his hair.

“Put your clothes on. I have another class to get to,” he said, handing you a handkerchief and zipping himself up. He slid your panties back in his pocket.

You felt shaky on your feet after you’d mopped up his spend. You got dressed wondering how you were going to get through the rest of the day commando, with a ruined skirt, and the remnants of your professor’s cum drying onto your skin. He didn’t say anything else. You hooked your bag over your shoulder and Professor York looked you up and down one last time. He handed you back your essay. It was soaked through down the middle and you realized you’d been sitting on it on the desk. At the top was a new note in red pen: see me after graduation and his phone number.

You got an A.

-----

tagging some folks: @pascalslittlebrat @mouthymandalorian @starlightmornings @purplepascal042 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @tuskens-mando @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @goddessinwolfskin @stevie75 @yespolkadotkitty @danniburgh @221bshrlocked

[bungeenomin]

COMPETITION- KIM DOYOUNG

genre: e2l doyoung x reader 

word count: 5.2k

summary: your entire life, your neighbour has been nothing but competition. from as soon as you had the ability to form an opinion on people, it was engrained in you to hate kim doyoung. but can you still hate him when you reunite as adults after getting hired under by same company? is he still competition?

warning: oral (m+f receiving), dirty talk, sex

a/n: feel free to send me requests, asks and leave feedback!

main masterlist

from when you were a kid, you were taught to hate the kim family. ironically, both your parents and mr and ms kim pretended to like each other. they acted like they didn’t completely despise one another, but they knew they did, everyone did. the feud was so petty, you’ll admit. your families constantly competing with who was the richest, who had the nicest car, who had the better education, who’s children were more talented. no matter how petty you knew the feud was, it was ingrained in you to hate kim doyoung with all your being, and that’s exactly what you did.

when your parents and the kim’s pretended to get on, you and doyoung never dared speak to each other. in both of your eyes, you were just competition, feeding into your parents on going feud. as you sat glaring at each other at dinner meals, your parents would brag back and forth about how amazing their dear children are, constantly trying to one up each other and get the last word.

you didn’t hate anyone, you thought hating was harsh. but kim doyoung was different. you had deep, deep hatred for him. your only conversations were cold, offensive, hateful. he was an obstacle in the way of your success from the day you were born until the day you moved away for college. he was nothing but competition.

December 5th 2020

“good look today my love” your mother beams through the phone, full of pride. it’s your first day at your new job, an extremely well paid job, a job to make your parents proud of you. 

“thank you mom but i have to go now, being late on the first day wouldn’t leave a very good impression” you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you. “i’ll fill you in later mom, okay?”

“yes, yes of course!” your mother enthusiastically responds. “your father and i are so proud of you, talk to you later”

you sigh, locking your phone. you love your parents, you really do, but sometimes they can be intense. too intense. in their minds, everything has to be perfect first try. according to them, successful people leave no room for errors. they leave no one pass their level of success. they get distracted by no one, keep their eye on the prize. 

the building is exactly the same as you remember it from your interview, extremely large, but not too difficult to find your way around, signs and directions places frequently throughout the building. “hello, my name is y/n, i start working here today” you confidently tell the receptionist. 

“ah yes” she responds, “one of mr lee’s new recruits”. one of? clearly multiple people were taken on at once, not that it’ll be a problem to you. “follow me, i’ll lead you to where the rest are waiting” she smiles softly, walking you down a corridor and into a waiting room. “mr lee will be with you shortly!” 

there are four or five people in the room, you assume all starting work today, but your eyes lock on one person. kim doyoung. after what, five, six years? he looks the exact same, slightly better skin with more prominent facial features. he wears a slick black suit. classic. he can’t help the cold chuckle that leaves his lips the second his eyes land on you, eyeing you up and down in the process, judgementally. the last thing you expected was to see him here. after all the years you spent competing with him, you never thought that you would be back at it again after college.

“long time no see” he mutters. 

you roll your eyes, “yeah, pity, i finally erased your ugly face and shitty attitude from my memory and now i’ll have to start all over again” 

doyoung chuckles leaning closer to you, “ouch, i’m hurt. well now you have plenty of time to watch me beat you, like i always have done”

“you fucking wi-”

“hello everyone, nice to meet you all as employees and not applicants this time. as i’m sure you’re aware, i am the ceo of this company. i take great pride in my company and only hire the best of the best, people who i know will aid my companies success”

“shame he hired you then” doyoung whispers. 

“now, i am a busy man, but that does not mean i won’t see if people are slacking. If you are slacking, you get one warning. If you continue to not put in one hundred percent, you’re fired. it’s as simple as that. i will constantly be able to view your work, so i expect everyone’s full effort. i believe i pay you very well for your job, so expect it to be done well. anyway, with that being said, welcome to the company! i hope we can all do great work together” 

as soon as mr lee finishes his introductory speech, you are brought to your offices. it is one big room but fortunately, there are walls between each desk, allowing for privacy to work. you notice there is someone in between you and doyoung, which you are eternally grateful for, you really don’t know how you would be able to work to the best of your ability knowing he’s beside you. 

it doesn’t take you long to get stuck into your work load. quickly setting up your desk to your liking and turning on your computer. honestly, the morning goes really fast. with the work load you have, you’re constantly busy. what distracts you slightly is when you see a familiar face walk to mr lee’s desk, handing him a stack of papers he was working on, ready for mr lee to read. “thank you doyoung, i appreciate your hard work already”. with that doyoung turns to go back to his desk, not before looking your way and sending you a sarcastic smile. fucking idiot. 

by the time lunch rolls around, you’re just excited to try the food that is served in the cafeteria, everything looking and smelling delicious, leaving your mouth watering. once you get your food, you sigh in defeat as you look around for a table to sit at, only to be left disappointed when you see they’re all full. your eyes slowly pan the cafeteria, looking for anywhere you can possibly sit, until your eyes land on a free seat, beside the one and only, kim doyoung, who’s sat quietly on his phone as he eats his lunch. him working here is going to be more hard than you thought. 

“can i sit here?” you question. 

“gosh y/n, looks like you’re a little obsessed with me huh?” doyoung replies, a smug look on his face. 

“you fucking wish. i wouldn’t come near you unless it was absolutely necessary, which unfortunately, it is. there’s no other seats” 

“whatever” doyoung rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone as you take your seat. arrogant prick. 

