#anyways if anyone is looking for a sugar baby i know a guy

[ceruleanfuckup]

I hate banks I hate money I hate credit scores I hate loan applications I hate

[luveline]

Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?

fem, 1k

“Gideon has a new prodigy.” 

Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?” 

“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.” 

“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.” 

Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.” 

“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?” 

Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action). 

“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along. 

“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?” 

“Here they are now.” 

You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute. 

“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.” 

He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile. 

“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking. 

He frowns at you. 

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.” 

“I don't shake. Sorry.” 

You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?” 

Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.” 

“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.

You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?” 

“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.” 

“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–” 

“Hey.” 

“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.” 

“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says. 

You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.” 

“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.” 

There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love. 

“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life. 

“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?” 

“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask. 

His lips part as yours had when you first saw him. 

He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.” 

You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”

“I see.” He waits. 

You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team. 

“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.” 

You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation. 

“Was she messing with me?” 

Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.” 

"Oh... She's nice."

"You have no idea."

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

how crazy do you think the AO3 authours notes are in gotham?

"Joker killed my grandma with a reindeer whilst playing 'grandma got run over by a reindeer' and i don't think i can continue to write this JokerBat fic anymore guys sorry :/ it just feels disrespectful."

“Look, I get if Batman/Clark Kent isn’t your cup of tea, but the guy writes more about Batman than anyone else outside of Gotham. There’s got to be a reason, is all I’m saying.”

“And here I am, jumping on the Batman/Bruce Wayne train like the rest of our beloved hellhole. Anyway, if you’re not from Gotham you can keep your criticisms to yourself or I will not be held responsible for the bloodshed that will occur should you insult our beloved sunshine child and his goth sugar baby. You don’t know them like we do.”

“Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in awhile. I died and then got caught up in this whole my-father-didn’t-avenge-me angst thing. Which was completely justified in my opinion. Anyway…”

“Let’s be honest, this entire series is dedicated to the fact that Red Hood could crush any of us with his thighs and we’d say thank you.”

“I just read a fic shipping Nightwing/Superman and I mean, come on. The author is clearly not from Gotham but I can never unsee that and I think I should be entitled to financial compensation.”

“Sorry it’s been awhile, I just got a new job! With the Best Boss™️ (if you know, you know). Also, my boss said he’d give a hundred bucks if I wrote a Batman bashing fic? Thoughts? Ngl I don’t think it’d even be that hard.”

“‘WHy aRE yoU WriTIng ABouT FakE SupERheROes WHen THe rEAl oNEs aRE riGHt tHEre?’ Uh, because it’s Gotham and they’re all a disaster? And also because I don’t want to be haunted by the venegeful spirits of robins past idk. Thinking of doing a crossover though. Batman in the Avengers? Thoughts?”

“I just want my husband Nightwing to be happy, is that too much to ask?”

“I came across Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on my way home from school today and will now be hyperfixating on that ship, thanks.”

“Leave me and my 235k word fic of Prince!Bruce/Knight!Batman alone you Metropolis and Superman-loving traitors. This is not for you.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 6

Part 5

Come for the sugar daddy fantasy stay for my everybody-loves-steve agenda

Eddie insisted on helping Steve with his suit the night of the soiree. Steve allowed him into his apartment for the first time, after some extensive cleaning. Eddie was already dressed in his suit, red, no shirt underneath. He took the garment bag from Eddie, kissed his lips, and then went to his bedroom. Eddie got a glimpse of his nest before the door was shut.

"Uhh? Baby?"

"No peeking", Steve said from behind the door.

"Babyyyy", Eddie whined, pressing his face to the wood.

Steve grinned to himself as he listened, getting dressed on his own anyway. "I don't want to be late. And if I let you 'help' that's exactly what will happen."

It wasn't just what Eddie would do. It was what Steve would let him get away with. It would be very easy to let Eddie in and then tumble in his nest. The thought of letting Eddie's scent mix in... Steve wondered if he could get away with sneaking a piece of his clothing away. But Eddie had promised him a fun night out and said he'd be meeting his bandmates as well.

He finished getting dressed and came out. Eddie stumbled, being nearly glued to the door. Steve almost made a joke about falling for him.

"You gonna be this attached to me all night?", he asked instead.

Eddie righted himself and stood up straight. "If I let you out of my sight, the wolves will descend on you Lil Red."

Steve put his hands on Eddie's chest and leaned in. "Good thing I've got a big, strong woodsman to keep me safe~"

Since it was a band event, Eddie had a personal driver this time. That meant he could sit in the backseat and play with Steve the whole way. Eddie's hand was firm on Steve's thigh while the other held his hip. He'd wanted to bury them in Steve's tresses but one firm tap and reprimand 'don't touch the hair' and here they were.

Eddie was nibbling on Steve's neck, wishing he could put something more permanent on him. Let others know who he belonged to. When they arrived, Steve took a moment to get himself together. Eddie thought he looked just as radiant now as he did with sex-tousled hair but he liked seeing his baby primp too.

Eddie led him, arm in arm, into a nightclub. The music was energetic but didn't really seem to fit with Eddie's usual metal scene. Steve had done some research on the band, listened to a few songs, learned the other members names too. So even through the blaring music, he was able to understand when Eddie brought them over to a reserved table where the rest of them awaited.

"So this is the guy?", Jeff asked.

"This must be the guy", Gareth nodded.

"Can't be anyone else but the guy", Grant raised his glass to Steve.

Steve smiled at Eddie. "You've been telling them about me?"

"You're a secret I don't wanna keep, babydoll", Eddie smiled back.

"DJ here is mixing a set around one of our albums", Jeff said. "Kind of a little promotion for us. And when we share the video, he'll get a bump too."

"I thought this was a little out of the box for your sound", Steve said.

"You listen to our music?", Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged, playing it off. "I've dabbled." He leaned into Eddie's space to take a sip from the drink in his hand. "What about you? Do you dabble in this?"

"Not quite my scene, no. I'm an appreciator of most genres though."

"Can we finally break the silence on Eddie's jazz phase?", Gareth said.

"What's wrong with jazz?", Steve asked.

"Music was fine", Grant clarified, "He just got super pretentious about the different subgenres."

"He was insufferable", Gareth added.

"What about you guys, then?", Steve pointed the question to them. "Are you into this kind of music?"

"It's something to dance to", Jeff replied.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Care to dance?", Steve asked.

Jeff gave a look to Eddie, asking permission. Amused, Steve also looked to Eddie for his response. Eddie's arm had been wrapped rather possessively around him for most of the night, so he could feel how antsy Steve was getting. Eddie gave his hip a pat.

"Go have fun."

Steve kissed his cheek and then went down to the dance floor with Jeff. He loved to move and he'd been itching to dance all night, but Eddie didn't seem like a dancer, at least not to this kind of music. And he wasn't about to just go out and dance with someone random in the club. Jeff was the perfect partner, knowing when to be close and when to give him space.

He felt a finger tap his shoulder and when he turned, Grant was there. Following the beat of the music, Steve gave him his attention. He was able to catch Eddie's eyes just once and saw the hunger in his eyes. When Gareth came to dance, he was a little more hesitant to touch Steve until Steve himself pulled Gareth's hands to him.

The way they all touched him was polite but there was an underlying desire. They were showing appreciation, but they weren't going to challenge the pseudo-claim Eddie had on him. He caught Eddie's gaze again and it was darker this time. He began to walk off the dance floor, ignoring a few calls from voices he didn't recognize.

Steve returned to Eddie and straddled his lap. "Sure I can't tempt you to dance?"

"There's not a thing you can't tempt me into, sweetheart. But you'll have to give me something dance-able. Liked seein' you have fun though. My boys take care of you?"

"Mhm, they were very gentlemanly." Steve's hand dipped under Eddie's suit jacket, needing skin to skin contact.

"Music to my ears", Eddie said against Steve's lips before meeting them. He growled against his mouth as he was able to detect the scents of his friends on him. Steve was pack. Steve was his.

Eddie practically dragged him out of the club and back into the car. The door was barely closed before Steve was in his lap again. He was writhing, probably very close to ruining the nice suit pants.

"Come with me", Eddie breathed.

"Yes, Daddy", Steve moaned into his ear.

"No I mean, on tour. Come with me on tour baby."

Steve paused in his humping to look in Eddie's eyes. "You want me along for the ride?"

Eddie nodded, eyes wide and big as if there was ever a chance that Steve would say no. But he also couldn't just say yes.

"For how long?"

Eddie licked his lips. "Two months."

"My job..."

"I'll take care of anything you need", Eddie said quickly.

"My apartment-"

"I'll handle it, baby. Just please say you'll come."

Steve's head tilted to the side. Robin's words echoed in his head. Wasn't this the scenario he'd been running from? An alpha having control over his life? If for even a moment, Eddie changed his mind about him, he'd be out a job and a home. Steve looked back down at him and that was his undoing.

"I'll need a new suitcase, and wardrobe, and-"

"Done, done, and whatever else you can think of, it's done." Eddie kissed him in elation, much sweeter than anything else they'd done all night.

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

Steve at least tried to sell the whole 'can I bounce for two months and come back later' at his job but obviously that didn't fly. It was fine. It wasn't really the work or even the miniscule paycheck he was attached to. It was simply the comfort of doing the same thing in the same place every day. He could fill out applications on the road and get the same job anywhere.

True to his word, Eddie took him out shopping just a couple of days later.

"I meant to tell you", Eddie said as they walked through the mall. He was dressed very casually in jeans and a t-shirt under a vest with the band's logo on the back. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he kept his shades on inside. "That lunch meeting with sushi? Went pretty good. Your advice worked."

"You sound surprised", Steve teased. He was wearing a green sweater and light jeans.

"Not surprised, beautiful. Just in awe." Eddie put an arm around him as he led him into the first store.

Just like at the tailor's Eddie let Steve loose, letting him pick and choose what he wanted. After the third store, Steve was looking at him hesitantly.

"You're really going to spoil me. Going to turn me into a brat and anything."

"What? You? My sweet angel babydoll? Never", Eddie smirked. "You're acting like no one's ever lavished you like this."

Steve shrugged. "Well, not like this but-", then he thought better of it. "Never mind."

"I don't think so, baby. I think I deserve at least one story of past-Steve. You got to google search my life story."

"How do you know I didn't ask Jeeves?"

Eddie put a hand to his heart, then took his hat off like a sign of respect. "RIP to a real one. But you're not gonna distract me, Stevie. I feel like you've been keeping something from me. Not something big, just something you don't think I should know."

Breaking his gaze from Eddie's, Steve spied a restaurant inside the mall. "Let's eat."

Eddie had them get a booth in the back, figuring Steve would want some modicum of privacy for this. He wasn't expecting a bombshell, but he figured it must mean something to Steve.

"So, when you met me, you probably thought I was this... downtrodden, poor omega with nowhere to go." That rainy night seemed so long ago.

"That's not what I thought at all", Eddie said with a shake of his head. "Honestly thought you were waiting for someone. Made no sense to me that you were all alone."

Steve smiled. "Well, I wasn't always alone. Not physically, at least. My parents are Layton and Margaret Harrington. They've got a hand in a lot of things but most of our money comes from apple orchards of all things."

"So you're the heir to a vast apple fortune", Eddie surmised.

"Was the heir to a vast fortune."

"Is there a story behind that?", Eddie asked, watching Steve pick at his food.

"Not an original one", Steve said with a chuckle. "They paraded the alpha sons of their associates. I was also paraded. I was offered a life where all I had to do was look nice and speak little and eventually bring up the next generation of whatever old money family my parents chose for me... It was suffocating."

Eddie's leg stuck out from under the table and rubbed against his. "You got your own place. And your own job. You got out. Why would you keep this from me though? Doesn't sound particularly scandalous."

"I don't know", Steve shook his head. "Maybe I didn't want you to think I was a gold digger, or maybe I didn't want you to think I had super high expectations, or-it just felt like I shouldn't tell you. I'm tired of carrying my parents around."

"They're really that loaded?"

"Didn't you hear me say 'old money'?"

"Is there some scorned ex-fiance I should be worried about?"

"Hmmmnope."

"You sure about that, sweetness?"

"I'm sure. None of them are looking for me. And none of them hold a candle to you."

Eddie could understand wanting to leave the past in the past. After eating, they continued their shopping spree. Eddie paused at a costume shop that showed a few of the outfits on mannequins in the window. Steve followed his line of sight and grinned.

"Gimme your card."

"Sure, what for?", Eddie asked as he handed it over to Steve.

"For a surprise. Go get a pretzel. I'll text you when I'm ready." He kissed Eddie's cheek and then went into the costume shop.

Whipped like cream, Eddie did in fact go get a pretzel, fantasizing about all the little outfits Steve could be buying right now. When they met up, he wasn't allowed to peek. So while he knew there must be a costume of some kind in Steve's wardrobe now, he was oblivious to the lingerie he'd bought as well.

Part 7

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx  @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore

[slvtforoldermen]

Joel Miller Starring In…

Affection Petnames!!

Baby:

Pretty standard, you know every day use, not his favourite but definitely most used. But he loves it when you’re curled up under the covers and he’s just come in from a long day of hard work, and you’re cuddled up, as if nothing could harm you. His baby. His pretty baby who takes him so well, and he fucks his baby so good, right, his baby?

Babygirl/Babyboy:

This one he mostly uses in two separate situations. The first, when you’re sad, crying your eyes out at whatever has hurt you today, he kneels down between your legs, wiping your tears and shushing you, whispering to you, asking if you wanna talk about it, but not pushing you if you don’t want to just yet. The other, only on sweet Joel days, when he’s so deep inside you, rocking into you slowly, overstimulating you because he’s trying to reach his own orgasm, and again he’s wiping tears from your face, and peppering kisses on your face, whilst he fucks you through another orgasm. Please just thank him, he’s trying his best to get there, but he’s getting old, he can’t cum like he used to…

Sugar:

This is very a preoutbreak!Joel coded nickname. Just imagine you’re cooking in the kitchen, moving around as quickly as possible, and you get stopped by Joel, his large figure enclosing yours and he mutters a quick: “Hey sugar, how was your day?” But sometimes… “Oh yeah sugar, don’t you take my cock so well, oh yeah, so pretty…” “So dirty for me sugar, fuck.”

Doll:

I had a dream the other night where Joel and I were drinking and laughing and then he called me Doll and I’ve not been the same since. Anyway, now that I’m sad. “Morning doll…” he’ll murmur to you when he wakes up, snuggling into your back, his nose pressed against your collarbone. He loves just watching you ride him, and definitely uses doll in a degrading way most of the time. From “Good doll, not good for anything but a good fuck” “Pretty doll, hole so tight, can’t get enough of you” to “I love you so much doll… did so well, y’always do honey…”

Guys look at my man, he’s so sweet, he couldn’t ever hurt anyone :(

Sweetcheeks:

A very teasing and sweet nickname for him. Incredibly similar to sugar but a lot less intimate. You’ll just be doing chores and work around the house, and Joel will silently slip behind you and grab your ass, giving one cheek a small smack. “Hey sweetcheeks, you’re the best, yknow that?” After questioning of what Joel wants, you’ll be dragged into the bedroom and fucked into next week.

[suzukiblu]

Day six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

"You're bluffing," the thief says flatly.

"And you're fucking stupid if you think this is the play that's getting you out of here," Kon snorts, tapping a foot against the floor. "C'mon, man, give it up. I've got plans tonight." 

"Use the artifact!" the alleged "Mark" yells at the thief holding it. 