“so” doyoung speaks up amid the awkward silence, “how has little y/n been?”. to anyone else, they would think he was being nice, but you know he’s just nosy. prying into your business as usual. 

“i’ve been great. i graduated top of my year in university, got to travel a lot. all good things” you reply, a smug expression on your face. 

“you know y/n you should really get the stick out of your ass, it’s very unprofessional” doyoung replies, him now wearing a smug expression as yours drops. 

“oh fuck you doyoung”

“i’m sure you’d love to sweetheart” 

the rest of the day went relatively fast, without any more encounters with doyoung, thankfully. before you know it, you’re back in the comfort of your own apartment, relaxing with a glass of wine. you’ve already informed your parents about your first day, causing them to almost burst with pride. what throws them off slightly is the mention of doyoung. ‘don’t mind him’ you mother advised. ‘don’t let him get in your way’ your father informed. not that you intended to take notice of him, certainly not intending on letting him get in your way. 

December 14th 2020

working with doyoung is proving to be a lot harder than it seems. he’s very, in your face. always chiming in with his opinion and what he thinks is right. his presence alone gets on your nerves, let alone when he opens his mouth. to everyone else, he seems like a great, hardworking guy, but to you, he’s just in your way. a headache. an inconvenience. 

“doyoung these files are for you” you sigh standing at doyoung’s desk with your hand extended. 

doyoung looks up from his desk, taking the files from your hand and flicking through them. “no they aren’t” he nonchalantly responds, handing them back to you. 

“doyoung why the fuck would i lie about something so stupid?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “these are for you”

doyoung sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “how do i know you’re not just loading your work onto me, hmm?”

“fucking hell doyoung why are you the most difficult person in the world? jesus. they’re yours. take them, if you don’t do them, it’s you falling behind, not me” you groan, once again extending your arm out with the files that doyoung insists don’t belong to him. as doyoung takes the files from you, your hands brush off each other swiftly, but it’s enough to make your cheeks turn pink to your dismay. 

doyoung chuckles slightly at your reaction to such a small touch. “are you okay?” doyoung questions, playing innocent. 

“of course i am” you respond sharply. 

“whatever you say darling” doyoung chuckles turning his attention back to his computer, leaving you standing there with your mouth hanging at his words. “it’s rude to stare y/n, am i that attractive to you?” doyoung asks, completely focused on his computer screen. 

“fuck off” you mumble before storming back to your office. that’s the thing about doyoung. he’s cocky. too cocky. always thinking he’s better than everyone, above everyone. thinks he’s beautiful. he makes you sick. 

doyoung doesn’t mean to stare. he honestly doesn’t. he catches himself doing it quite often though. the coffee machine is placed in perfect eye line of your desk. it just so happens that doyoung spends a lot of time at the coffee machine. he convinces himself that he looks in anger. you stress him out after all. you’re his enemy. his competition. he never gets caught staring at you, well, until now. “it’s rude to stare kim!” you shout at him from your seat when your eyes meet his, only earning an eye roll from doyoung. you giggle lightly at his reaction. you’ve always loved getting under his skin. 

December 19th 2020

you honestly thought your day was going great. there was very little traffic, no line at the coffee machine, you were way ahead on your work. That was until your boss entered your office, asking specifically that you and doyoung stay back a few hours to get through some work with him. of course, this is your worst nightmare, but who are you to turn down your boss?

“just wait inside my office” mr lee announces to the two of you, “i’ll be back in a few minutes i just have a quick phone call to take”.

the silence between both you and doyoung is severe as you sit in the two seats across from mr lee’s. you try think of something to say, literally anything, to break the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything. reflecting now, you and doyoung have ever had a casual civil conversation.

“doyoung can we just- can we just cut the shit for this?” doyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “we’re doing this with our boss, and the snappy comments and awkwardness is just gonna look bad, so can we just pretend we don’t hate each other for this”

“fine” doyoung snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing straight ahead, you doing the same. once again, the silence is deafening. it’s been a significant length of time since your boss left now, probably getting caught up on the call. “remember that year our families went to the lake together?”

you look across at doyoung, thrown back by his sudden conversation starter. “of course i do, it was a fucking disaster” you chuckle lightly, thinking back on the events.

“the literal worst” doyoung responds. “it felt more like family bootcamp than a break”. it really did. both of your dads spent the whole trip trying to one up each other, making sure their family was presenting themselves as best as they could the entire time. It was intense. 

“no, the worst was when our dads kept trying to one up each other on the jet ski’s” you giggle, “they literally just embarrassed each other”. at the time, you hated the trip. you felt tense the whole time, on edge. looking back now, you can’t help but to laugh at the mayhem. 

“they really did” doyoung cringes, remembering how hard his dad tried to show off his ‘jet ski skills’ when in reality, he was a complete amateur, just like your dad. 

“we beat you in the family tennis tournament though” you tease, remembering how happy you were with the victory. 

“oh whatever, as if i was gonna go hard on a girl. i’m way better than you” doyoung scoffs. 

“oh my god, remember when our dads decided to make a barbecue together!” you laugh loudly, your eyes welling with tears. 

“stop that was so bad” doyoung chuckles, “we just ended up with way too much food and they burned half of it”

once you both calm down from your fit of laughter. there’s a weird atmosphere. everything feels lighter. you and doyoung sit there for a minute, just staring at each other with silly smiles on your face. “i still fucking hate you”

“thank fuck for that” doyoung replies, rolling his eyes once again, playfully this time.

“i’m so sorry!” mr lee announces as he barges into the office. “i’ve kept you here for over an hour without doing anything. look, just go home for tonight i’m so sorry” the older man sighs.

you and doyoung ensure him it’s okay, before getting up and leaving, going your separate ways into the old december night. 

December 24th 2020

the usual christmas eve agenda didn’t even cross your mind when you started your new job. of course, your christmas eve will be spent in doyoung’s families house. this was typical of your families at christmas, the host house alternating every year. 

“merry christmas!” ms kim greets at the door, allowing you enter into her home. “go to doyoung sweetie, he’ll get you a drink” she suggests, extending her arm to the living room, where sure enough, doyoung was. 

doyoung’s eyes devour your figure as you stand in front of him. your dress hugging your figure beautifully, showing you off in all the right places. “your mom told you to get me a drink” you say, an eyebrow raised. 