"Right!" said thief says, then . . . pauses, and looks embarrassed. "How do I . . . do that?" 

Kon looks incredibly unimpressed. Tim empathizes. Deeply. 

"You guys need a minute there?" Kon asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Shut up!" Mark snaps at him. "Just use it, Lisa!" 

"I thought you said no names–" 

"Use it!" 

"Uh, right!" 

The thief chucks the little clay goat at Kon. Tim is genuinely embarrassed for this entire crew. 

Kon catches the goat one-handed, which is kind of a stupid idea, but letting it smash on the floor admittedly wouldn't look great. People over property, obviously, but Kon also historically has issues with property damage and letting the bad guys smash up ancient artifacts is not the best plan in general anyway. Especially given how often said ancient artifacts have ghosts or curses or apocalypses locked inside them. 

"Lisa!" the thieves all yell in horror.

"Was this the whole plan?" Kon asks, making a show of inspecting the goat. "Like, was this it? I can come back later, if you're still cooking on that."

Tim muffles a laugh with a snort. Kon definitely caught it, though, judging by his smug smirk. 

"Shut up, wannabe!" the thief still holding a gun to Tim's head snarls, which reminds Tim he should be pretending to care about the gun currently being held to his head. Honestly, he would in Gotham, but the only way this moron is shooting anybody is by accident. 

. . . admittedly, that is a concern, given the trigger discipline issue. Hm.

"Killing me would probably count as felony murder, just so you know," Tim mentions, glancing around the thieves. "Which you could all be charged with, not just whoever actually shot me. Plus I'm pretty sure stealing objects of cultural heritage from a museum is a federal crime."

He's completely sure of all that, actually, for obvious reasons, but he has to at least pretend to be a civilian here. Like, some effort needs to go into that illusion, if for no other reason than to avoid a Bat-lecture from Bruce or, worse, a Bat-"I'm not mad, just disappointed" from Dick. 

Or, worst, Alfred might make disapproving shortbread instead of approving jammy dodgers for post-patrol tonight. That'd be really unfortunate. Tim could really use an approving jammy dodger tonight. He's already going to have to write up a very annoying incident report of this situation as it is, and also deal with the mortification of getting his neck saved by a Super. There is no dignity in that. At all. 

He is definitely never telling the team his secret identity. At least not until he's absolutely positive Kon hasn't inherited any of Superman's eidetic memory, anyway. He's ninety-nine percent sure he hasn't, but that last percent is a definite concern right now. 

"No one asked your opinion, brat!" Mark snaps, though a few of the other thieves now look extremely uneasy. Tim makes another mental note about their crew's obvious lack of prep time and general planning and continues to be embarrassed for them. Museum robberies in Gotham are themed events with careful research and preparation involved, and frankly usually involve more thoughtful effort than whatever gala they may or may not be crashing did. Smash and grab is for convenience stores and small-timers. And these guys are definitely small-timers, but this is equally definitely not a convenience store.

Metropolis is so weird. Why anyone even bothers doing petty crime in it at all is beyond Tim. Maybe they're just banking on Superman being more concerned with natural disasters and alien invasions and rescuing cats from trees, which is a valid strategy. Same theory as splitting up and making a cohesive group into multiple targets.

"He has the idol!" Lisa hisses, glaring at Kon like she's not the one who threw it at him to begin with. Tim gets a gun barrel jammed into his temple again. He has no idea why Trigger Discipline: What Not To Do thinks that's, like . . . a productive thing to do. At this rate he's going to get a bruise or something.

Well, he's not actually doing it hard enough to hurt, admittedly, though Tim does keep expecting it to. The guy looks like he's putting his back into it, but the impacts continue not to actually hurt, so Tim supposes he's just trying to put on a show here. 

Well, at least he's putting in some effort, Tim supposes. That's something. 

"I really do have plans tonight, you know," Kon reminds them, raising an eyebrow at the thieves again. 

"I would appreciate you delaying those, actually," Tim mentions. "If you don't mind, I mean." 

"Oh, yeah, don't sweat it, dude," Kon says, waving him off. "These people are annoying but I'm not gonna ditch out on you here, that's not your fault." 

"Don't ignore us!" one of the unnamed thieves yells. "And give the idol back!" 

"I have no idea why you would expect me to do that," Kon says. 

"I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim threatens, jamming the gun barrel into his head again. 

"I mean, I'm pretty sure that dude was right about the felony murder thing, so maybe don't?" Kon says, inspecting the little clay goat again. "Hm. This thing is actually kinda cute." 

"It is, isn't it," Tim agrees. "I thought it looked like a kid's toy."

"Oh yeah, I can see that," Kon says, squinting assessingly at it. "Like those chunky toddler ones?" 

"Yeah, like those," Tim confirms with a nod. "Fisher-Price, Duplo, that kind of thing." 

"I'll take your word on that one, man, my 'toddler' stage only lasted about half a day and I was sedated for it," Kon replies in amusement. Tim seethes internally and thinks very uncharitable thoughts about Cadmus. 

"I said I'll shoot!" the thief holding him says furiously, tightening his arm across Tim's neck. It's still not actually enough to hurt, but again, Tim appreciates seeing a little more effort. "Give us the idol, you stupid brat!" 

"I'm trying to help you out here," Kon says, looking exasperated. "You're just making shit worse for yourself the longer you keep this up. Put down the gun and let the guy go, you'll get a way lighter sentence." 

"Fuck you!" the thief shouts. "The power of the idol will protect us!" 

"The idol that I am currently holding, you mean?" Kon says, hefting it meaningfully. "The one that is in specifically my possession and not yours?" 

Tim does understand that talking people down is the preferred approach and Kon can't actually super-speed this problem away, but Kon could at least pretend to be taking this seriously. From his perspective, there's a civilian hostage with a gun to their head and an angry criminal with their finger on the trigger, but he's acting like there isn't any danger in the situation at all.

Tim gets the posturing thing and the general "cooler than thou" attitude Kon likes to present, but it's definitely not making any of the thieves calm down. Like, not at all is it making any of the thieves calm down. 

This incident report is going to be very annoying to write. 

"It's not yours!" Lisa shrieks at him. 

"You literally threw it at me," Kon says. "I only have it because you threw it at me. Also pretty sure it's not yours either, given all the screaming alarms and broken glass and the smashed-in wall I am currently standing in the wreckage of."

Tim starts wondering if maybe he should revisit his "tripping" plan. He doesn't really want to pull any Robin-esque moves in front of Kon, but also dying would really fuck up all that hard work he's put into being Bruce's emotional support sidekick. Also two dead Robins in a row could not possibly end well. Especially in such a stupid way. Especially in Metropolis. 

"You don't even know what you're holding, you idiot!" Lisa fumes.

"A toddler toy, I thought we established," Kon says. "'Doopler' or something?"

"Duplo," Tim corrects, internally calculating tripping angles. 

"That one, yeah," Kon amends. "Doppo." 

Tim, resignedly, thinks his determined commitment to pointlessly fucking up is adorable. Also still hates Cadmus and has the irrational urge to buy him a teddy bear or something, although Kon would definitely just think he was fucking with him if he did.

Maybe he could just smuggle one into his room and disavow all knowledge of its existence. That's an option. 

"Give us the idol now!" the thief holding Tim snarls, his face twisting in rage. 

"Yeah, no," Kon says. 

"You little–!" the thief starts to yell, and then his trigger finger slips. Tim knows this because the gun goes off right next to his ear. 

And right against his temple. 

Half the room screams and the thief yells and drops the gun, recoiling in horror. It goes off again as it hits the floor and a bullet shatters a historically-significant vase the way one should have shattered Tim's personally-significant skull. 

What the fuck?

"Shit, sorry, that was probably kinda loud," Kon says apologetically, wincing a little but otherwise looking completely unphased by all of that. Tim blinks, very slowly, and attempts to restore his resting heart rate. It's not a particularly successful attempt.

"Yeah, kinda," he says.

"Sorry, sound waves are harder to block," Kon apologizes, pointing at his own ear with his free hand, and Tim remembers the other's total lack of concern for any threat to civilian life this whole time and realizes that was because, from Kon's perspective, there wasn't any actual threat.

Huh. 

Well, that explains why neither the gun barrel nor the being choked thing actually hurt at any point, doesn't it.

"Oh," Tim says, looking down at the floor that they are, in fact, all still standing on. "Tactile telekinesis?"

"You've heard of it?" Kon says, looking pleased. 

"Once or twice," Tim says, managing not to say it too dryly. Kon looks even more pleased. "I didn't know you could use it like that, though." 

"Practice makes perfect," Kon replies smugly.

[the-marshals-wife]

Cinnamon Sugar (Colt Seavers x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: A spontaneous Colt fic because I saw The Fall Guy again and I'm hopelessly in love. Someone needs to get this man his coffee, and it might as well be you. ♥

Description: Colt Seavers x Fem!Reader, flirty fluff | Warnings: nada, just Colt being the supportive sunshine he is | Setting: before Jody (or AU without) | Word count: 2,129 | Gif credit: user tay-swifts

Imagine being Colt's old flame and reuniting under unexpectedly sweet circumstances

As it turns out, production assistant was just a fancy name for errand girl. At least that seemed to be the case for you in the nearly two years you'd held the title. Yet after everything you'd been through to get here, you couldn't lose this job. Nearly an hour after you were supposed to, you haphazardly assembled the daily morning coffees for the sound crew on Stage B, and were now rushing like mad across set to make the first of many apologetic appearances for the day.

"Excuse me, sorry," you repeat nervously as you duck around people.

You'd overslept your alarm after staying up nearly all night printing a mountain of forms for the design director. Having never even eaten breakfast, you calculated if you also skipped lunch, you might be able to catch up to your usual routine. You weave between the tents as fast as your legs will carry you, trying not to bump into anyone and lose your cargo of caffeine.

As you cut the corner around a camera truck, you're fixated on the tray of beverages in your hands, and you don't see the person right in front of you. You collide at full speed.

The tray flies back into your chest. You gasp as the lids of two of the cups pop off and pour coffee all down the front of you and the poor soul you collided with. You recoil and frantically try to catch the other two cups, but you're unsteady from the impact. A strong hand grasps your arm and keeps you from tumbling completely to the ground as you attempt to regain your balance and find purchase in the loose gravel. Despite your efforts to recover, the tray and all its contents falls at your feet. You're left drenched and clinging to the arm that's gripping yours.

You gape down at the mess, frozen in horror.

"I am SO sorry," you begin shakily, "Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry! I'm such a-"

The second you look up, it feels like time stops, along with your pounding heart. You would know those baby blues anywhere, even through the narrow visor of a helmet. He removes his headgear, and you stare in complete disbelief at the rugged, all-too-familiar face before you.

"Colt?"

"Y/N?"

He sounds equally stunned, his eyes filled with recognition.

"It's you," you breathe.

"It's you," he says, flashing a bewildered smile, "Are you alright? Did you get burned?"

"I'm fine. It was lukewarm anyway" you reply, embarrassed, "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," he nods distantly, "Long time."

"Yeah. Furious Seven set, right?"

"Close. Fate of the Furious," he recalls, "Summer 2016. Havana, and Atlanta."

"That's right. I can never keep the order straight."

"No one can," he laughs, lips twisting into a grin, "You look great."

"So do you," you smile.

Somehow, he'd gotten more handsome than the last time you met. Memories come flooding to the front of your dizzied mind. Many of hot summer nights spent by the pool, and even more of sneaking off together to the hotel rooftops to be alone. Even now, you could still feel the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around you while you talked for hours beneath the stars, sharing your dreams and imagining the future. You'd hoped desperately that he would be in both. And here he was, crashing back into your life and looking at you as if he'd never left.

Knowing you were already slipping back under the spell of his lovesome stare, the coffee dripping off your cheek and down your neck brings you back to reality.

"Oh, look at your suit," you despair at the splatters, attempting to wipe them away with your shirt sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Colt. You know me, always the klutz."

"Don't worry about it. It looks like it's water and coffee resistant," he dismisses, gesturing to the helmet in his hand, "I'm the idiot walking around with this thing on. Just trying to slip away for five minutes without someone yelling at me. Director's got a stick up so far up his backside today, I think it's stabbing his brain, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I definitely do," you grin, followed with a sigh, "I think the whole art department has it out for me at this point."

As you swipe away the last of the obvious drops, your hand lingers on his chest. Blinking, you remember yourself and quickly step back.

"Unfortunately, I don't think my getup is as resistant as yours. Probably should swing by costuming next," you laugh, looking down at your soiled, previously white blouse.

"What am I doing?" Colt admonishes himself before shouting over his shoulder, "Uh, can we get a towel over here, please? Or two? Thank you."

Much to your gratitude, another assistant walking by hands you each a towel a moment later, the studio logo emblazoned on the corner. You hurriedly rub the black linen over your face and turn your focus to your ruined clothes.

"Great service around here," he remarks.

"Coffee delivery notwithstanding," you add.

As he brushes the remaining droplets off his shoulders, his expression turns hesitant. "Oh, you uh, missed a spot. May I?"

You pause wiping at your sleeves and nod to him. He delicately brushes away your hair to dab your temple with his towel, and his touch is almost as soft as his gaze upon you.

"There. Good as new," he declares.

"Thank you," you say, proceeding to wipe at your java-stained jeans in an effort hide your flushed cheeks. "I had no idea they brought you on."

"I've only been here about a week," he explains, clearing his throat, "The last guy's wife just had a baby. I'm just filling in 'til he gets back."

Your stomach sinks at the news, and you try to conceal your disappointment as he continues.

"But yeah, we started the shoot for the big chase scene today. Just wrapped up the opening shots."

"Wow, that's great. I can't believe I haven't seen you around before now. Then again, I don't see the set much while the cameras are rolling. I'm mostly behind the scenes, running all over creation bringing this and that. Speaking of which..." You toss the towel around your neck and squat down to clean up your accident. "I know some people on Stage B who are probably wondering where their drinks are right about now."

Colt takes a knee and retrieves the tray for you, and you begin to stack the empty cups and sticky lids.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" he asks, worry in this voice.

You flinch at the thought, "Not much if I hurry up and remake these."

"Let me help you then."

"You don't have to do that, Colt. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm on break, and you only dropped them because of me," he insists, "Even if I wasn't, what are they gonna do? Start without me?"

You smile to yourself. There was no arguing with him. He was just as charming as you remembered, and twice as stubborn.

"Alright, you win, Mr. Bigtime Stuntman," you tease.

He holds up the last cup and he raises his eyebrow suspiciously at the letters scribbled in marker on the side.

"What does the 'C.S.' stand for? Colt Seavers?"

"Cinnamon sugar, actually," you chuckle, "Vanilla latte with exactly six shakes of cinnamon sugar on top. Executive producer's favorite. He orders it every single day, no joke."

"That sounds good. I might have to try that myself," he smirks, "Is there like a coffee list I need to put my name on? Or do I just...swing by your trailer?"

"Like they give trailers to production assistants," you scoff, standing up.

Before you can pick up the loaded tray, he snatches it off the ground and jumps to his feet. You know better than to try to take it back from him.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he gives a little bow. "Lead on, milady."

"The machine's in the catering tent," you giggle, walking in that direction.

"Why are you running around getting coffee for people anyway?" Colt asks, following alongside you, "I thought you were writing the greatest paranormal, pseudo-thriller mystery romance movie of all time? 'Lovers of Lives Past.' What happened with that?"

"You remembered," you say, blushing.

"Of course I remember! I love that story! Did you finish it?"

You frown, reminiscing on the hand that fate had dealt you since you were last together. "My mom had a bad fall, and I took off a year to take care of her. She's better now, but when I got back, I couldn't find any work. The studio wouldn't take me back in my old role. Said they 'downsized the crew.' That included the writer's room. I couldn't even get a spot as a proofreader. When this position finally opened up, I had to take it. It was that or quit the filmmaking world altogether," you sigh, crossing your arms, "I don't know, after being away so long, working on the script didn't seem to matter anymore."

"It does matter. If it means something to even just one person, it matters," he states emphatically, "It matters to you, and it matters to me, so that's already two people right there. Look at you go, Miss Bigtime Hollywood Screenwriter."

His words get a snicker out of you. You'd missed that unbridled enthusiasm of his so very much.

"Oh Colt," you say, shaking your head, "I don't think I have it in me to write a real movie. Besides, you know how quick the landscape changes in this business. No one wants the stupidly optimistic, cheesy stuff I write. They all want gritty, dark scripts or things they can make ten-year franchises out of."

He stops in his tracks and immediately faces you. "Now that's where you're wrong. People want the cheesy. They want the hope, even if they don't know they want it. They need it," he insists, "I know you can do it. I believe in you. But that doesn't matter unless you believe in you."

You stare at him thoughtfully, heart swelling. He was wasting no time reminding you of all the reasons you fell for him in the first place. As if you could ever forget.

"You're sweet," you say.

Sweet. Warm. Inviting. Comforting. Your cinnamon sugar.

He smirks. "It's the vanilla latte."

You start walking once again. The catering tent was close up ahead, and the butterflies in your chest were building up with every step.

"So um, where are you heading next? When the other guy gets back, I mean," you stammer.

"I'm not sure. My schedule is actually pretty open after this," he answers, giving you a coy look, "Why?"

"Just wondering," you say, biting your lip.

"I was thinking of maybe hanging around here a bit. Slow down, take in the scenery, see the sights," he suggests, "You know anyone who could show me around town?"

"I might." You fight to suppress your excitement as you sense his meaning.

"Colt!" someone calls out from behind you, "Pyro wants to talk to you about the ramp launch! They're worried about the impact of explosion on the car with you in it!"

Colt comes to a halt and groans, bowing his head.

"This is why I had the helmet on," he says under his breath.

You look over your shoulder and see that the voice belongs to the stunt coordinator. He had been friendly the few times you'd spoken to him while handing out donuts to the crew, but at present, he looked less-than-thrilled to be delivering that message.

"I see you, man! I know you can hear me!"

He finally turns on his heel to shout back. "Alright, just gimme a minute!"

"Chief wants to see you now. They're almost done prepping the next shot!"

Colt pivots back to you, wincing. "I'm sorry. He always gets intense over fire stuff."

You laugh and take the tray from his hands. "You better go. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble either."

"I'll be back for that coffee. Cinnamon sugar, six shakes exactly," he says with a wink as he steps in the other direction.

You give him a thumbs up. "I'll keep the machine running."

Mere seconds after you turn your back, he calls your name, and you're spinning around again.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yes, Colt?"

"Promise me you won't give up on your story?"

"Okay," you agree.

"Say you promise," he points a finger at you, walking backwards, "Say the words."

"I promise I won't give up," you concede, grinning, "Promise me you won't blow up?"

"Cross my heart."

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi!! I am in love with your writing for Tom and Bill, literally lol. I was wondering if you could write something for Bill with a mom!reader that has a son and how he would be? (If your not comfortable writing it, it’s ok lol I’m know some people aren’t!!)

(aw, this is actually cute! Sorry if this isn't what you wanted but I tried! Anyways, enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Mom Reader

When he first started to get to know you and found out you had a kid

He was pretty surprised

He'd ask why and how you had them and when you explained, he'd be pretty nonchalant about it

He's seen way worse things before in life

A kid his age with a kid is not the worst thing possible

But when he started to date you, he got a bit nervous

If the dad isn't involved, he wouldn't know what to do really

He'd be polite around the kid but he wouldn't want to overstep boundaries

If the kid actually started getting attached to Bill, so would he a little bit

It would just take time because Bill doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable

But he would be really great with the kid though

Like he'd play with them, feed them and even annoy you with them all the time

Carrying the baby down the street all the time while with you

Paparazzi has gotten quite a few photos of Bill having your son on his shoulders, carrying him or you and him holding each of his hands while walking

Your son would probably be dressed like Bill a lot

It's called fashion

Your son actually loves it though

Looks up to Bill and finds him extremely cool

He doesn't quite get that Bill is famous though

He had to have it explained to him the best he could comprehend that Bill was pretty well known

But it makes your son proud Bill chose to be there for him and you when he didn't have to be

If you ever felt bad about Bill being "dragged" into your son's life, he'd put a stop to it

He loves your son and you and he's happy and content with how things are

Would keep your son however long you need

The band actually liked having the little guy around

Toms teaching him curse words with Georg

Gustav puts hats on him and is probably the favorite uncle of your son

Your son is now the mascot of the band

Is probably taken on stage a lot of times by Bill when he is able to hold him on stage

Your son has screamed into the mic a lot but it's okay

Tom uses your son to get women's attention at times

Why not pay attention to a cute little baby?

Gustav let your son sit on his lap and go ham on the drums a bit one time when he could and your son loved it

Your son messes up Georgs hair from time to time

Georg has no choice but to comply

All and all, Bill loves you and the little guy very much

I think it all started back when paparazzi flooded you guys and Bill got angry at them

They were shoving cameras in you and your son's face and your kid began to cry

Bill got a bit overprotective and picked up your son as pushes through them all, holding your hand as ur kid cried into his neck

Your son has been attached to him by the hip ever since

"(Name)! Get your kid!" Tom yelled, your son laughed as he jumped over and under tables as the band tried getting him.

"No can do." You laughed, watching Tom try to grab your son but miss horribly, bumping into Georg as sending him into the wall.

"Hey! (S/n)! I'll give you the hat, just calm down!" Gustav yelled as your son almost tipped over his bass drum as he weaved through.

"Woah!" Bill yelled, opening the door to find the room in complete chaos as his friends and brother ran around to catch him as you laughed on the couch.

"Bill!" You son yelled through his missing front tooth, running through Tom's legs with his hands up to greet Bill.

"Seriously?!" Gustav yelled, leaning onto Georg almost on the floor as Bill smiled and picked your son up.

"What's going on?" Bill asked as (S/n) played with the necklace he made for Bill, Bill looked around the chaotic room with a smile.

"He got sugar." Tom bluntly stated, flopping on the couch and trying to catch his breath.

"He just missed Bill." You shrugged, smiling at Tom's exhaustion as you messed up his dreads, getting your hand swatted away.

"Did you miss me?" Bill asked in a soft voice to your son, smiling as he tickled your son's stomach and got a laugh in response.

"It seems you did." Bill laughed, your son's shrieks of laughter echoing as he tried to escape Bill's grasp and back to you.

"Back to mom we go." Bill walked over to you, sitting on your right before letting your son go with a final tickle.

Your son giggled, climbing onto your lap as you accepted him happily, smiling up at Bill from his head hidden in your neck.

Days like these may be chaotic, but Bill would always take them with an open heart and a smile.

[rogerswifesblog]

Omg I love "its all about the", I like that the roles are changed and we get to see how it could be when a man is the one needing some help!

I have a drabble request if I May, how would steve reaction if maybe a bussiness partner of the reader start to flirt with her?

Sending love 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Ohhh thank you! I’m glad you like the dynamics! Tbh I love them myself and have fun with these series/ideas etc:3

To your request…a jealous Stevie? 👀 here you go;

Series Masterlist

Warnings: jealousy, Steve being mean, bad expression of feelings, argument, (reader slaps Steve), alcohol consumption

Pairing: sugar baby Steve x sugar mommy reader

A/N: I’m slowly starting to write again wuhu

Steve started hating all those events were anyone wanted to talk to you. Businesspeople, random guests or anyone else, really. Too many people wanted your attention.

Your attention should be on Steve. Was he possessive? Of course not. (He definitely was.)

“When can we go home? We’ve been here for over three hours…that’s enough”, Steve whined next to you, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist. You chuckled quietly at Steve’s whining, kissing his cheek gently. “Stevie, just a bit longer-maybe you could get us something to drink? I’d like to have a mojito”, you asked, kissing his cheek once again.

He blushed lightly, but nodded. “Fine, one drink and then home?”, since you could tell Steve really wasn’t in the mood to stay any longer, you nodded. It was late anyway. Going home and cuddling on the couch, maybe watching a movie, sounded nice, too.

When Steve disappeared, someone else walked up to you, a man your age that you had met a few times during those dinner parties and events.

You were pretty sure he was also a CEO, though from a completely different company involving a clothing brand-not that you cared much about his company not his Welth.

“What a beautiful dress for a beautiful lady”, his first words were, making you smile a bit, it was a lame but friendly compliment. “Thank you, my boyfriend chose it-oh there he is”, you said when you’ve noticed Steve walked with two glasses.

“This guy? He looks like-“ “I’d be careful with what you choose to say next.” “No, no, I’m not gonna say anything…offensive. It’s just, he looks very young, I’m sure you could have a much better life with someone your age, someone like-“ your loud laugh interrupted his sentence, while you shook your head slowly.

“Thank you for your concern, but I couldn’t imagine a better life than the one I have now”, you said, smiling in Steve's direction. You could tell he wasn’t in the mood to stay here for much longer.

From the bar Steve could see you laughing with some stranger (he had to admit the man looked like a very wealthy and handsome stranger…). Scoffing he took the two drinks and walked quickly up to you, immediately placing a lingering kiss, looking at the stranger when he parted from your soft lips.

“Steve”, he introduced himself to the man. At least he was taller than this stupid guy. But he could tell Carlos-, from what he had introduced himself-had a lot of money, the Rolex showed it all, and he really didn’t want to know how expensive his suit was.

That’s when it hit him.

What if you’d get bored taking care of Steve’s finances all the time? What if you’d rather have someone taken care of your needs?

“Stevie, are you alright?”, you asked, seeing how lost he was in thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll just go to the bathroom real quick, can you hold it for me?” Steve placed his glass in your hand, before disappearing.

“Someone’s in a bad mood, huh, it’s probably past his bedtime”, joked Carlos, making you furrow your eyebrows at him. If he was trying to achieve anything good, he was miserably failing. Especially when he was trying to insult Steve.

So you just kept quiet. “So, how long are you two a thing?”, he asked while leaning against the counter next to you, his shoulder touching yours. “We’ve been together for a while now. And we’re very happy together”, you said while sipping at your mojito.

“And is it serious or just for now? I’d love to try to change your mind about maybe seeing someone your age, you know, you’re a beautiful woman and a date wouldn’t hurt-“ “stop right there. I don’t want to go out with you, I’m in a relationship and I’m very happy, please stop pressuring me or this conversation will have to end right now”, you hissed, but kept a smile on your lips, since you didn’t want anyone to notice the unpleasant encounter.

When Steve joined you again, you immediately wrapped your hand around his bicep after he took his mojito from you. “I don’t feel like finishing the drink, I’m a bit tired”, you said to Steve but loud enough for Carlos to hear. “What a shame, it was such a pleasure to meet such a wonderful woman”, Carlos interrupted whatever Steve wanted to say and took the mojito from your hand, placing it on the counter before taking your hand and pulling it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on your black lace glove.

Steve immediately grabbed your wrists, pulling it away from him before walking with you to the door, not minding anyone, even the people that tried to wish you a nice evening. Not even your friends that he liked.

You knew he wanted to go home but you hadn’t expected him to be this eager to get home as quick as possible.

Thank god you had already texted Clint you’d only finish one drink and go home, so he drove up just in the right moment.

While driving home you tried to cuddle a bit up to Steve but he didn’t react much, only holding your hand lightly. “Is everything alright?” “Sure.”

So something was definitely wrong, but maybe he didn’t want to talk about it in front of Clint, who had become a close friend to Steve.

After entering your shared home Steve took of his jacket and shoes and walked straight to his old room, where he had stayed at the beginning of your relationship. “Steve, what-why are you here?”, you asked in confusion after following him into the room.

“I assumed you don’t want me to sleep with you in one bed tonight”

What?

“What?”, you said your thoughts out loud. “Carlos. You seemed to having found a replacement for me”, his words only made you laugh-and your laugh made him frown. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to laugh but it’s just ridiculous-nobody could replace you”, you walked up to him, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“I saw the way you laughed with him-and how he kissed your hand-“ “no, Steve, I laughed at him, not with him. He was saying some bullshit and the kiss…it happened so quickly I didn’t even notice when he pulled my hand-“

“Don’t bullshit me, I know he can treat you better. He could give a better life, a better future-“ “Steve, stop! I don’t need a rich guy-“ “I didn’t say anything about his money, this was your first thought-“ you scoffed at his words.

“Don’t try to make it look like it’s me who noticed his wealth-I saw how you looked at his watch-how you immediately got lost in thought. I knew what you were thinking about. I’m not stupid. But it’s still not what I’m interested in. I want you” “sure, you want a broke college student-or do you prefer the stripper? The broke stripper, that was in depth and needed money-“

You felt your eyes burn at Steve’s words. Did he really think so little of himself? A broke student or just a stripper? “Sweetheart, please let’s sit down and talk about it-“ “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’m not in depth anymore, I have a job, I don’t need all the money anymore, I don’t need your help anymore. I can get by on my own. You can now do with the contract whatever you want-rip it, burn it-I don’t care! Go and get yourself someone who’s your league”, all the accusations made your tears fall even though you tried to hold it back.

For a second you felt like Steve had really only used you for the money-which in the beginning was true, but he lived with you for a year now. And you had confessed your feelings months ago-you two loved each other. You knew. You could feel it.

“Steve I know you don’t mean it like that-“ “what if I do? Maybe it was all a lie? What if I just needed the money? Have you never thought about it? I’m just a poor kid that found a naive woman to get him on his fe-“ before he could finish his sentence you couldn’t stop yourself and slapped him across the face, even surprising yourself with it.

You knew you shouldn’t be overreacting, especially considering he had been drinking all evening, but his words hurt.

“You can either go to sleep or pack your things, it’s your decision”, you hissed, slamming the door behind you.

After taking a shower you walked to your bed, trying to ignore the need to check if steve left his things or had packed-but in the end you opened his night stand. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

You breathed out quietly before laying down and tried to fall asleep, which took you a very long time.

Your dreams were haunted by arguments, fights and tears, all resulting in Steve’s leaving. Would he really want to leave you? Or did he only use you for money? Was the love fake? Maybe he was actually-

“Good morning, Y/N, I made you breakfast”, Steve’s soft voice woke you up, the bed dipping where he sat down at the edge. His hand caressed your cheek, “I wanted to apologize for yesterday-“ while you tiredly opened your eyes, Steve immediately pulled you into a sitting position and his arms.

“I'm so incredibly sorry for all the things I’ve said-I…I don’t know what came over me or why I did it. I don’t think you’re naive or that you only wanted to have some fun with me-sure, maybe this was our deal at the beginning, but it’s not like this anymore. I love you. I love you so much and I hate myself for hurting you like this yesterday”, mumbled Steve, kissing your forehead.

“What happened Steve? Why were you so angry and upset?”, you asked while gently pushing him away by his shoulders, looking him up and down in concern.

He sighed, deeply.