“wine?”

“red”

soon after you giving your order and taking a seat on the now empty couch, doyoung returns, two glasses of red wine in his hand, taking a seat beside you. “don’t you want to go into the dining room with everyone else?” 

“do you really want to listen to them more than you have to?” doyoung questions, earning a giggle from you as you sip on the expensive wine.

“absolutely not” you reply, getting comfortable on the couch, facing doyoung slightly. “are you going to the new years party in work?” 

“mhmm. it’ll be nice. it also would leave a bad impression on the boss if i didn’t show” doyoung replies sipping on his wine. things are weird between you two since the day in mr lee’s office. it’s like something switched inside the two of you. maybe it’s because you’re speaking as adults now, not children. maybe it’s because you’re both independent of your parents. for whatever reason, you can’t find the same hatred you had for doyoung previously. “are you going?” 

“mhmm” 

“will you look as beautiful as you do now?” doyoung questions, tilting his head slightly sideways. 

“w-what?” 

doyoung leans in, so close to your lips, eyes stuck on them. you close your eyes, thinking doyoung was about to close the gap between, but instead he whispers in your ear, “maybe you’ll get a midnight kiss”

“doyoung, y/n dinner come on!”  

doyoung stands up, a smug smirk on his lips as he extends a hand to help you up. 

“You’re insatiable Kim Doyoung”

December 31st 2020 

the work new years eve party is going much better than you thought it would. everyone mingling, getting to know each other more than just ‘the person in the office beside me’. everyone is currently sat on the rooftop of the building, a cozy little set up. the addition of alcohol in the coworkers interactions allows them to feel a lot more casual and at easy with each other. 

“everyone it’s just time! come on” someone shouts from beside the large projector mr lee had brought up for the countdown. everyone rises from their seats, glasses of champagne in their hands as they walk towards the projector. 

“ten”

“nine”

“eight”

“seven”

“six”

“five”

you feel an arm sling around you wait. looking up your eyes meet doyoung’s.

“four”

“three”

your heart is pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to finishing the countdown, doyoung’s eyes remain glued on yours, like no one else is present.

“two”

you place a hand gentle on his upper chest.

“one”

“happy new year” doyoung whispers.

“happy new year”. before you can even process the celebratory screams and shouts around you, you feel a soft pair of lips against your own.

the kiss is so soft, delicate, lips gently placed together. you pull back slightly, looking up at doyoung, who rubs soft circles on your waist. you pull doyoung closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the body on body contact driving you wild. The kiss this time is harsher, needier, more desperate, your lips moving passionately against each other with such ease.

reality hits doyoung, remembering you are surrounded by colleges. he pulls back and whispers in your ear, “let’s get out of here baby, hmm?”

your back is against doyoung’s door the second you both make it into his apartment, doyoung’s lips attacking your neck, peppering it in kisses, sucking large marks all over. “mmh doyoung” you moan, tilting your head to the side, allowing the man have more access.

“jump” doyoung mumbles against your neck, tapping your thighs lightly as an indication, to which you comply. you jump, wrapping your legs around doyoung’s waist, him holding your legs up with his arms, his hands resting on your ass squeezing it as he begins bringing you to his room. “gonna fuck you so good” doyoung announces, nipping on your neck.

doyoung lays you on your back, him on top of you, not once detaching his lips from your neck. your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, signalling for doyoung to remove the garment. doyoung complies, pulling back to unbutton his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room. “your dress is so pretty baby, but i think it’ll look prettier on the floor” and with that, doyoung removes your beautiful red dress, allowing it to move to the floor, leaving you in your red lace lingerie. “fuck baby, you look so good for me” doyoung praises, already working on unclasping your bra.

the second your breasts are free from the confines of your bra, doyoung’s lips are on your right nipple, sucking on it harshly, flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub, leaving you a moaning mess. doyoung doesn’t neglect your other boob, messaging it with his large hand, pinching and twirling your nipple between two fingers. “fuck doyoung” you moan, grappling onto his hair, a small groan escaping doyoung’s lips in response, the vibrations against your nipple driving you wild.

doyoung trails kisses all the way down your stomach, making sure to leave his mark on the way. “you want me so bad huh? you’re a moaning mess for me already baby” doyoung smirks against your skin. 

“doyoung, i’m supposed to fucking hate you” you moan out as doyoung starts kissing along the lining of your soaking wet panties. 

“baby, we both know we’re passed that point now” doyoung chuckles as he pulls down your destroyed panties, proud of the mess he caused as he see’s your glistening folds, your juices starting to drip down your thigh. 

doyoung places open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking in all of you. worshiping every inch of your body, the whimpers escaping your throat being music to his ears. “mmh fuck doyoung” you moan as doyoung licks a stripe up your dripping folds, collecting your juices on his tongue. 

“taste so good baby” doyoung groans, dragging two fingers up your folds and bringing them to your mouth letting you taste yourself, airy whines leaving your lips as you suck on his slender fingers. “gonna make you feel so good” 

with no warning, doyoung shoved two fingers into your tight hole, a scream escaping your lips as he does so. “f-fuck doyoung faster” you moan, grabbing the bed sheets tightly. doyoung listens, picking up his pace, fucking your dripping core with his fingers faster than you can even process.

the room is filled with your load moans, your legs shaking as doyoung’s pace gets faster and faster. doyoung smirks at you before bending down and attaching his lips to your clit, gaining a scream from you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “doyoung i’m gonna cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto his hair tightly.

doyoung moans against your clit, sending you over the edge. doyoung’s fingers and mouth don’t stop as you reach your high, continuining to move the whole way through and continuing after, sending your body into shock. “fuck doyoung i came already stop” you moan, causing doyoung to finally let you calm down, stopping his actions and looking at you with a proud look on his face.

doyoung meets your lips again, placing a chaste kiss on them before whispering in your ear, “you haven’t even taken my dick yet angel”. you look at him with doe eyes, as you feel his hard dick through his pants rub against your stomach.