“I’m…I think it’s because I’m scared. And jealous. Sometimes I just feel like it’s all not real. Like you might actually want to be with someone else, someone older, more experienced…more…wealthy..”, he whispered, lowering his head shamefully.

“If I could, I’d want you all to myself and seeing this douche kiss your hand…god, it killed me”, he shook his head, brushing his hand over his face.

You immediately grabbed his hand, pulling it to your lips and leaving a kiss behind. “Oh sweetheart…”

Slowly you sat onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing the top of his head. „Please, never doubt our love because of some douche…I love you with my whole being, I could never imagine being with someone else…“

You whispered, feeling him hiccup against your neck. “I love you to…mommy”, he whispered in return, making you smile against his hair. “I made you apology breakfast…-“ “I think I want to skip to the dessert”, you teased him, kissing his earlobe gently, before pulling up his shirt over his head.

You felt like you needed to take care of your babyboy today. “First…I think I have to remind you how much I love you baby…”, you whispered, brushing your finger down his stomach.

The way he looked up at you was reason enough why you could never imagine someone else in your life.

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[garbbitch]

Can you write something about reader and Julien being friends forever and ignoring their mutual pining (which is obvious to everyone around them) until one day one of them finally breaks?

mutual pining

julien x reader (roomate)

fluff!

i hope yall like it

i feel like she would try to be subtle, and it would work most of the time until lucy or phoebe were around cuz they would obviously know she likes you

you would be subtle too but also would be super blushy and stuff when you guys talk.

i feel like she would call you little pet names, nothing that’s too specific like baby or honey or babe or something super specific to relationships but she def calls you princess or sugar and she always does it by accident, like it even surprises her when she says it

i can also imagine her getting you coffee in the morning on her little morning walks (as mentioned on gayotic) and you want to think that means something but you convince yourself it doesn’t

i feel like you (a character i’m constructing… go with it) would bake her stuff, cookies and brownies or something

i feel like julien wouldn’t know if your queer or not which is why she doesn’t make moves, you’re kinda femme and she hates to make assumptions but she also doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. i feel like the convo about you being queer would happen in a super lowkey setting and it wouldn’t be a big deal

you guys would be at a party or something like that and some random guy would hit on you, (🤮) and you would be visibly annoyed or disgusted by him (cuz he’s a man, honestly so real) and you would be looking around for anyone to ‘rescue’ from him, he wasn’t doing anything other than talking to you, but julien was watching him this whole time anyway. jealously. so your eyes would pan over the room, you would see jo and naomi and kelli all goofing off in a corner and wouldn’t be able to get any of their attention, then you’d look over to katie and lucy who were also not looking your direction and wouldn’t get see that you clearly needed someone to get him to leave you alone cuz no matter what you said he wouldn’t let up. then you’d look over at phoebe and bo who were also not paying attention to where you were and then you’d see julien who seemed to be burning holes into the back of the guy’s head. she would come over as soon as you looked at her. “hey, you ok?” she would say as she walked over to you, casually placing her hand on your waist. you would respond saying you’re ok or something and then she would try to make a joke “not your type?” i feel like she would try to make you more comfy as he walked away or something by cracking a joke. and that’s when you’d say something like “definitely not, i pretty much only like girls” and she wouldn’t react but like i feel like she would ask what your type is, and you would probably say it just depends.

also, going back to when lucy and pheobe make it obvious, i feel like it would go over your head or you wouldn’t want to think too much of what they’re saying. cuz like if they’re wrong somehow you don’t wanna mess things up with her

they’d say stupid shit like

“you look really nice in that dress, what do you think julien?” and obviously she would immediately blush and try to say something that wasn’t stupid

if the whole group were at a party i feel like lucy would dance with you to make her jealous

i feel like julien would compliment you a lot, not in a weird way, but in a cute way

it would obviously make you blush like crazy and she again wouldn’t think anything of it

pheobe would get so frustrated watching yall flirt with each other that she joked she couldn’t stand to be around the 2 of you

but omg the moment one of yall “break” it

so cute

i feel like it would be another night that you had tried to go to bed early but you were feeling restless so you got up to sit with julien while she strummed her guitar

“hey sleepyhead.” she said as she strummed the guitar softly. you would probably huff dramatically. “i am not a sleepyhead.” you would protest for the umpteenth time and she would chuckle like she always did, how could she not. “what’re you doin up so late?” she asked you as she sat the guitar down and tapped she seat next to her. “couldn’t sleep” you said back to her avoiding her eyes. “playing anything new?” you asked her a second later. “nah, just strumming. why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked as she turned to face you. “i dunno, busy mind i guess” you said, sorta lying. not that your mind wasn’t busy, you were thinking about her… again… big surprise! you were running over the little moments that you didn’t know if they meant something or not. “wanna talk about it?” she asked wanting to help if she can. “i dunno i’m overthinking stuff… it’s whatever” you say back to her still avoiding her eyes. she reached over to touch your hand as you fidgeted with your fingers. “can i ask about what?” she asked gently as she rubbed your hand softly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. you would sit there and try to think of the correct thing to say about it, you don’t want to make things awkward or uncomfortable. “i dunno if i should say.” you say quietly as you stare at her hand on yours. “you don’t have to, but you also don’t have to worry about talking to me.” she would reassure you as she stroked your hand softly. you took a deep breath feeling a little anxious about putting it to words. "i was thinkin about you." you said softly, avoiding her eyes and trying to not get more embarassed by what you said. realization dawned on her as soon as she heard it. when she didn't say anything right away you panicked and immidiately back pedalled. "'m sorry- i shouldn't have said that. i get it if you d-" you started to ramble and she cut you off with a kiss. you immidiately shut up and didn't stop the kiss, you gently touched her face. she gently broke the kiss a moment later. she stares into your eyes as if she's looking for uncertainty. "i- wow- we should've done that sooner." you said with a soft giggle. she chuckled too. "i should've asked you out." she said softly. you blushed a little and she gently stroked your cheeks with her thumbs.

you guys have a long talk about what you guys want out of a possible relationship.

a couple days later you guys go on a cute date

she brings you to a party at lucy's house and neither of you hear the end of it from lucy and phoebe.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA CONTINUES

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1

next: part 3 part 4 part 5

a continuation because I have no impulse control and am in dire need of more Aeolus content

first of all, let's establish one thing - and I think we can all agree on that - Aeolus loves to fuck with people. they are a benevolent(-ish?) trickster deity, and they revel in harmless pranks

as a consequence, they are on pretty good terms with Hermes. while Hermes doesn't care much for the 'small fry' and doesn't pay that much attention to the wind god most of the time, Aeolus has their winions follow the messenger god religiously (pun intended), because? where Hermes goes, shenanigans always follow.

so when they get the tea that he's apparently hanging out on that one random Greek island, playing nanny? oh, they know it's gotta be good. so naturally, they go to check it out.

well, turns out that Athena is also there, and both of them are sooo bad with babies, it's hilarious

Athena, holding baby!Telemachus: Ehhh, shouldn't it be eating more meat? it's body is so weak, it can't even hold a spear! Hermes, exasperated: oh my me, 'thena, that's not how humans work!! babies eat liquids first!! how can you not know that!! here you go, champ, drink some wine!! Aeolus, hiding in the leaves: holy shit these guys are dumb

so now they can't just leave Telemachus alone with Athena and Hermes! they might not be an expert on child rearing, but surely they can do better than those two dorks! and the baby is adorable.

so they decide to stick around. just for a little bit. a week tops.

fast forward a few years, and they have been raising the prince of Ithaca

Aeolus: *shocked pikachu face*

and Aeolus is the much needed chaotic good influence to Hermes' chaotic neutral and Athena's lawful neutral.

the thing is, Aeolus is really good at hiding. so good, in fact, that no one but Telemachus had even realized they are here. everyone else just thinks that the prince has an invisible friend which, well… they're not wrong?.. and it's not like other kids are exactly lining up to be his friends anyway, cause everyone thinks he's weird (or their parents don't want to catch the attention of the suitors)

and the gods think that it's because they hang around too much and Telemachus can't make friends because of them. so maybe they try to spend less time in Ithaca, for his own good. which only makes things worse, because now the boy is upset, and Aeolus and winions have to try extra hard to cheer him up, which pisses them off.

Athena & Hermes: oh, goodness us, we shall try not to interfere too much with the mortal affairs, so that the young prince grows up healthy and happy ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Telemachus: (T⌓T) Aeolus: ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

and then they have to subtle bully the two dumb fucks to come back.

on a less serious note, Aeolus also has a sweet tooth, especially for marshmallows (idgaf there weren't any marshmallows in Mycenaean Greece, they're a god. they can make all the damn marshmallows they want)

and of course, since they are sooo generous, they always share with Telemachus.

what they don't know(?) is that winions, who all get their own treats, also collectively share them with the baby, because they are secretly evil adorable little freaks.

which results in a very hyper prince sugar rushing seemingly out of nowhere.

Telemachus, running all around the palace and crackling madly: I AM SPEED- Penelope, unimpressed: and who, pray tell, had given my son sweets right before dinner? Athena, equally unimpressed: yes, I would also like to know. Hermes, sweating nervously: heyyyy, why are you all looking at me like that???? ( ಠ‿ಠ ) Aeolus, from behind a tree, unseen by anyone: (｡•̀U-)┘

Hermes always gets blamed.

It's the only time he doesn't do the thing

and he's seething, because nobody believes him.

[dolladooley]

the dooley davenports x black!reader | general hcs

contains: adam, bree, chase, leo

a/n: this will get zero notes but idc i am pioneering ts for lab rats. gif credit goes to him (me. bc i am him.) 💯

adam

i have always been very loud about my belief that adam marries a black woman or man in the future

and i mean LOUD

he 100% does

the first time he meets u he's like woah

prettay

he likes watching how your hair bounces as you descend the stairs or even just walking on flat ground

he likes how u speak to him

you call everyone lil nicknames so whenever u say "baby" he's like 😃

u help him with school stuff

bc you smart 💯

okayyyy scholar 😍😍😍

sorry

anyway

he loves seeing u

you anchor him

keep him from doing ridiculous shit that can get him hurt yk

turn into ur mom fr

he fidgets with his fingers a lot so he be playing in your hair

gently pulling strands so they spring back and wrapping em around his finger (ESPECIALLY when they're freshly moisturized and wet)

y'all are just saur cute to see

he's a big hugger so he rests his cheek against ur head and ur lil curls tickle him

and bonus points if you're significantly shorter than him

it's an adorable image when u hold hands

bc ur this lil person that is clearly able to easily escape restraint and u got ur tall white boy that's a lil dumb but happy to be here with u nonetheless

i love adam lawd

bree

bisexual queen

anyway

u guys become friends very quick

she complimented ur jewelry (a lil gold necklace) and u were like "aw thanks gang"

and from that u sparked a conversation and became very good friends very fast

she introduced u to her brothers, allat

u guys meet in the library every morning or u go to the nearby coffee shop before school starts

get some polite lil drinks and just.. talk :)

if you guys were to pack ur own lunches every day, y'all would do snack trades a lot

you defend her a lot against her brothers 💀

the first time you said "boy shut up" to chase she got hearts in her eyes fr /hj

when she realizes she might have a lil crush, she doesn't act too strange but she is a little bit different

she hugs for a little longer than normal, just to enjoy the scent of ur moisturizer and ur hair products

when y'all have sleepovers she always cuddles close

she loves to cook with u

u show her recipes you got from ya mama and she enjoys them every time

she stares at ur lips when u eat

and talk

and

do anything at all

they are very kissable what can she say

chase

lord.

he's infatuated

INFATUATED

he only knew leo so he had no idea black ppl could be so fine /j

the first time he sees you, a little notification in his eyebawl goes off like "heartrate rising. entering cooldown." and it's SO LOUD to him

turns out you and leo are already friends

which is NOT helpful

because now whenever you're at the house he's frantic as hell

either trying to interact with you (extremely awkwardly) or hiding in the lab so he doesn't embarrass himself further

bree would come down like "just go talk to them loser" and he's like "I CAN'T 😭😭😭😭😭😭"

when she finally forces him to quit being a punk and at least say hi, he comes upstairs to see u looking out at the view

the sun shining through their big ass windows glows gold on your skin and to him you look like a god

he flees /hj

HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO ACT

he eventually pulls himself together and soon feels like a fool

because talking to you is SO EASY ?

you exude a charm he has never seen heard or experienced from anyone else before

the way u speak to him makes him melt

that being said never call him a pet name

ever

a simple "sugar" or even just "baby" will make him overheat and shut down

leo

i'm already laffing

y'all are funny as SHIT

you were classmates before the davenports came in but you weren't really friends until after they did

you helped leo show them around the school and the two of you cracked plenty of jokes along the tour

many that the bionic trio did not understand LMFAOO

you two are so fun together and everyone can see it, even the trio who be fighting for they lives whenever y'all are speaking to each other /j

leo probably tells u ab the whole bionic secret after you witness one too many close calls and the way you handle it makes his baby crush grow exponentially

like YOURE SO COOL???? DIDNT EVEN BLINK AT THIS ABSURD ASS PIECE OF INFORMATION???? GOD THEYRE COOL AS FUCK

you guys share hair information and you bring home hotel shampoo's for y'all to share LMFAO

he let you give him waves once

it was comedic

tasha loves you

she didn't know you for a while because leo never brought you up when y'all were just classmates but after y'all became actual friends, you'd get mentioned here and there

the first time he has you come over is to work on a school project

she meets you and is like omg hai i'm leo's mom

and he's kinda like 😐 pushing her away like he did in the avalanche episode with janelle LMFAO

you like "why you so mean to yo mama" and it makes him sweat /j

you like tasha too and you guys often have tea together when leo is late for y'all's lil hangouts

she gasses you up to leo all the time like he didn't know you first

"your friend, [name]? they're cute!!!" "i know mom" "go ahead and ask that out" "MOM"

he eventually does (it was actually you but he tells tasha it was him)

[thebunnednun]

LOYALTY [Chapter 5]

Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader

Summary:

Your ex tries to kill you and now your boss is throwing his hat in the ring too. Good thing Katsuki is here.

Songs: Pour it up by Rihanna Don't tell em by Jeremih feat. YG

As always this is a mature story so minors DO NOT INTERACT!!

TW: Abusive relationships and violence.

---------------Chapter 5: Same Assholes, New Beginnings--------------

Michael was actually the one who turned the stream off as you sat up again, yawning. That was close. You couldn't sleep in this room, even if it was cute. She helped you up and got you situated in your own room, the one that felt safer, even if it wasn't the most comfortable. The package from him was still in the trash, and you weren't sure if there was a police station open this late.

"That was close," Michael said, her tone a mix of concern and exhaustion. "You sure you want me to sleep in the bed with you?"

You nodded, the fear still clutching at your chest. "Yeah, that freaked me out more than I want to admit."

Michael shuddered as she put her bonnet on, settling into the bed beside you. "I told you we should've gone to the police earlier. What if that thing has a tracking device? I know some guys at the club that would love to do us a favor."

You shook your head quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved. "No, no, no, please. I don’t want anyone else dragged into this."

She sighed, bouncing into the bed to get comfortable. "You need more color in here. It looks like a minimalist beige mom spray-painted everything neutral."

You huffed some air before finally taking off that damn itchy wig. You shook out your real hair before grabbing the matching bonnet Michael had gotten you, sliding it on with a sense of relief. "Well, you try living with a creep who throws your stuff out and controls everything you wear and own. I should really burn those clothes."

Sliding under the sheets, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you. Michael joined you, leaving the night light on, knowing how much you hated the dark now. Ironically, that was part of his quirk—a dude with psycho strength who could shoot blasts of light from his hands. A flashy quirk, indeed. But when you acted up, he would shroud the entire place in darkness that felt so heavy you couldn’t do anything except curl up and cry. His apartment was so blindingly white that it made you sick constantly.

Yours, though... was a little different. Thanks to quirk marriages, you had two quirks. Much like the pro hero Shoto, you could wield both water and fire. If you were hydrated enough, you could even conjure ice. To think, you shared almost the same quirk as the #3 hero of Japan. 

It was so fucked up. 

You actually had an unused hero license sitting in your drawer. No, literally. That’s how the fucker found you—a small, emotionally vulnerable girl with a shitty home life in a student exchange program. You gave up your career before it even began because of "love," which was really just his small dick ego ruling you again. 

But the truth was, you didn’t think you had the stomach for it anyway. The injuries pros got made you sick, and the idea of your comrades—your friends—dying? God, you couldn’t do it. That’s how you ended up as a marketing manager, finding all the good shots of heroes to promote them to the next top whatever. Especially your main project: Kyoya, aka " Unyielding," hero known for his indomitable spirit and sportsmanship, who embodied the ideals of chivalry and justice. 

Fucking poser. 

Promoting someone like him felt like a way to stay connected to the hero world, even if you couldn’t be a part of it the way you once dreamed. 

What was all of that for, anyway? Who would want a Pro Hero who couldn’t even fight off her own boyfriend—her fiancé at that? Who stayed in a shitty relationship longer than she wanted to, just so she wouldn’t have to be alone or move back home to get her ass handed to her by her parents. Parents that kicked her out three months before graduation, when she needed them the most. It was a miracle you didn’t have any siblings to go back for; at least they didn’t have to suffer through the same hell.

A Pro Hero who has to strip and entertain weirdos on the internet for money because that same ex was blocking all her job opportunities. The same ex who, according to office gossip, had already moved his new girl into the old apartment and was letting her do whatever she wanted to erase every trace of you. 

The bed you slept in, the photos you hung up, the little decorations you picked out with so much care—gone. Replaced by her, some woman you never met, who probably didn’t even know your name. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? Being erased like you never existed.

Yeah, some hero to look up to.

You lay there, the weight of it all pressing down on you like a boulder, making it hard to breathe. The room felt suffocating despite its size, the walls closing in as the thoughts spiraled deeper. The candle’s gentle flicker was the only source of warmth in the cold void you felt yourself slipping into. The soft glow that once felt comforting now mocked you, reminding you of what you could never truly be—a light in the dark. Instead, you were just another shadow, hiding behind a screen, pretending to be something you weren’t.

Michael shifted beside you, her presence a small comfort in the darkness. But even she couldn’t reach that part of you buried so deep, the part that still ached for something more, something you were beginning to doubt you’d ever have.

It was all just so fucking pointless.

You and Michael settled into the bed, the weight of the day finally lifting as you both let out matching sighs of exhaustion. She rolled onto her side to face you, her dark eyes soft and full of understanding.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, a tender smile playing on her lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you murmured back, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. The warmth of her touch grounded you, even as the memories of the past threatened to pull you under.

You both said your little prayers, whispering words of gratitude for the small blessings you still held on to—each other, a roof over your heads, the strength to keep moving forward. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get you through the night.

As you lay in the dark, the familiar feeling of dread crept in, but you pushed it away, focusing on the steady rhythm of Michael’s breathing beside you. Eventually, sleep took you, but it wasn’t peaceful.

You dreamed of suffocating darkness, of hands that grabbed at you and a voice that whispered lies in your ear. You were trapped, no matter how much you struggled, unable to escape the cold grip that held you down. Then, suddenly, you woke with a start, your heart racing and your breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

It was 6 a.m., the room still cloaked in the early morning shadows. Michael was holding you, her arms wrapped protectively around you as if she had sensed your distress even in sleep. You took a shaky breath and snuggled back into her embrace, feeling her warmth seep into you. She didn’t say anything, and neither did you. There was no need for words; the silent comfort of her love was more than enough.

Her alarm went off shortly after, breaking the silence. Michael groaned softly, reluctantly pulling away from you to shut it off. She stretched, her muscles flexing as she prepared for her morning workout routine.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving her a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if looking for any sign of doubt, before finally getting up. “I’m heading to the gym. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both got ready in the quiet morning hours, the sounds of the city slowly waking up around you. The ritual was familiar, almost comforting in its routine. You dressed in your office clothes, something professional but with a touch of lipgloss—a little armor to help you face the day. Michael was ready in no time, dressed in her gym gear, hair tied back, and eyes focused. She was always so strong, so put together, and it made you feel a little stronger too.

The train ride was uneventful, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence as you stood side by side. The city rushed past in a blur, but you barely noticed, lost in your thoughts. When your stop came, Michael leaned over and kissed you on the cheek, a quick, reassuring peck that made you smile despite the nervous flutter in your stomach.

“Good luck,” she said, her voice warm.

“Thanks.” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you stepped off the train. The office loomed ahead, and you squared your shoulders, determined to get through the day.

Today, you had a meeting with your boss, presenting a new marketing plan for Koi Fish. It was just another task, another hurdle to overcome, but it felt like a mountain. You could do this. You had to do this. With a final glance at the receding train, you turned and walked into the office, ready to face whatever the day would throw at you.

You step into the office, the sterile scent of coffee and paper filling the air as you walk down the hallway. The click of your heels on the tiled floor echoes with each step, but it’s the sudden hush that catches your attention. Eyes turn toward you—some wide with surprise, others narrowed in curiosity or judgment. It’s as if they didn’t expect you to show up today, or maybe any day.

You offer a polite nod to the receptionist, who quickly looks away, pretending to be busy with her screen. The quiet whispers and sideways glances follow you as you pass by your coworkers, their conversations halting mid-sentence. It’s a familiar feeling, but it doesn’t sting any less. You straighten your posture, your heart thudding a little harder in your chest, and keep your eyes forward.

At your desk, you set down your bag and pull out the notes for your presentation. The marketing plan for  ‘Koi-fish’ sits at the top of the stack, the bright, serene colors a stark contrast to the tense energy around you. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task ahead. But the weight of the stares and the unspoken questions hang over you like a cloud.

A colleague, who usually avoids eye contact, suddenly looks at you with a mixture of pity and confusion. "I didn’t think you’d actually be here today," he says, his voice low as if trying not to be overheard.

You offer a small, strained smile. "Why wouldn’t I be? Got a job to do, right?"

He nods slowly, but his gaze lingers a moment too long before he turns away. You can feel the judgment in the air, the silent questioning of how someone like you, with your history, could still manage to show up, put on a brave face, and keep going. 

The pressure in your chest tightens, but you push it aside. Today isn’t about them or what they think. It’s about getting through this presentation and proving to yourself that you can still do this. 

You glance at the clock on your computer screen. Just a little while longer until the meeting. You can handle this, just like you’ve handled everything else. One step at a time.

You scan your badge and make your way to the top floor, the familiar hum of the elevator a small comfort as you brace yourself for the day. The doors slide open, and you're immediately greeted by the sight of your mentees, their faces lighting up as they spot you.

"You're here!" one of them exclaims, rushing over to hug you.

You laugh, returning the embrace. "Of course I am. Now, let's get to work, soldiers."

They fall in line with exaggerated seriousness, but the warmth in their eyes is unmistakable. You take a moment to savor the connection before heading to the conference room.

Inside, you find your boss, Mr. Yakimoto, Kyoya's manager, and his assistant, Mia. She looks relieved to see you, though her frazzled expression suggests a stressful morning. The last figure in the room is a girl with a sharp, confident presence—another hero, no doubt. Her posture is rigid, her eyes tracking your every move.

"Good morning," Mr. Yakimoto says, gesturing to an empty seat. "Please, take a seat, and we'll get started."

You nod, moving to the chair, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on you as you settle in.

The discussion quickly turned to recent popularity polls and media outlets. Mr. Yakimoto highlighted the positive trends, noting how Kyoya's recent public appearances had garnered significant attention. Kyoya's manager chimed in, mentioning the upcoming announcement from the Hero Commission about the newest top heroes. The excitement in the room was palpable as they discussed the magazine interviews being set up and how the makeup crew was already booked for the shoot.

You let your mentees take the reins, presenting the finer details of the new marketing strategy you'd been working on for Kyoya. They were confident, well-prepared, and delivered their points with a professionalism that made you proud. But as they spoke, you couldn't help but notice Kyoya's gaze. He was staring at you— intently —to the point where it felt like he was trying to drill holes into your skull with his eyes.

At first, you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on your team’s presentation. But his unwavering attention began to make you uncomfortable. You saw him nudge his manager, but the gesture went unnoticed, leaving him to continue his silent, intense observation.

It wasn’t long before others started to pick up on it. Mia glanced at you with concern, and even Mr. Yakimoto paused mid-discussion, his eyes flicking between you and Kyoya as if trying to decipher what was going on. The tension in the room thickened, and your resolve to ignore him faltered for just a moment as you locked eyes with him.

What was he trying to convey? And why did it feel like everyone else was just as confused as you were?

The tension in the room was palpable, growing thicker with each passing second of Kyoya’s unyielding stare. You could sense the confusion spreading among your team and the others present, and it wasn’t long before someone finally broke the silence.

"Um, why is—" a voice chimed in, cutting through the room’s awkward energy. It was her —the girl he left you for. Her name was Sayuri Minami, also known by her hero name, Gleaming Siren . She had an aura that commanded attention, much like Minerva Orland from Fairy Tail . Sayuri was tall and slender, her curves accentuated by her hero costume, which hugged her figure in all the right places. Her long, wavy hair was a striking shade of midnight blue, cascading down her back, and her eyes were a bright, almost unnatural shade of gold. Her presence was as alluring as it was intimidating, her beauty undeniable but her personality... not so much.

She interrupted one of your mentees mid-sentence, her voice carrying a slight edge of disdain. You quickly jumped in, your protective instincts kicking in to shield your mentee from her venom.

"Excuse me, but I believe they were speaking," you said, keeping your tone firm yet professional. The room fell silent as Sayuri’s golden eyes narrowed at you, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Oh, I’m sorry," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought maybe we should focus on what’s actually important here."

Her comment was clearly aimed at belittling your mentee’s contribution, but you refused to rise to the bait. Instead, you maintained your composure, ignoring the slight. But Sayuri wasn’t finished. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she continued to make little comments, her eyes flicking toward you with a calculated glint.

Finally, after a particularly pointed remark, you’d had enough. You turned to her, your expression calm but your eyes sharp. "Sayuri," you began, your voice cutting through the air with precision, "what exactly do you mean by that?"

The room went dead silent. Sayuri blinked, clearly caught off guard by your direct approach. For a moment, she seemed to struggle to find her words, her confidence wavering as all eyes turned to her. She let out a small cough, her poised demeanor slipping.

"I—uh, I just meant..." She faltered, her golden eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think I need some water."

Without waiting for a response, Sayuri hastily excused herself, practically fleeing from the conference room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

You took a breath, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, and returned your attention to the presentation. Your mentees looked at you with a mixture of relief and admiration, clearly grateful for how you had handled the situation. Kyoya, on the other hand, was still staring at you, his gaze unreadable but intense.

It took all your self-control to ignore the feeling of vindication settling in your chest. The meeting wasn’t over yet, and there was still work to be done.

The meeting wrapped up with a final round of discussions, everyone contributing their last thoughts on the upcoming hero rankings, magazine interviews, and promotional strategies. You made sure to direct the conversation back to your mentees, giving them the space to shine and showcase their hard work. As the room began to clear, you offered each of them words of encouragement.

"You all did great today," you said warmly, pulling them into a small huddle. "Your presentations were clear, your points were solid, and you handled yourselves with professionalism. Just remember to keep refining those pitches and be ready for any follow-ups. I’m proud of you all."

Your mentees beamed at the praise, their earlier nervousness melting away. You gave them specific feedback, pointing out where they excelled and where they could improve. They nodded, soaking in every word, clearly eager to keep learning and growing.

As they dispersed, gathering their things and chatting excitedly amongst themselves, you were about to make your exit when Mr. Yakimoto’s voice called out to you.

“Ms, a word before you go.”

You turned back, already dreading what was to come. Your instincts told you that this wasn’t going to be good. With a steadying breath, you walked back into the conference room where Mr. Yakimoto waited, his expression grim. Kyoya’s manager, Ms. Hayashi, remained seated as well, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Please, sit,” Mr. Yakimoto said, motioning to a chair across from them.

You complied, sitting down with your back straight, your hands clasped in your lap. Your eyes flicked between the two of them, sensing the tension.

“We’ve been reviewing recent events, particularly the footage from that... incident at the charity event,” Mr. Yakimoto began, choosing his words carefully. “As you know, the security tapes and video footage of that evening have gone missing. Given the importance of that event and the subsequent fallout, this is a serious issue.”

You kept your expression neutral, even as your heart began to pound. This wasn’t just a meeting; this was an ambush.

“Ms. Hayashi,” he continued, nodding toward Kyoya’s manager, “has requested that you be removed from Kyoya’s team. However, Kyoya has been... unusually adamant about keeping you on board. This puts us in a difficult position.”

You remained silent, letting him finish.

“Because of these complications, and due to recent budget cuts,” Mr. Yakimoto said, his tone now more clipped, “we have no choice but to place you on a temporary suspension, effective immediately. During this suspension, you will not receive pay. Furthermore, if you are found to have had any involvement in the disappearance of those tapes, you will be terminated, and there could be legal repercussions.”

He gave you a look that was meant to be a warning, but it only fueled the fire in your chest. “Consider this a friendly warning,” he added, as if that softened the blow.

You stared at him, your face unreadable. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” you said calmly, standing up. The implication was clear—you were going to find a lawyer.

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your strides purposeful. You kept your head high, refusing to let them see how rattled you were. As you approached the elevator, you pressed the button, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

The doors slid open, and you stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall as you let out a breath. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand shot out, stopping them. The doors reopened, and Kyoya stepped in, his expression unreadable.

“Hold up,” he said, his voice low.

Your heart rate spiked, and you instinctively prepared to defend yourself. It had been a long time since you used your quirk, but you were ready to blast his face with fire if it came to that. You weren’t about to let him beat you to death in an elevator.

He stood close, too close, and his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Did you get my package?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

You shrugged, trying to gray rock your way out of this situation. “I get a lot of packages.”

His frustration grew with each attempt at conversation. He tried to needle you with small talk, but you kept your responses curt and uninterested. Finally, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a nasty whisper in your ear.

“You know, I’ve missed you. Missed the way you used to—”

You shoved him back, your hands sparking with the threat of fire. He took it in stride, a twisted smile curling his lips. “I always loved and hated this part of you.”

You wanted to spit on him but held back. You knew that if you assaulted him right now he would have you arrested so fast that it would make your head spin. The elevator doors finally opened, and you shoved him out with all your strength. As the doors close, your work phone dings. It’s a message from an unknown number: 

“You still got a sweet ass.”  

You screenshot it, making a mental note to report it to HR later. Now, you ran from the building, wishing you had your car, "Lemon," to take you home. Michael would be at her office job until five and then sleep until ten before getting ready for the club. You would be going too tonight and then doing your live stream afterward. You needed all the money you could get if you were being suspended or worse—fired.

Would it even be that bad at this point?