“are you gonna take me like a good girl, hm?” doyoung questions, tucking your hair behind your ear. you respond with a nod but that’s not enough for doyoung. “words angel. use them”

“yes doyoung”

“good girl” he smiles, placing another quick peck on your lips before leaning back to remove his now very tight suit pants and boxers, allowing his hard dick to slap against his stomach, earning a small whimper from you.

“sit up for me baby” doyoung smiles, extending a hand for you to take, helping you sit up. “knees angel”

you comply to doyoung’s request, getting on your knees for him, now eye level with his hard length. doyoung pumps himself twice before tapping his length against your lips, giving you the hint to open for him, which you do.

you wrap your mouth around his leaking tip, collecting his precum on your tongue, earning a groan from doyoung. you move your lips to the base of his length, dragging your tongue all the way back to the top from the bottom, following the vein the goes the whole way up. “stop teasing fuck” doyoung grunts, grabbing a fist full of your hair. “suck”

you once again wrap your mouth around his tip, but before you could move by yourself, doyoung shoves your head down his entire length, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. “pretty” doyoung smirks, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as you look up at him as he fucks your throat. moans and groans spill out of doyoung’s lips as your tongue works wonders on his hard length. a moan escapes your lips, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “enough”doyoung groans, pulling your head off of him, “i’m not cumming until i fuck you baby”

doyoung effortlessly lifts you up, laying you down in the middle of his king sized bed. “do i need a con-”

“no!” you reply sharply. “no i’m on birth control. you don’t need one” you blush at your quick response.

“fuck you’re perfect” doyoung groans, attaching your lips together for the umpteenth time tonight. you’ve had your fair share of kisses, but none of them feel like doyoung’s. his lips feel like they’re made for you. your mouths move in perfect synchronisation, making you feel so whole, so excited.

you moan against doyoung’s lips as you feel his dick against your wet folds. “doyoung please i need you” you whine against his lips, earning a smirk from doyoung.

“so desperate for me angel” he teases. “how badly do you need me?” he questions, teasing you more by just sticking the head of his length in you.

“mmh fuck so bad doyoung i need you so bad, please” you plead, eyes wide showing your desperation.

“good girl” doyoung kisses you softy before moving his hips slowly, moving inside you inch by inch until he bottoms out, both of you whimpering at the feeling. “ready?”

“yes please move” you whimper underneath him.

doyoung wastes no time in grinding his hips in and out of you, fucking you at a fast pace. “you look so pretty angel” doyoung praises, “i love how fucked out you look for me”

“f-fuck doyoung” you moan as he picks his pace up again, you grabbing onto his forearms. “fucking me so good mmh”

doyoung throws back his head in pleasure, your words making him harder and harder, snapping his hips more harshly into you. “you’re so tight for me angel. such a good girl. you make me feel so good angel. all those pretty moans”

doyoung’s praises earn a loud moan from you, digging your nails into his back. you feel doyoung twitch inside you, he’s close. “my good girl. you’re mine angel aren’t you?”

“mmh yes doyoung fuck, just yours, no one else”

doyoung brings his hand to your clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves rapidly as a string of moans escape your lips. “cum with me baby yeah?”

“mmh yes fuck” you moan loudly as you both reach your highs. loud moans from both of you bounce off the walls at your euphoric feeling. “fuck” you whisper as doyoung pulls out of you carefully, his cum dripping out of your hole.

doyoung throws himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face in gentle kisses. “my good girl. you did so good for me baby, so so good” he praises, moving your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you cleaned up my love, okay? i’ll be back in a second” he says, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead and walking to the bathroom. 

doyoung returns a minute later with a wet wash cloth, sitting in between your legs. “i’ll try be gentle angel” doyoung warns, earning an appreciative smile from you. 

“Ah sore, sore, sore” you complain as doyoung meddles at your sensitive area. 

doyoung pouts seeing your pain. “sorry baby, i’m done now”. doyoung throws the wash cloth in his laundry basket before climbing back into bed with you, something he hopes he can get used to doing. he pulls you close against his chest and plays with your hair, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t hold you tight. 

“doyoung?” you question, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“yes baby?”

“why did we spend so long hating each other” you frown. 

“well when we were kids, it was inevitable. but when i became a teenager, it was easier to still hate you than to admit my feelings for you” doyoung shrugs. 

“huh?” you reply confused. he liked you then?

“i liked you a lot when we were teenagers silly” doyoung chuckles. “you’re beautiful, you always have been, you can’t blame me!”

“so you were mean to me because you liked me” you scoffed playfully. 

“exactly” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“you know y/n” doyoung speaks, “when i liked you back then, i knew we wouldn’t get together while still living at home. i knew we were both too stubborn, and our parents would be too difficult. but i told myself that i’d wait for you. that in the future, we’d meet again and you’d be mine. now, i have you, and it was so worth the wait. 

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. the kim doyoung who caused you all that struggle and strife, has been waiting to call you his. wants to love you. wants to be there for you. “bold of you to assume i want to be yours” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“well do you want to leave me?” he responds with an amused raised eyebrow. 

“never” you whisper, connecting your lips once again, your new favourite hobby. 

January 1st 2021

you had the best sleep of your life last night, in the arms of the one you love. you had the best morning of your life, waking up to cuddles, kisses, breakfast, coffee. it was nice having breakfast with him, the small talk and jokes, it just felt so domestic. so normal. so right. 

“babe, they’re going to be staring at my neck” you pout, as doyoung takes the keys out of the ignition as you pull up outside your workplace. 

“good” doyoung smirks, “they need to know you’re mine”. with a quick kiss on the lips, you’re both out of the car, walking towards the company building. 

walking in to your work hand and hand with doyoung, your neck littered in hickeys from him feels so right. you’re proud to be his. proud to let everyone know. you get some looks from coworkers as you walk through the building, but you couldn’t care less. he’s yours. 

“i’ll see you at lunch angel” doyoung smiles, leaning up against your office wall. 

“that’s if you can resist me for the long” you giggle. 

doyoung rolls his eyes playfully, “brat”  

never in a million years would you have believed you would end up loving kim doyoung. up until two months ago, he was nothing but competition to you. an obstacle to you. now, you want to be with him all the time. you love seeing his head sticking around the corner of your office when he’s at the coffee machine. you love hearing him talk. you love seeing him thrive at his job, no longer seeing him as competition. after all these years, you and doyoung are on the same team. your own team, not your parents. telling your parents about your relationship will probably be, a lot, but you’ll go through whatever it takes for kim doyoung. now you have him, you’re never letting go. 