Just like two weeks ago, you ran all the way home, adrenaline pushing you as you bounded up the stairs two by two, unable to wait for the elevator. You burst through your apartment door and found the package in the trash. You'll clean the mess later; now you  change into your sneakers and before locking the door tight and racing to the nearest police station.

You sprint through the streets, your heart pounding in your chest, not from fear but from sheer adrenaline. The nearest police station is a 20-minute walk, but you cut that time in half, your legs pumping as though powered by some secret third quirk that only activates when your heart’s been shattered by an asshole. Whatever it is, you let it fuel you, pushing your feet faster until you reach the station.

You pause outside the doors, trying to catch your breath, fixing your flyaways and composing yourself. As you enter, a blast of cold air hits you, the AC a stark contrast to the heat of your run. You make your way to the receptionist's desk, ringing the little bell. A moment later, an officer with a dog head—likely a hybrid quirk—appears, his expression friendly yet professional.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" he asks, his voice calm and reassuring.

You offer a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady. "Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I was wondering if I might have some assistance. You see, I recently broke up with my ex-fiancé, and he changed the locks on our old apartment while I was at work. Our previous landlord delivered this package to me, and... I’m not sure what's inside. Given our bad history, I thought it would be safer to open it here."

Just as the officer opens his mouth to respond, the doors burst open behind you. The room fills with a sudden rush of energy and noise as Pro Heroes Ground Zero, Red Riot, Deku, and Shoto burst in, dragging several apprehended villains behind them. The villains are a mess of bruises, cuffs, and defiance, clearly the result of a failed attempt at robbing a jewelry store in Tokyo.

Ground Zero—Bakugou—looks as fierce as ever, his usual scowl deepening when he catches sight of the villains. Red Riot stands beside him, his unbreakable form looking no worse for wear. Deku is talking rapidly to Shoto, who remains stoic, though there’s a hint of frost still clinging to his right side. The sight of them is both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

The officer's attention shifts momentarily to the heroes, but he quickly refocuses on you. "That sounds like a wise decision, ma'am. Let's take a look at that package in a safe area. Please follow me."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden influx of hero energy in the room as the officer leads you to a more secure part of the station. As you walk past the heroes, you can’t help but glance over. Bakugou’s sharp eyes flicker in your direction for the briefest moment before he turns his attention back to the villains, barking orders at one of the officers.

The package feels heavier in your hands as you follow the officer, the anxiety of what might be inside creeping back. The sight of the heroes reminds you of how far you’ve come, and yet how close you still are to the past you’re trying so hard to escape.

As you follow the officer, the package in your hands starts to feel unnaturally warm. At first, you think it’s just the lingering heat from your sprint, but then it begins to burn, the temperature rising quickly. Panic flares in your chest, and you know you have to act fast.

Without thinking, you drop the package onto the floor. You scream, your voice cutting through the noise of the bustling police station.

"ICE IT!"

Shoto, who was mid-conversation with Deku, snaps his head toward you, his mismatched eyes narrowing in confusion. For a split second, he hesitates, unsure of the situation. But then he sees the package on the ground, its surface now glowing a dangerous red.

In an instant, his left side surges with cold, and a blast of ice shoots from his hand, engulfing the package in a thick layer of frost. The officer, realizing what’s happening, tries to rush around the protective glass, his eyes wide with alarm.

You don’t wait to see what happens next. You instinctively move backward, away from the package, when suddenly, you feel two large, hot hands wrap around your waist. They’re strong, pulling you backward with surprising speed and force. Your feet leave the ground as you’re yanked away from the imminent danger.

Just as you’re pulled clear, the package explodes with a deafening bang. The sound reverberates through the station, and shards of ice and debris scatter across the floor where the package once lay. The protective glass shakes from the force of the explosion, but thankfully, Shoto's ice had contained most of it, preventing any serious damage. The overhead sprinklers activate causing a downpour of water on you and the others present. 

But that’s not what’s on your mind right now. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize you’ve been pulled into someone’s embrace. You glance up and meet the fierce, determined gaze of Ground Zero. His hands are still wrapped around your waist, his body shielding you from the blast. His expression is a mix of frustration and relief as he looks down at you.

"You okay?" he grunts, his voice rough but not unkind.

You nod, still shaken but unharmed. "Y-Yeah, thanks..."

Before you can say more, Bakugou releases you, turning his attention back to the aftermath of the explosion. Shoto approaches the now ruined package, his eyes scanning the remnants, his breath still coming out in cold puffs. The other heroes and officers quickly move to secure the area, checking for any further dangers.

The officer who had been helping you earlier finally reaches your side, his face pale with concern. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I’m fine, thanks to him," you say, glancing at Bakugou, who is now shouting orders to the pro's.

He catches your gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say, "Be more careful next time." Then he turns away, already moving on to the next crisis.

You can’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and embarrassment as you process what just happened. The memory of Bakugou’s hands around your waist lingers, along with the realization that your ex’s threat had just escalated to a whole new level.

The noise in the lobby only grows as more officers rush in, their uniforms a blur of navy blue as they move to take the villains into custody. Shoto and Deku follow the officers, their expressions grim as they keep a watchful eye on the apprehended criminals. The scene is chaotic, but everyone moves with practiced efficiency, ensuring that the situation remains under control.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Red Riot rushes over to you, his usual bright smile replaced with a look of deep concern. His red hair is slightly tousled from the recent scuffle, and his sharp, crimson eyes scan you from head to toe, checking for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle despite the intensity of the situation. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but careful, as if he’s afraid of hurting you.

You nod, still a bit shaken but grateful for his concern. "I’m fine, just a little rattled. Thanks to Ground Zero and Shoto, nothing worse happened."

Kirishima’s worried expression softens into a small, relieved smile. "Good, that’s good. You were really brave back there."

Before you can respond, the officer with the dog head—his name tag reads "Sergeant Inu"—steps forward, his demeanor calm but authoritative. "Ma'am, if you could follow me to the back, we need to collect a statement from you about what just happened."

You glance back at the scene in the lobby, now being secured by the heroes and officers, before nodding. "Of course," you reply, ready to cooperate. The adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but you know that giving a clear and accurate statement is crucial.

Sergeant Inu gestures for you to follow him, and you fall in step behind him as he leads you through a side door into a quieter, more private area of the station. As you walk, you can feel Kirishima’s eyes on you, his protective instincts still on high alert.

"Don’t worry," he says, giving you a thumbs-up as you turn to look at him. "You’re in good hands here."

You manage a small smile in return, appreciating his attempt to lift your spirits.

Sergeant Inu leads you to a small, dimly lit room with a table and a few chairs. It’s quieter here, the noise from the lobby now a distant hum. He motions for you to take a seat, and you do so, trying to steady your breathing.

Once you’re settled, Sergeant Inu sits across from you, pulling out a notepad and pen. His eyes are kind but serious as he looks at you. "Alright, ma'am, let’s start from the beginning. Can you tell me everything that led up to the moment you came into the station?"

You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. "Yes, I can," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. And so, you begin to recount the events of the day, from the unsettling package to the terrifying moments just before the explosion.

As you speak, the gravity of the situation starts to settle in. Your ex-fiancé had escalated his harassment to a dangerous level, and now it was clear that you couldn’t handle this alone. You would need the police, legal help, and possibly even the protection of heroes to navigate what was to come.

'Fuck me.'

You follow another officer through another series of winding hallways, finally arriving at a smaller, more private room. The walls are bare except for a few motivational posters, and a single table with two chairs sits in the center. The room feels like a stark contrast to the chaos of the lobby, with its quiet and clinical ambiance. A detective gestures for you to sit down, and you take a seat, your hands trembling slightly.

As you settle into the chair, the officer begins to prepare for the questioning. He sits across from you, his expression a mix of professionalism and concern. “We need to get a full account of what happened today, ma’am. If you could start from the beginning…”

You nod, trying to steady your nerves. “I received a package from my old landlord. My ex-fiancé had the locks changed on our apartment, so I didn’t have access to it. The package was delivered to my new apartment, and I brought it here because I was concerned about its contents.”

The detective takes notes, nodding as you speak. “And why did you think it was necessary to bring it here?”

“I was worried about what might be inside,” you explain. “Given my history with my ex, I didn’t want to take any chances. He has a… history of controlling and abusive behavior.”

As you recount the events, Bakugou and Kirishima watch from behind the glass. Kirishima’s brow is furrowed in concern, while Bakugou’s gaze is locked onto you, his eyes narrowed in thought. He had requested you be brought to the back because something about this didn't sit right in his gut.

Meanwhile, Todoroki and Izuku enter the room, their expressions serious as they join the others.

“What happened?” Izuku asks, his concern evident.

“Apparently, the package was sent by her ex,” Kirishima explains to Todoroki and Izuku, who have just joined them. “She doesn't want to give his name, but she’s had a pretty rough time with him. He’s got a record of abuse.”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, glancing back at you through the glass. “Is that why you’re so focused on her, Bakugou?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on you. “Just… keep watching,” he mutters.

Inside the room, the officer continues his questioning. “Do you have any idea what was in the package? Why did it get so hot?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “But when I noticed it getting warmer, I asked for help. I didn’t want to risk it hurting someone or something.”

As you speak, the door to the room opens, and Red Riot—Kirishima—enters, looking more relaxed now that the immediate danger has passed. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Hey, just checking in. Are you sure you’re alright?” He slides you a cup of water and you take it gratefully. 

You nod, offering him a small smile in return. “I’m okay. Thanks for your help earlier.”

Red Riot glances at the officer, then back at you. “I’m glad you’re safe. If you need anything, just let me know.”

The detective continues with his questions, but your mind keeps drifting back to the earlier events. You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu, particularly when Ground zero was pulling you back. You try to ignore it, focusing on answering the officer’s questions as clearly as you can.

Meanwhile, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Izuku watch from behind the glass. Bakugou’s eyes are fixed on you, an intense look of recognition in his gaze. Kirishima continues explaining to Todoroki and Izuku, who are both listening intently.

There’s something about you that’s nagging at him, something that feels familiar. He watches as you sit down, your hands nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a mini pencil skirt that hugs your curves, paired with a peachy button-down shirt. The sweater you had on earlier is gone, likely due to the water from the ice blast, and your hair is slightly damp, clinging to your face in soft tendrils. Even though you’ve clearly been through a lot, there’s an undeniable poise to you, an elegance that doesn’t waver even under pressure.

But it’s your eyes that keep pulling him in. There’s something about them—a mix of warmth and vulnerability—that stirs a memory deep within him. He’s sure he’s seen them before, met you somewhere before. The feeling gnaws at him, refusing to be ignored.

Izuku notices Bakugou’s intense focus and raises an eyebrow. “Kacchan, you okay?”

“I’m fine, nerd.” 

Your voice remains steady as you speak, but there’s an underlying tension, a fear that you’re trying hard to keep in check. You’re jiggling your leg under the table- probably from nerves. 

Wait.

Fuck he really needed to start sleeping again. He could have sworn he’s seen those legs before. Bakugou’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches you, his mind racing to connect the dots. There’s no way he’s going to let this go. 

As the questioning wraps up, the detective informs you that they’ll be taking measures to ensure your safety. They discuss options for protection and keeping you secure, given the potential threat from your ex. The room feels a little oppressive now, the weight of the situation still hangs heavily in the air.

But you don't want to give more details than you have to and he's getting frustrated. Just before you’re about to leave, the detective places a protective detail on you, ensuring that you won’t be left alone. You feel a sense of mixed angery and lingering anxiety as you prepare to head out. "I believe I did say no thank you."

Bakugou watches you leave the room, his expression unreadable. The memory of your eyes, the way you looked today, and the connection he feels but can’t quite place—it's all gnawing at him. 

And he was gonna get to the bottom of it. 

The detective looks taken aback as you decline the offer for protective help. “Are you sure you don’t want us to arrange something? It’s important to stay safe.”

You sigh, feeling the weight of your decision but knowing it’s the right one. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather just have a report made of today’s events. I don’t want any special treatment.”

The present officer’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why would you refuse protection? This is a serious situation.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Because… I don’t have much evidence against my ex. And… well, he’s about to become a top 10 pro hero.”

The revelation hangs in the air, causing a ripple of shock among the officers and the pro heroes observing from behind the glass. The detective's eyes widen, clearly stunned. “He’s a pro hero?”

You nod, your expression a mixture of resignation and frustration. “Yeah. He’s got a high rank in the hero community. I’m worried that the law and the public won’t be on my side. They might think I’m just making things up or trying to bring him down.”

The shock on the detective's face is palpable, and he glances nervously at the pro heroes behind the glass. Kirishima, who had been standing quietly, looks even more concerned. He turns to Bakugou and the others, a look of disbelief on his face. “Unmanly.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, his concern evident. “That’s serious….”

Todoroki looks at you with a mix of sympathy and anguish as he remembers his own mother. “If he’s a pro hero, it’s even more important that we handle this carefully. We’ll have to contact Jiro and Momo to see what they can dig up.”

Bakugou’s gaze is still locked on you, his expression shifting from one of confusion to something darker. He’s clearly grappling with the gravity of your situation and the impact it has on how he views you.

The detective nods, his demeanor now more serious. “We’ll make sure your report is properly documented. It’s unfortunate that you’re in this situation, and we’ll do what we can to assist.”

As the officers begin to prepare the report, you thank them and leave the room, feeling the weight of the earlier confrontation and the new revelations. The pro heroes behind the glass continue to watch you with concern, each processing the news in their own way.

You exit the station, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. The thought of Kyoya trying to kill you has you in a daze and you realize that you should’ve asked for a business card at least or a ride home. The reality of your situation weighs on you, but there’s little time for reflection as you start running again. All but kicking the doors open, you change quickly into a fresh outfit, a look that blends professional and alluring, ready for the night at the strip club. The urgency of needing money for your uncertain future drives you, and you race out the door, determined to make the most of the evening ahead

As you make your way to the club, the world outside seems to blur into a mix of neon lights and distant chatter. The adrenaline from the day’s events still pulses through you, adding to the electric anticipation of the night. The stakes are high, but you’re ready to face whatever comes your way, fighting for your future with every step you take.

You burst into the club’s dressing room, the familiar hum of activity immediately subdued by your presence. The other dancers, already in their pre-show routine, turn in unison, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern as they see you. Micheal, her phone pressed to her ear, ends the call abruptly and hurries over.

“Where were you?” she demands, her voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been calling you for hours!”

She throws her hands up into the air before dropping them down onto her hips.

You sit down heavily, your body sinking into the plush couch as the other girls crowd around you. Their hugs are a comforting blanket against the storm of emotions raging inside you. You take a deep breath and start recounting the day’s chaotic events, your voice trembling but determined.

As you describe the unsettling encounter at the police station, some of the girls gasp in shock, their hands flying to their mouths. Others express their frustration more physically, punching and kicking the walls in frustration. Micheal, still holding your hands, looks at you with a fierce mix of concern and anger.

“Oh, fuck no!” Micheal exclaims. “You needed to report his ass!”

You shake your head, fighting back tears as the weight of the day presses down on you. “I literally can’t think of a worse way to get sold out as a sex worker while being unpaid and needing money for a lawyer when school is literally less than two weeks away!” You’re not angry, just overwhelmed, trying to keep the nausea and tears at bay.

You didn't feel up to performing tonight, you wanted to puke and to hide under your covers for a long time. There was an old burner phone with a google drive account that had pictures and videos of the abuse he put you through. It would show the dates of when things were taken and that was hidden inside a safe box in the bank. He didn't know about the phone, that was your best bet for some evidence.

Micheal was now your makeup with practiced ease and adjusting your wig until you look every bit the confident performer. You change into a lacey babydoll dress and silver heeled sandals, the outfit a mix of comfort and allure, better suited to help you feel at ease despite the circumstances.

Once you’re ready, Micheal gives you a supportive nod, her expression softening with a mixture of pride and concern. She offers her hand, and you grasp it firmly, drawing strength from her presence. The two of you head towards the stage, joined by Ruby, Pearl, Sapphire, and the other dancers who form a supportive circle around you.

You step onto the center floor with your troupe and the energy of the club envelops you.

Bakugou scanned the neon lit club, his sharp eyes catching every movement, every flicker of light from the scattered neon signs. The air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume, making his nose wrinkle in distaste. His grip tightened around the glass of whisky as he took a slow, measured sip, the burn doing little to soothe the irritation gnawing at him.

He couldn't believe he was here. This wasn't his scene—too chaotic, too noisy, and filled with people he couldn't care less about. Yet, here he was, all because he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that had taken root in his mind since the moment he woke up. His usual go-to corner was empty, devoid of your presence. It was unsettling.

A small part of him, the part he'd never admit to anyone, not even himself, had hoped you'd be here. That you'd be the girl from the station, even if that meant he'd have to confront whatever that meant for the both of you. But the more rational part of him, the one that kept him grounded, kept him from making impulsive decisions, was screaming at him to leave, to not get involved.

'What if she is?' The thought circled back, refusing to be silenced. He took another sip, savoring the warmth that spread through his chest, but it did little to quiet the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. 'What are you gonna do then? Drag her outta here and throw her in the back seat of the Ferrari?' He scoffed inwardly at the idea. He wasn't that kind of guy. He wouldn't force anything on anyone.

But he had to know.

He picked a seat at a center table, the perfect vantage point to observe without drawing too much attention to himself. Of course, that plan fell through the moment some idiot tried to claim the spot first.

"Hey man, I was sitting there—"

Katsuki didn’t bother with words, just turned his gaze, cold and sharp, on the guy. The idiot stiffened, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he faltered under Bakugou’s intense stare. “Never mind, it’s all good,” the guy mumbled, backing off with a hasty retreat.

Bakugou mused, his lips curling into a smirk for just a moment before his face returned to its usual scowl. He ignored the curious glances that flickered his way, dismissing them as irrelevant. He had one goal tonight—to find you, or to confirm that you weren’t here.

It took everything in him to remain calm, to not look like some obsessed stalker while his eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face among the crowd of strangers. 'Just a quick check,' he told himself, 'and then I’m outta here.' But even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

As the DJ’s voice crackles through the speakers, he announces the upcoming performance with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for a show you won’t forget! Let’s hear it for Marshmallow and Baby Doll!”

His eyes narrow when he sees the spotlight shift to the main stage. The DJ’s announcement fades into the background as the lights focus on the two figures stepping into the limelight. The first is Micheal, with her confident stride and dazzling smile. The second, clad in a similar lacey dress you wore earlier, makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s you.

The pulsating lights of the club dance across the floor, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that wash over the crowd. The beat of Rihanna's "Pour it Up" thumped through the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floor. The crowd's energy was infectious, feeding into your every movement as you both began to sway to the rhythm.

You and Micheal glide onto the stage, both wearing outfits that shimmer under the lights. Your flowy dress swishes with every step, and Micheal’s ensemble colors complement yours, making you both look like a perfectly matched pair. The audience’s cheers rise as you prepare to start your routine.

Micheal took the lead, her movements fluid and powerful, as she set the tone for the performance. You followed her lead, letting the music guide you as your body moved effortlessly, your hips rolling in time with the beat. The audience was captivated, their eyes glued to the two of you as you danced in perfect harmony.

Micheal spun around the pole with a graceful ease, her leg wrapping around it as she arched her back, her hair cascading down like a waterfall. You watched her with admiration, your own body moving to the rhythm as you danced beside her. The crowd was going wild, their cheers growing louder with every move.

As the song's chorus hit, you felt a surge of confidence. For the first time, you approached the pole, your hand gripping it as you spun around, your body following in a fluid motion. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers filling the room as you lifted yourself up, your muscles flexing as you held your body in a perfect split. You could feel their eyes on you, their energy feeding into your own as you moved with a newfound strength and grace.

“Throw it up, throw it up (throw up)

 Watch it all fall out (fall out)

 Pour it up, pour it up (pour up)

 That's how we ball out (ball out)”

Rihanna's voice echoed through the room, and you sang along, your voice blending with hers as you twerked and whined to the beat. You could see the girls in the front row screaming for you, their faces lit up with excitement as they threw bills onto the stage. You smiled to yourself, feeling a rush of pride as you worked the crowd, your every move earning you more cheers and applause. 

Sad bitches love money after all. 

In the background, Bakugou had been sitting at a center table, his attention laser-focused on you. The moment he saw you step onto the stage, his heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had come here to see if it was really you, and now that he had his answer, he was utterly mesmerized. When you performed the split and showed your strength on the pole, his breath caught in his throat.

 “Strippers goin' up and down that pole

   And I still got more money

   Four o'clock and we ain't going home

   'Cause I still got more money”

He stood up, pulling out three thick stacks of cash and placing them on the edge of the stage. The sight of the money caught your eye, and you slowed your spin on the pole, locking eyes with him. The connection was electric, a silent understanding passing between you as you decided to give him a show he wouldn’t forget.

With feline grace, you crawled across the stage towards him, your body moving with a sensual rhythm that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. The noise of the room faded into the background as you reached out, your fingers brushing against Bakugou’s cheek. His eyes darkened with intensity as you leaned in closer, your nails gently scratching under his chin, like you were petting a kitten.

 “The look in your eyes, I know you want some”

He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching as you ran your hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You could feel the tension between you, a spark igniting as you pressed your palm against his chest, holding his gaze. Then, with a smirk, you pushed him back down into his seat, the unexpected move catching him off guard.

 “Money on my mind

   Money, money on my mind

   Throw it, throw it up

   Watch it fall off from the sky,”

The crowd erupted in wild cheers, the noise crashing over you like a wave as you stood up, your eyes still locked on Bakugou. He sat there, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck, not from embarrassment but from the sheer thrill of the unexpected. You had just turned the tables on him, and the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t sure how to react. 

He didn’t give a shit you did that in front of the crowd, he just hadn’t expected it to feel so good . 

“Who cares how you haters feel

  And I still got more money

  My fragrance on and they love my smell

   I still got more money

   So who cares about what I spend,”

As you continued to dance, the crowd’s energy surged, and you knew that tonight, you had owned the stage in a way you never had before. Bakugou’s gaze never left you, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the woman on stage with the girl he once knew.

“I still got more money

  My pocket's deep, and they never end

   I still got more money

   I'm going dumb with all my friends,”

As the final beats of "Pour It Up" reverberated through the club, you and Micheal finished your routine with a flourish, your bodies perfectly in sync as the crowd roared in approval. The lights dimmed for a moment, giving you a brief respite from the intense spotlight.

Bakugou, who had been watching you intently, leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He flicked more bills onto the stage, one after another, until the DJ couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

“Shoutout to that blond dude over there that looks pissed off! I saw those 3 racks!”

The DJ announced over the speakers, drawing more attention to Bakugou. Almost instantly, the other dancers swarmed him, eager to thank their generous patron.

Bakugou’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance as he found himself surrounded by the other girls. “Oh, fuck no,” he muttered under his breath, trying to maintain his composure as they fawned over him. But despite the situation, he kept an eye on you, watching as you were swept up in a whirlwind of affection from your friends.

Micheal and Mugumi hugged you tightly, their excitement infectious as they squealed and jumped up and down with you still in their arms. Little Ruby was kissing your cheeks, her tiny hands cupping your face as she showered you with praise. You felt a wave of warmth and happiness wash over you, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in years. These women weren’t just colleagues; they were your support group, your friends, and the realization made your heart swell with gratitude.

As more of the businessmen around the club noticed the affection being shown to you, they began throwing more money onto the stage, eager to join in the celebration. Pearl—Casey—looked at them with thinly veiled disgust, her nose wrinkling as she observed their behavior. But before she could say anything, Sapphire gently hushed her, flashing a charming smile as she began to flirt with them, expertly keeping the mood light and playful.

The businessmen, already tipsy and loosened up by the atmosphere, made a request for another performance. The idea was met with enthusiastic cheers from the crowd, and you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air.

But first, you needed to clean up. You and the girls quickly gathered all the money scattered across the stage, stuffing the bills into your arms and purses before hurrying to the back. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, your mind racing as you headed to the dressing room.

Once inside, you moved with a sense of urgency, something gnawing at the back of your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You dumped everything from your work bag—a simple duffle—into one of the filing cabinets and locked it. Then, you stuffed the duffle full of the money, every last bill, before quickly hiding the bag in the ceiling tiles, pressing it into the narrow space with a surge of paranoia.

You took a step back, your heart pounding as you stared up at the hidden duffle bag. Something didn’t feel right, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Brushing off the unease, you forced yourself to focus, knowing that you still had a job to do. With the money safely stashed away, you could finally allow yourself to breathe, if only for a moment.

The noise from the club was muffled, but you could still hear the cheers and the music, the vibrations thrumming through the walls. You straightened up, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. The next performance was just around the corner, and the crowd was hungry for more.

The girls exchanged glances, concern flashing in their eyes as they caught on to your unease. Micheal leaned in closer, her voice a low whisper, “You know there’s no way the manager and bouncers won’t take a cut of that money otherwise, right?” Her words were a stark reminder of how things worked around here, and you could see the others nodding in agreement, their expressions growing grim as they remembered the last time something like this had happened.

“Fuck it, I'll quit tonight if that fat bastard thinks he's getting his hands on my money!” Sapphire declares with fierce determination. The room went silent, everyone turning to look at her in shock. Micheal, however, just smirked, giving her an approving nod.

“Nice to see you again, Eraza. Been a hot minute,” Micheal remarks. Sapphire—Eraza—smiles and rolls her eyes.

Ruby, ever the firecracker, jumped up and adjusted her bikini top with a huff. “Yeah, if they touch our money again, we quit and go to that club for pro heroes!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with the same defiant energy. The mention of pro heroes caught your attention, your mind flashing back to the scene at the police station earlier. You shook the thought off, focusing on the task at hand.

Determined, you switched into a two-piece set with a flowy skirt, the fabric fluttering around your thighs as you moved. You slipped a garter belt onto your left leg, the cool metal of the buckle pressing against your skin. A quick adjustment of your lipstick, and you were ready. “Then let’s milk them for all they’ve got,” you said, your voice steady, though there was a manic edge to your smile.

Micheal looked at you, her surprise evident. Concern flickered in her eyes, but she matched your smile with one of her own, albeit more tempered. “We go big or go home,” you added, and the others nodded in agreement, the tension in the room shifting into a shared resolve.

“Thank God, you don’t drink or do drugs,” Micheal murmured, her relief palpable. You giggled, the sound light and airy as you shook off the last of your nerves. 

After all, this was your moment, and nothing was going to ruin it. Not tonight. But as you stepped out of the dressing room, a chill ran down your spine, a sense of foreboding settling in your gut. You shook it off, knowing you had to keep your head in the game. Together, you all made your way back to the main stage, the energy between you electric.

The DJ whispered something to Micheal as you all took your places, the lights dimming around you. The atmosphere in the club was charged, anticipation hanging thick in the air. You could see your ash-blond regular still fending off the other women (and some men) who had latched onto him. They squealed and fawned over him, their voices rising in pitch as they practically screamed  obscene things, hoping to catch his attention. The dude looked like he was seconds away from blowing up the entire club, his patience worn thin, but the bouncers weren’t in any rush to step in and stop it.

The spotlight swung over to you and the girls, the crowd’s attention snapping back to the stage as the music began to pulse through the speakers. The DJ’s voice boomed over the microphone, announcing your return, and the crowd erupted in cheers. You could feel the eyes on you, the hunger, the anticipation. It was time to give them a show they’d never forget.

The beat of "Don't Tell 'Em" by Jeremih starts to pulse through the club, the sultry rhythm reverberating in your chest as you and the girls move to the music. 

“‘Rhythm is a dancer, I need a companion

   Girl, I guess that must be you

 ��Body like the summer, fuckin' like no other

   Don't you tell 'em what we do,” 

The stage lights flash, casting you all in a glow that enhances the sensuality of the dance. You and Micheal move in sync, your bodies swaying to the seductive beat as you act out the lyrics with every dip and roll of your hips.

As you dance, you catch sight of the manager emerging from his office, a thick cigar clamped between his teeth, the smoke curling lazily around his head. He surveys the room with a calculating eye, pausing as he notices the commotion at your regular’s table. His gaze shifts, locking onto you and the girls on stage, and then he gestures sharply towards the back, his intention clear. Panic flares in your chest, and you turn to flip your hair, a feigned act of confidence that’s really just an excuse to share a quick, panicked glance with the others.

You notice two of the bouncers beginning to move towards your mysterious regular and the last thing you want is for him to get caught up in some unnecessary trouble. You know how these things go: a misunderstanding, a few harsh words, and then it’s fists flying. And while his scars say he doesn’t seem like the type to shy away from a fight, you can’t bear the thought of him getting beat up for just enjoying a performance.

With a decision made in a split second, you glide off the stage and slip onto his table, moving with the grace and ease that you’ve perfected over the month. The flashing lights create an almost ethereal halo around your head as you approach, making Bakugou blink twice, his sharp eyes momentarily softened by the surreal effect. For a second, he thinks he’s seeing things—something divine in the way you move, the way the lights play tricks with the shadows around you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your cool hands pressing against the warmth of his skin, and you can almost feel the tension in him, the way his muscles coil tight under your touch. But instead of reacting violently, he gently places his arms around your waist, his hands resting on his elbows as if he’s hesitant to touch you too intimately, unsure if you want to be touched at all. The contrast between his careful, almost protective hold and the raw energy he radiates is striking, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Only is you got me feeling like this

 Oh, why, why, why, why, why

 Loving while grabbing the rhythm of your hips

 That's right, right, right, right, right,”

Bakugou’s heart is pounding, so hard he’s convinced it might explode again in his chest. It’s a sensation you make him feel often, this uncontrollable rush of something he can’t quite name—something close to panic, but sweeter, almost intoxicating. As he takes in the details of your appearance—the smooth curve of your waist, the way your hair falls just so—he’s hit with a wave of recognition. The way you hold yourself, the slight tremble in your legs, it all clicks into place. The same eyes he saw at the police station, the same waist he pulled away from that burning package, the same leg you lotioned the night before.

But your hair—it’s different. As you move closer, he realizes the truth. It’s a wig. The realization is oddly grounding for him, a piece of a puzzle finally snapping into place.

A few of the other dancers start to murmur, their voices laced with jealousy and spite as they badmouth you for hogging the attention. But you don’t let go, and neither does he. You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath sending a shiver down his spine as you whisper, 

“Usual spot?” 

You tilt your head up slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of those familiar eyes.

Bakugou has to shift a bit to get a better look at you, his mind racing as he connects all the dots. There’s no mistaking it now—those eyes, that leg, that waist. It’s you. The same woman from the station, the same one who’s been lingering in the back of his mind ever since. And now you’re here, in his arms, and he can feel the weight of the moment settling over him like a heavy cloak.

He can’t help but smirk, though, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he realizes just how many coincidences have led to this exact moment. But his thoughts are cut short as you pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. You’re still wrapped around him, but there’s something almost tentative in the way you hold each other— two people who don’t quite belong to each other but can’t seem to let go.