———————————————————————

@bubudays @uhyikesbro @whoe-dis @nctxtrash @junglewoos @ajhdr @obligatoryidolblog

[simsadventures]

Panopticon: Chapter 27: War Path

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: Steve is livid and tries to find you but somebody keeps putting obstacles in his way. You, on the other hand, get to meet the devils and learn some harsh truths.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst, abduction, slight mentions of torture, life in captivity, lying, swearing, mentions of violence against women, shitty people in general, loads of feels, I would hope, mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 3800

A/N: Du dun… Who is ready for some angst? Many of you weren’t happy that we’re taking this route, but it needed to happen because the world is full of assholes who try to make people unhappy. Anyway, so excited about this one, and I can’t wait for you to tell me what you thought. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

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“That won’t help to find my Omega, so no!” Steve yelled across the whole room, and even the experienced Alpha fighters gathered in the room couldn’t help but shudder at Steve’s authoritative voice. They were trying to help, coming up with new ideas to try and bring the Circle down, or at least make somebody from the inside communicate with them to tell Steve and his team the location of his Omega. But no idea was good enough for Steve. 

It had been four days. Four days without his precious Omega, and Steve felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He desperately needed you next to him, just to feel your warm, soft skin pressed against his, or to see the light in your eyes whenever you looked at him. But he had nothing. 

He often saw broken Alphas after all that went down on Earth a few years ago, and while he couldn’t really imagine what they must have been feeling at that time, walking like dead men, some of them on the brink of death because they just couldn’t handle their lives without their loved ones, Steve understood it all now. 

He knew he had to concentrate because he felt you in his veins, felt that you were alright considering the circumstances and, most importantly, that you were still alive. That was the sole reason why he didn’t end it yet. But he was hanging on a thread because each day and night he had to spend without you, his mind was going just a little more insane. He was hearing your voice and this morning, he even saw you standing by the bed. He was elated, but when he blinked a few more times, he realised that it was his brain playing tricks on him and that none of what had happened was just a nightmare. 

Moreover, he had to orchestrate a funeral for Peter and Gamora. The sadness over their loss was embedded deep in Steve’s soul, and he knew he would never get over it, even if he got you back. When he got you back, he scolded himself every time he thought of it, but it was to no avail. The desperation and pain seeped deep into his bones, and the once positive Alpha, who used to be full of life was just a walking shell of numbness. 

Sam and Bucky tried to pick up the mood in the room now and then, but they knew all too well that there was nothing they could say or do to make the situation better. The only thing Steve really needed was to get you back, and they empathised with him. Moments after the realisation hit them that you were indeed gone, they rushed to their own huts to check on their own mates. Their bonds felt fine, but the fucked-up situation got into their heads, and they needed to see their loves for themselves. Both Meera and Tina were sitting comfortably in their houses, unaware of the terror going on just mere meters away from them. They all spent the afternoon scenting and crying, their hearts clenching for their friend who was lost in his thoughts and his pain. 

But Steve tried to come up with a solution. He knew Rumlow would take you somewhere far, but not far enough not to brag about it. The circle was almost a day drive so Steve would have bet Rumlow’s hiding place was somewhere between his own house and the hell house they called the Omega haven. But that was still too much land to cover just by foot or by car, since there were so many abandoned houses and warehouses, not even talking about all the hidden places deep in the forests. So, just going somewhere blindly was not an option. 

Then, he thought of using what was left of the functioning camera system between the city and his lands, trying to see if he could pinpoint at least the direction where Rumlow and his team went. But he came up with nothing since most of the cameras had been destroyed soon after the war had started. 

Steve even thought of taking some military dogs and making them sniff your clothes to find you, but that would mean hundreds of kilometres to search, and that was just impossible. Every single thing Steve came up with was a nonsense, and the longer he couldn’t figure out how to find you, the more desperate and angry he had become. His people knew it was nothing personal, but his yelling and blaming was sometimes too difficult to bear for any of them. Steve knew he was being a dick, and he apologised every time his nerves got the better of him, but it was like he couldn’t do anything about it. 

It was when Bucky spoke up with a guilty look that Steve finally got a good idea from somebody. Not that he particularly liked it, but it was something useful at last, and Steve was actually quite angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner. The idea was to call Peggy because she was always able to find Rumlow a little easier than the rest of the world. How that worked exactly Steve never asked, because Peggy was one of those who kept their work pretty shut, and she wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, so Steve had barely any idea of what Peggy really did. There used to be times when he minded when it drove him up the wall, but not anymore. He didn’t care how she did it, the only thing Steve needed was to get you back. 

He called her almost immediately, listening to her smooth voice as she assured him that she would devote a majority of her time to help him because, after all, she still cared for him very much. Steve thanked her from the bottom of his heart and resolved to wait for her to come back to him since there was literally nothing else to do for him but to wallow in his pain. 

Surprisingly, it only took a few hours for Peggy to reach out and tell Steve that she might have found him. His heart started beating like crazy as if feeling that he might be getting you in his arms sooner than he expected. Peggy told him that she got the memo that Rumlow was hiding in an old warehouse south of the manor, around 70 kms away, and Steve just growled, knowing he was kind of right in his assumptions. He quickly gathered his team, not really speaking much, but they all understood. This was a life or death mission because most of the team was sure Steve wouldn’t survive that if they didn’t find you. 

Steve pretty much jumped out of a moving car when they neared the building, and he got to work immediately, going into the commander mode, assigning roles and talking strategy for when they would come in contact with Rumlow’s team. Everything was meticulously planned, and Steve had a good feeling about that. The only issue was that he couldn’t smell you. But he simply thought that he was still far enough to be able to do that and that they were probably keeping you in some shutoff room.

The closer to the building they got, however, the weirder the whole situation felt. No men were standing outside on the lookout, there were no specific smells to tell the team that there were indeed people hiding inside, and when they finally got in, they found the place completely empty. 

They rummaged through all the rooms, even in the basement and on the roof, but the only thing they got was some cloth lightly smelling like Rumlow, but not enough to tell them how long ago he was at the warehouse. Steve screamed in frustration because there was no sign of you, not even a hint of your smell that he so helplessly craved. 

Bucky and Sam shared distressed looks before they each grabbed Steve from one side and brought him back to the car, hollering at the whole team that the mission was over and that they needed to come back home. Steve didn’t speak the entire ride back, just staring out of the window, thinking of all the times you two would take such rides to and from the city, always discussing new books or just sharing stories from your youths. Steve now found that he took these moments for granted. He enjoyed them, sure, but not enough. There was the nagging voice telling him that he should have done more, that he ought to have taken you with him to that fucking meeting, and none of this would have happened. 

“Stop it, punk. None of this is your fault so stop with the self-blaming and call Peggy to tell you what the fuck happened that her tip wasn’t true,” Bucky interjected Steve’s thoughts, and as many times before, Steve wondered whether Bucky could just read him like an open book or if he had a direct link to his brain. Steve shook his head and dialled the number. 

“So, happily ever after?” Peggy said smugly, and if she stood anywhere near Steve, he swore he would have hit her. 

“Nothing and nobody’s fucking happy, Peggy. Nobody was there except for some piece of cloth that was supposed to smell like Rumlow. Who the fuck gave you this tip? I need to find my Omega, and I don’t have the time to drive around the city and march into every single abandoned building just because you have a hunch. I need real information, Peggy, and if you can’t give that to me, then you’re just wasting my time,” Steve said more tiredly than anything else, but Peggy’s face contorted in annoyance on the other end of the line. 

“I never waste your time, Stevie, you remember that. Look, I thought the info was top-notch, but I’ll keep looking. How about I come to your place, and we can think of a plan together?” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever, it definitely can’t harm us. I’ll be expecting you,” Steve sighed and hung up, nodding at Sam who was watching him through the rearview mirror. 

“Peggy said she’d come and help from the mansion. I mean, I’d rather have the whole fucking team together looking for Y/N, but I can’t fly everyone here from god-knows-where, so anyone who wants to join in is welcomed.” 

Sam nodded but didn’t like it one bit. He understood that Steve was desperate, but Peggy was and had always been bad news, and Sam had a hard time trusting her even back in the days when they had to fight side to side. All the secrecy surrounding her just stank, and Sam was sure he’d keep an eye on her, just in case. He wanted everything to go over smoothly for Steve, and nobody needed a sneaky bitch who would throw them under a train the second she got a better deal from the opposing side. 

You let your hand slide on the ground underneath you. It was rough with what felt like small rocks that were cutting you in the palm. You were seated, and your whole body hurt since you have been in this position for hours. Nobody talked to you since they killed your friends and abducted you. They just blindfolded you and tied you up, changing positions every few hours probably to disorient you since you doubted anybody really cared how comfortable you were. All you could do was rely on your senses and learn as much about your surroundings as you could. You weren’t even sure why you cared, but your brain couldn’t take thinking about anything related to Steve, so you busied it by making sure you knew everything you could. 

You learned that there were three places they would keep you in. You presumed that they were all in one room, but they changed whether you were sitting or lying down. You weren’t even sure what time it was and slept when they put you laid you down. Nobody ever touched you inappropriately, and that’s how you assumed not one of those people was Rumlow. 

The first place they would let you sit in was in an old crinkly chair made of rough wood as you had a few splinters from rubbing your hands against the arm-holders. It had four metal legs, and from the sounds, it made every time you shifted, you thought it was a rather old and overused piece of furniture. 

The second place was where you were sitting now. It was by the wall, which was cold and smelt of moss, and you even though you sensed death a few times, you knew that was just your exhausted brain playing games with you. The ground was full of rocks and shards of glass, so it was your least favourite place to be of the three. The ground was colder than all the other areas, and every time they made you stand up, there was a wet patch where your ass touched the ground as the coldness accumulated against your hot body, making you wish you could just change. But your abductees would never answer to your pleas, so after what you assumed were a few days, you just gave up asking them altogether. 

The third place was a makeshift bed, created out of a few pieces of wood pushed together and an old and smelly mattress. You tried to ignore all that the smell evoked in you, but you sometimes choked on your own saliva as you shifted and changed position, getting another whiff of what smelt like a hundred of butts and sweat. But it was a mattress, and you could get a few hours of sleep, so you couldn’t dwell on the details. 

When you found out everything there was with your surroundings you tried to pay attention to your abductors. And while you couldn’t say precisely how many there were, you had a pretty good idea. As you were an Omega, blindfolded and cuffed, they always came alone, and you recognised each of the people by their steps. There were four of them, each of them having differences in their weight, the length of their steps and the carefulness with which they handled you. That’s how you came up with the number of four. 

Number two was by far your favourite. They (you assumed it was a he but you couldn’t be sure) would always leave you alone even when you needed to use the bathroom. You knew they were in the room, but they had the decency to at least not physically touch you, and, in your mind, you created this picture that the person even turned around to leave you to do your business. They would also give you the biggest amount of water, seeing how you were parched because number four was a complete asshole and would always allow only a gulp before he drastically took the cup away from your mouth. 

And that was your days, filled with diverting your brain from thinking about the graver questions, like where were you, would Steve ever find you, what did they want from you, etc. Every time any of those popped up in your head, you choked up, and had to start touching your surroundings or else you’d have gone insane by now. 

It was when number three was supposed to come and let you sleep that you heard it. It was faint, but your ears perked up at anything that wasn’t your own breath or the sound of boots of your abductors hitting the ground. And this was neither. These were human voices talking about something behind the door. Your heart-rate picked up immediately because, while you hated the routine of four guards and three positions, you also knew that routine was good. Anything that was out of the routine could possibly mean death to you, and you tried to do anything to avoid that. The voices grew nearer, and you shuddered involuntarily, bracing yourself. 

When the door opened, the cold air hit your face, and you hid it between your shoulder blades. 

“Well, well, well, here is the famous Omega the world is searching for. You look so pathetic, it’s actually quite funny,” you heard a female voice say, and your brows knitted together. You heard it before, you just couldn’t place the voice for the life of you. 

“Yeah, well, the sooner she stops pining for that pathetic excuse of an Alpha and becomes mine, she will look much better. I mean, not that anybody’s gonna see her since she is just an Omega pussy, but she is my Omega pussy, so,” the man trailed off, and you didn’t have to think to place this voice. This voice haunted your worst nightmares, so you were pretty familiar with it. 

Rumlow

“Whatever, Rumlow. All we need is to get rid of her mating mark, and we’ll be good. Steve called me and found the warehouse where I sent him empty, and I, as a devoted friend, told him I’d help him from the mansion so I’ll have easy access to him and I will divert him from here if need be. You just need to do what you must so that I can have him back,” the woman spat, and it was as if a light bulb switched on. God, you felt stupid for not suspecting she had her ugly fingers in this. Fucking Peggy who obviously wanted Steve back even when she visited him all those months ago. 

And while it was nice that Steve didn’t feel the same, this woman was clearly a maniac, and she wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted. 

But, there was one more thing that caught your attention. They wanted to get rid of your mating mark, and the thought paralysed your whole body. There were only a few ways to do that to any mated couple, and none of them was humane or accepted by most people. You’ve heard of Omegas trying to sever their bonds as they didn’t like who chose them, and so they cut a clean line across their mark, but even then the bond couldn’t be severed completely. There was also the option of just biting an Omega hard enough where their mates’ mark was, and trying to beat mark with a mark. 

You also heard that true mates were inseparable, and while Bruce told you that you were true mates, you could never know for sure. The inseparableness of true mates could just as well be some old maid tales, it was one of the things your mother used to tell you, but you had no idea where the truth was. 

The only thing you did know was that however they wanted to do it, you would go through hell, both physically and mentally, and that there was a more than likely chance that you would die in the process. 

“You’re not afraid she’ll die on you?” Peggy asked more curious than concerned because, for her plan to work, your ties with Steve had to be cut. She would have preferred killing you since it was easier, quicker and with long-lasting results. But Rumlow had been obsessed with you ever since he lost the fight with Steve back at the Circle. When Peggy heard about it, she just scoffed and told him he was an idiot, because if he would have called her, she could have just snuck you out without anyone knowing and they wouldn’t have been in this mess. 

“I mean, there’s always the possibility, but I’m not letting her run around with his mark. I wouldn’t like pounding a pussy marked by somebody else. Besides, she’s stronger than she looks, isn’t it right, pussycat?” Rumlow asked, for the first time addressing you. But you knew better than to talk, so you just remained quiet, and from the low hum coming from his mouth, you assumed it was a good decision. 

“And what if that bullshit about true mates is real?” 

“Oh, please, not you too. Nothing like true mates exists, Peggy, I told you. Some just smell nicer to particular individuals than others, that’s it. I don’t even know why we’re losing time talking about this. Go and do whatever you want with Steve and his estate and I’ll just do what I want with this one,” Rumlow rumbled, and the next thing you heard was the clicking of high-heels against the hard floor, leaving you alone in the room with the devil. 

“Now, sweetheart, I think we should begin, hm?”

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t look good. Here, let me bring you to your bedroom so you can rest and the team and I will search for your mate in the meantime, hm?” Peggy suggested nicely, and Steve nodded, happy there was somebody who could possibly save you. But before she put her claws on his arm, Sam appeared out of nowhere and stopped her hand. She hissed like a cat and Sam gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. 

“I think it would be better if you stayed down here, Peggy, as you said, you are such a valuable asset to this team that I wouldn’t want to you to waste your time by going with Steve here. I will accompany him to his bedroom so that he can get some sleep, and, meanwhile, you can work with Bucky,” Sam smirked but didn’t wait for her response as he led Steve towards the staircase and up to his bedroom. There was no fucking way in hell Sam would let Peggy be with Steve alone. And since he shared his worries with Bucky, there were two of them looking out for their best friend, which left Peggy in a tough position. 

She watched Sam and Steve leave the room, and Bucky would laugh hadn’t it been such a delicate situation, because Peggy really looked like the Goddess of Revenge. That just further proved Sam’s theory about Peggy being fishy, to say the least, and Bucky was starting to question whether she didn’t have something to do with your disappearance. 

Peggy saw right through them, and she smirked to herself. If they wanted to play games with her, so be it. She would get Steve alone and inject the serum in him she had been making for so long, and they would finally live happily ever after. Just like they were supposed to. All she needed was to stay close to Steve for a couple of days, get him alone enough times, and he would be all hers. 

/ Next Chapter > 

Tags will be in reblogs xx

[hangovercurse]

Blind Date (continued)

You invite Colson in after your blind date

Request: “I loved this so much! If you get the chance and are up to it, I’d love a second part!” ”I would like to read a second part of it”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Have I edited this? No. Did I even look back over this after I wrote it? Also no

Word Count: 1974

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

The man’s lanky figure strutted over to your front door as you opened it, pausing as he entered to take in the smell of your house that screamed you. He let his eyes wander around the place as he stepped further in, taking off his coat and shoes at the front entryway.

You moved into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine while he made his way into the space. You found a note on the counter from your best friend and roommate.

Staying at Eric’s tonight in case you and your date need the place to yourself <3

You rolled your eyes at the note, chuckling as you tossed it in the trash. You rustled through your drawers to grab a corkscrew, fiddling with the bottle as Colson shuffled into the room, standing behind you to encase you in his arms.

He took the corkscrew from your hands and opened the bottle with ease. “I was getting there,” you whined jokingly.

He chuckled, “I could see that.” You turned around and allowed your lower back to rest against the counter, squeezed between the surface and Colson. His arms rested on the countertop on either side of you, his figure leaning to be level with you.

You couldn’t help but admire his features, his bright blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw sparking your artistic mind. “I wish I could sketch you right now,” you murmured your thoughts aloud.

He smirked, leaning closer into you, your lips almost meeting, “why don’t you?”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before softly speaking, “you would get bored being my model.”

He pulled away from you, fingers running across your waist until they found your hands, intertwining your fingers. “I would be honored to be your model.”

You perked an eyebrow, “seriously?”

He shrugged, “I’ve done it before for cameras, and you are much more interesting than photographers.” He pulled you away from the counter, “go get your stuff and I’ll pour wine.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your art room, which was really just your bedroom, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When you returned, he was wandering your small living area, a glass of wine in his hands and one on the small coffee table. His eyes danced along the picture frames you and your roommate had placed around the house when you first moved in, which you honestly hadn’t looked at since.

You stepped into the room with your sketchbook and pencils, making your presence known. His gaze drifted to you with a smile, watching you settle onto the couch, “so, is this your roommate?” He motioned towards one of the pictures.

You glanced up, smiling at the goofy picture you two had taken at graduation, “yep, that’s us.” You turned your head back to your book, flipping to the next blank page as he continued asking about your pictures.

“Who’s in this one?” He asked, pointing to a photo of your roommate and her boyfriend, Eric.

You chuckled at the image of them pulling funny faces in the front seat of a car while you sat in the background looking bored, “that’s Eric, her boyfriend. We went on this huge road trip and they swore I wouldn’t have to third wheel, but I obviously did.”

Colson let out a small laugh, taking a sip of his wine, “and who is that?”

You had honestly forgotten about the picture he was pointing to, but seeing it made your stomach fill with unease. “Oh, I forgot that was still up,” you sighed at Colson’s curious expression, “that’s me and my ex, TJ. We broke up months ago, I thought I’d gotten everything of his out of here.”

Colson could see the discomfort in your expression, sitting down on the armchair next to your couch, throwing his legs over the side and posing dramatically. “Bad ex, huh?” You nodded, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the conversation, though you wanted nothing more than to open up to him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes, turning so you could face him, “of all the poses, that’s what you pick?”

He smiled innocently, “yep.” A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked down at your sketchbook, pressing your pencil to the paper. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he began, “can’t really get to know each other if we don’t get at least a little bit of trauma out of the way.”

You looked up at him and giggled, “you got me there.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “Baze told me not to talk about it, but the look on your face when I asked you about him tells me you might be able to relate.” You raised an eyebrow but kept drawing, giving him a silent signal to continue. “I was dating this girl for a while, you’ve probably heard of her, Megan Fox.”

Your eyes went wide at the name, looking up at him in shock, “yeah, because that’s not an intimidating act to follow at all!”

Colson waved you off, “you’re doing great so far, don’t even worry about it.” You gave him a stern look, but he only continued with his story, “anyways, we were together for a while and she told me all the time she thought we were soulmates, and I believed her, you know?” You bit your lip, starting to feel slightly intimidated as he spoke about the woman. “But then she cheated on me after, like, 9 months. And I realized after we broke up how wrong we were for each other and how much she manipulated me.”

You frowned as he spoke, his tone getting sadder with each word. “That’s so shitty. I don’t understand why people cheat in long term relationships, especially after you’ve given them so much hope and trust. Like someone convinces you that they love you and then they go around and pull that shit. It’s evil.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face, “I’m over it now though, in case you were worried. Came to the realization about a month or two later that I was better without her.”

You held the pencil in your hands still, trying to find the words you needed to say. “I, uh, I was dating that guy, TJ. We had been friends for a while and he asked me out and I said yes. Everything was great, you know? And then like almost a year end he starts acting all weird and possessive. Like just because we had been together for so long means he doesn’t have to treat me like his girlfriend anymore. He would make me feel like shit in front of our friends and just all around was being a shitty boyfriend.” Colson stared at you intensely with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“A guy should never do that shit to his girl. You don’t deserve that shit, no one does.”

You nodded sadly, “yeah, well, then I found out like 4 months into all of this that he had cheated on me and gotten the girl pregnant so… I ended things real quick.” You let out a sad huff, turning your attention back to the book and continuing your sketch of the beautiful man in front of you. “I was really upset at first but now I’m just kind of angry. Dude was a dick.”

Colson let out a dry laugh as you took a long sip of wine, “sounds like it. I’m sorry you went through that shit.”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled, biting his lip, “guess something good came out of it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “oh yeah, the food was amazing.” Your words were full of sarcasm, yet the pout on his face still made you giggle, “I’m joking, loser.”

“You better be miss second-date.” You giggled but didn’t respond, turning back to draw him. It was quiet for a few moments, your pencil tracing along the paper.

He shifted, at which you glared up at him, “I told you you’d get bored.”

With a chuckle he said, “I’m not bored. I get to look at you while you draw, it’s far from boring.” You tried to look annoyed at him but failed miserably at his flattering words. “I was thinking though, since it’s my picture and all, I should get to make some executive decisions.”

You scoffed, “you chose your pose, what else would you like oh great model Colson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, stretching his arm out to set his glass on the table. “Well, I mentioned that I have some tattoos,” he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, “you should draw them.”

Once his shirt was fully removed from his body, you couldn’t help but gawk just a little. His entire chest was covered in ink, designs beautifully engraved into his skin. “I was gonna make a joke about this only being our first date but holy shit, these are beautiful.”

He blushed, looking down shyly, ”I was honestly scared you weren’t gonna like them.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Seriously? This is so cool. I’m an artist, you really think I’m not gonna like tattoos? Its an art form in itself.”

Colson shrugged, moving back to his pose, expecting you to continue your drawing. Instead, your eyes wandered his torso, taking in every detail of the work. “If you’re lucky,” he commented slyly, “one day I might show you all of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, moving back into drawing position, “you think you’re so cool.”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, “I do, actually.”

The two of you continued banter-laced conversation while you drew him, his likeness coming to life on your page. At some point it turned into 3 am, and you were struggling to keep your eyes opened, but you were finished.

“Here.” You turned the book to him, letting him take in your work. He didn’t speak for a few moments, causing worry to build in you. “I mean, it’s no Mona Lisa but-“

“That is fucking amazing.” He cut you off with a wide smile, “you make me look hot.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “I’m not going to feed your ego by saying something super lame like “that’s just what you look like,” but I’m glad you like it.” He chuckled at your response, climbing off of the chair to stand in front of you.

“Damn, I was really hoping to get my ego fed tonight.” He grabbed the sketchbook from you and threw it onto the couch next to you before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to stand.

You smiled to yourself, chest shaking with silent laughter, “does the sketch not feed it enough?”

He shook his head, “I need the approval of a really pretty girl to satisfy its hunger.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned up into him, “you gotta work harder than that, Rockstar.” Your words came out breathy against his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

His mouth connected to yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His soft lips meshed perfectly with yours, his hands pulling you up to stand on your tiptoes. Once you pulled away you stayed close to him, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He whispered, “I never thought a blind date could turn out so well.”