As the song begins to wind down, you both remain locked in that moment, the world around you fading into the background. 

But then, a voice cuts through the air, shattering the bubble you’ve been in.

“Funny. Real fucking funny, baby doll.”

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

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 4 is here

That was the first chapter! So far there are 9 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Farmer Bakugou x Gardener Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[scaly-freaks]

Daisy you can't just put an 'Aegon is the sugar baby au' out there and not tell us more????

I'm so sorry, this is going to be long

Okay so it's actually a really sweet AU. Amara isn't that rich, but she's 22 and hasn't lost her virginity yet and she just wants it gone, you know? But she also doesn't want to do it with anyone she knows because they're all losers and/or just not men she wants to 'gift' it to since it'll boost their ego way too much. She wants her V-card taken and also to learn how to have sex without any pressure or emotions or where is this going?

So...she clicks the first male escort site in London she sees. Ews her way through it because a lot of them are definitely just men who think 'oh yay, I get to fuck for money.' Aegon's profile seems very similar to them, but he does look like Billy Idol and she's always loved him, plus he jokes about his own height and says he makes up for it in inches elsewhere (in retrospect, it's not that funny but he's the cutest guy on there so she forgives it).

Anyway, he turns up without knowing what she looks like, and since she said she's pretty young, he's kind of expecting...well...you know. Something is up with her, and he's waiting to find out what (because his usual clients are older women, well put together, high-flying job who don't really care for or have time for relationships and he's a lovely piece of arm candy).

Turns up, sees her, eyes do the BOYOYOYOYING thing that cartoon characters do when they're in lust (love). She's like errrrrr shall I put the money on the table and he snorts and says if you want me to feel like a hooker on a street corner sure. She immediately gets embarrassed and apologises and he reassures her that it's fine, she pays his employer first not him, and that the rest of his clients tend to put a standing order up straight to his account once it's a set arrangement.

At that point she almost backs out because she's like god, what the fuck am I doing? And he can tell she's going to chicken out, but that'd be him losing money since there's no time to book anyone else in for the night. So, he says he saw board games down in the hotel lounge, and they can go play for a bit if she wants. She's like or we could get drunk, that way it'd be easier and he's like well no, because I'm not allowed to get drunk on the job, and I'm definitely not having sex with you if you're drunk, besides do you really want to forget your first time?

So they go downstairs, find a board game (maybe Cluedo because I like the funny little pieces) and start playing. Aegon talks to her the whole time, puts her at ease, starts asking about her life, uni, etc etc. Asks her why she chose to go with an escort for her first time, and Amara slowly opens up more and more because let's be honest, Aegon has TGC's charisma, he can charm anyone into relaxing.

She suddenly says she's hungry, and since she did pay him for the whole night (btw...he doesn't come cheap, it's £3000 for the night, so she definitely went impulse mode on this one), Aegon agrees and suggests the restaurant next door which is bougie and whatnot, but Amara disagrees and wants to go to the Turkish kebab place she saw on the corner.

Since they're both kinda dressed up, just imagine them squatting outside the brightly lit, neon sign of the fast food place sharing a kebab and gossiping about what they think the people in the block of flats opposite are talking about/doing (most of the windows don't even have curtains). Anyway, she's getting that pit in her stomach again, because now it's like...okay, at some point you're going to have to go back to the hotel and do it otherwise it's a waste of the money you spent. She doesn't say anything though, and Aegon is the one to gently bring it up and then she just nods and goes along with it. He kinda figures out pretty quickly that whereas his other clients are more than comfortable giving instruction and know what they want, it'll be the opposite with her. So, he slips into the 'leading' role so to speak and when they get back to the hotel, Amara tries to think of something to say to break the silence, but before she can, he kisses her. Like a proper 80s movie, pressing her into the wall, hands in her hair, the ideal first kiss of a girl's dream kinda kiss.

She whispers out an oh okay and he laughs and kisses her again because she's round-eyed, with this goofy expression of surprise, and her hands are clutching his wrists like a life line and well, why wouldn't you want to kiss her.

Anyway, whole bag of tricks comes out for the night. There's a hilarious moment where she panics and almost slaps him to get off when his fingers are inside her because she's never managed to give herself a g-spot orgasm so it felt like she was going to pee. But Aegon is like SHUSH and keeps her flat before going voila, see what did I tell you? He does it a couple more times so she can get used to the feeling, but that also has the drawback of making her tired and she's like okay, this was fun, now I'm going to sleep. And he's just there like ??????????? tf it is, you paid 3000 for the whole thing, and guess what, I'm giving you the whole thing (the whole thing being his dick ofc). Rouses her with kisses all over her body and suddenly she realises she's not that tired after all (well, would you look at that) and the actual virginity taking part happens. It's pretty standard for male escorts to take viagra but he doesn't for her because he's positive she's not going to be able to keep it up for long (at least not for her first time). Even SO, he manages to get it up again a couple more times after the first in pretty quick succession (that's never happened without the aid of drugs) so Amara gets to try several positions and actually have someone fuck her right, rather than fumbling with someone who lacks the practice.

Also something about Aegon in this AU is that he can't ever sleep with his clients for some reason. Insomnia strikes, and if they're asleep next to him because they paid for him to stay over, he's usually wide awake. But he conks right out next to her, and in the morning, gives her another round, which she forgets to even question whether that's extra (it's not, it was more his freebie to her shall we say).

And then she's all like OKAY THAT WAS FUN all hyper and bouncy and excited, because now she knows what sex feels like and she can finally just be relaxed and confident when she meets someone she likes. But Aegon has this weird pit in his stomach (just like she did last night) because he kinda doesn't wanna leave? He's experienced that with another client before, but this feels more pronounced, especially when he's sitting sleepy-eyed and smiling in bed and she's dancing around putting on her clothes after a shower. He almost wants to ask if she'll call him again, but that's against the whole etiquette thing of the agency so he doesn't say a word, but he really hopes she will.

Weirdly enough, Amara is the one that ends up saying she won't because she really just impulse purchased him and her parents have money, but not the kind of money where she can afford Aegon whenever she wants (plus they'll get suspicious if she asks for that set amount off them regularly). But realistically, she doesn't even want to call him again, because she genuinely saw this as a transaction, and that's what hits him like a truck. Usually, he's the one who has to keep the clients from getting attached. But last night, when she was under him, all whispery and nervous and doll-eyed, he fell into the mistake of letting it feel too real in his head, and now she's the one who's completely disconnected herself now that the job is done.

ARGHRGHRHGRHGRHG I actually don't know where else it would go from here, but the first night felt vivid af in my head when I saw those photos of TGC.

anyway, here's pictures of tom that perfectly fit the vibe and since i don't have a set face claim for amara, have the drawing i drew (again)

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[shuffle play]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist!]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

OMG GUYS GUYS GUYS! I really want to have some fun with some stuff here, and I really want to hear more from you guys! So, let me introduce you something new to my blog (of course inspired by other amazing writers) SHUFFLE PLAY - AKA, Bingo!! For fanfic of course... anyways!

here is the bingo card:

And if you need it, here's twenty-five prompts!

"I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly."

"Try to stay quiet, alright darling? We're in public, you can't act up like you do in bed."

A: "You need to behave!" B: "Behave? Baby, you don't like it when I behave."

"I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me."

"No, you can't touch me, that's your punishment. You have to sit there and watch."

"Why don't you put that pretty mouth to use for something else, hm?"

"I swear, honey, you look so much better with my cock in your mouth."

"I love you darling, I do, but I fucking love when you get all cock obsessed for me."

"No, no don't do that! I'll be good, I promise!"

"What, does that feel good? Hm? Tell me how good it feels."

"Who said we had to have sex on the bed?"

"Oh my darling girl, I have to mark you -- I need to show everyone who you belong to."

"It's okay to cry, darling, I know it's out of pleasure. Come on, show me how good I make you feel. Cry for me."

"We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"

"I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that, darling. Come on, scream for me."

"What? Don't stop on my account, I'm enjoying the show."

"Do you think they heard us?" "Yes. We did."

"Don't you know the hat rule, darling? Take a cowboy's hat, you're in for the ride of your life."

"Don't be gentle. I want it all."

"Please, please- I'll be good, I just need to fuck you."

"You're such a good girl/boy, honey. I think you deserve a treat."

"First one to make a noise loses, and I know how much you hate to lose."

"You know I hate it when you tease me, darling."

"Never knew such a slut would like this so much."

"We're in public, y'know."

EVERYONE I WRITE FOR IS LINKED HERE! DON'T BE SHY TO ASK IF I WRITE FOR A CHARACTER! If requests don’t go well, I will do it on my own, but I really want you guys to interact and have a choice!! Let me know if you have any questions :)

UPDATE (06/14/23) I wanted to make sure that it was clear this will be BLACKOUT bingo! All spaces will be used!!

How to request: Just send in a request starting with: "BINGO: (space name) with (character name) and prompt (#) and a brief overview or description on what you want to happen in the fic! Please remember that fics might take me a while :)

Requests as of 06/09/23 MUST include a please and a thank you!!

Additional characters that I can think of are Ethan Landry, Dave Lizewski and other characters from the fandoms listed in my main masterlist ♡

AGHHHH AS OF JUNE 14TH 2023, WE GOT OUR FIRST BINGO WITH:

'HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS' with Dylan O'Brien 'YANDERE' with Finnick Odair our 'Freespot' 'MOMMY KINK' with Ethan Landry and 'SPOILED RICH READER' with Stiles Stilinski!!!

SECOND BINGO AS OF JUNE 16TH 2023 WITH:

'HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS' with Dylan O'Brien 'OUT OF THEIR LEAGUE' with Ethan Landry 'WEDDING NIGHT' with Andrew Garfield 'SOULMATES' with Finnick Odair and 'SPOILED RICH BOY' with Finnick Odair!!!

All fics are listed in the masterlist!!

THIRD BINGO AS OF JUNE 29TH 2023 WITH:

'FRIENDS TO LOVERS' with TASM! Peter Parker 'SUGAR MOMMY' with Spencer Reid 'HIMBO' with TASM! Peter Parker 'YANDERE' with Finnick Odair and 'FANTASY AU' with Finnick Odair!!!

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

Oh, and I think that's it! I hope you enjoy, and please, don't be shy requesting! Please make sure to check reblogs for updates, there's a tab in the notes to see them :)

with love, asteria ♡

© asterias-record-shop

[pocketramblr]

AU! Inko having a sugar baby arrangement with Giran that accidently resulted in Izuku. Izuku has no idea who his father is, and Giran doesn't find out he has a son until later when the League captures Izuku instead of Bakugo.

oh good the antidote to Nao in Situations... Giran Simping!

1- I think Inko kept the sugar baby arrangement up with several others since, runs an OF, wrote some steamy novels under her OF name, that sort of thing. got an little online boutique she's started more recently with her designs for plus size clothes and underthings. Izuku is generally aware of his mother's career and is fine with it, and is also fine with Inko working to keep most of it out of his sight. just another one of those potentially awkward things they're accustomed to but don't talk about. like his mysterious father. or his seeming lack of a quirk.

2- seeming, as he lacks the toe-joint that says he's quirkless for sure, but nothing obvious has ever shown up. he's smart, but not unnaturally so. none of the mental quirk tests led anywhere. he isn't officially recorded as quirkless, but he assumes that by now he's got to be. Huh anyway weird that he is able to specifically remember instances of quirk use with perfect clarity because he's interested in it, able to analyze what he saw even if it was only once, and also, the weird ofa memory stuff- but we'll get to that

3- so izuku's got a fairly normal life, gets bullied, sludge villain, etc etc etc. And then he gets OfA. and then UA gets attacked. And then UA throws a sports festival anyway. and then he gets brainwashed. And then he sees weird ghostly figures behind All Might! But All Might says he's seen them before too, and they can't interact. just glimpses of the people who used to wield the quirk. Izuku's seen them earlier than he did, probably either the quirk being stronger or an effect of brainwashing. Ok, cool, normal. Iida tries to kill a serial killer, less normal. The next night, Izuku has a vivid dream of scolding some child named Kotaro for drawing on his teacher's desk in permanent marker. not normal at all. He has no idea where it came from. but it keeps happening. Strange dreams- not every night, maybe a few times a month, but each time vivid and unlike anyone he knows. It isn't until he's patching up a shirt in a dream, when a man opens the door and says "Bruce! We got a lead on All For One- and his brother!" that he realizes what he might be seeing. Nervously, he brings it up to All Might, who agrees it sounds like flashes of the past users he can see, but not interact with. after all, the dreams just play out as memories with him unable to change anything. But its probably just because of how strong OfA is now, with Izuku's practice charging it up more! "It's a wonderful sign, young Midoriya, and I hope you have good memory dreams tonight. You're going to the mall with all your classmates tomorrow, right? and camp is next week! Who knows what you'll pull out of that quirk next, incredible."

4- the mall... happens. And so does camp... and Dabi ends up with Izuku instead. Shigaraki complains loudly about not getting the one on the take list. Dabi complains loudly about how he didn't see Shigaraki doing any work on that mission. Izuku- well he doesn't complain, but he does ask pretty loudly why Kacchan was on the list, and Shigaraki goes "oh, friend of yours? i guess we can keep you alive long enough to lure him here." and Izuku has just enough preservation to point out he's pretty sure that won't happen. He does, however, end up chained to a chair, still in horrible pain due to his broken bones, listening to Shigaraki on the phone asking some guy for intel on him and Kacchan.

5- About an hour later, a guy walks in with a file of papers and shoves the top one at Shigaraki. Shigraki reads the paper. Looks at the new guy. reads the paper again. Looks at Izuku. Decays the paper. Tells the new guy he's got ten minutes, and orders everyone out. Izuku notes that Kurogiri is still there. New guy, who smells like cigarettes when he gets close to Izuku, stares at him. Izuku isn't sure what he's looking for, but he glares back. New guy huffs. "Well, you're certainly Inko's, at least." That gets a reaction from Izuku. Shoulders tense. Eyebrows narrow. "How do you know my mom?" "Well, kid, I'm an intel broker. That give you any ideas?" "My mom wouldn't go to a crook like you for information." He's right. "Right. Now come on, be smart kid. If we weren't meeting on account of my job, then...?" Izuku blinks. His mother's? but- no. Absolutely not. "Mhm. If i can remember my old password to get into this account i can show you the old messages we had... dated about seventeen years ago. You're just sixteen now, aren't ya?" New guy, who Izuku strongly hopes is lying, fiddles with his phone, typing something. "And I trust Inko to be professional, loyal. So there's an eighty percent chance, at least." "Eighty percent chance of what?" "What's your quirk, kid?" It takes Izuku too long to say "Superpower." New guy laughs. "Now if I knew Inko well, and I did, then 'superpower' is not the name she would have given the name of a quirk that powered her toddler's bones... but you didn't have that quirk back then. What's your real quirk, not the one you just got this year?" Izuku is pretty sure that Shigaraki's teacher is AfO. He knows about OFA, obviously, though Shigaraki doesn't. This guy may or may not. So instead of answering, he just shrugs. "Let me guess. You didn't have one, or, something about remembering? Maybe forgetting? Attracting memories, that'd be a fun combo, hah. Or, quirkless, like I was before, you know... we each found an in." Izuku tries to glare again, but... well, the memories in ofa are a new thing... and quirks can have strange activators... "Ah! Here we go!" New guy, who Izuku would rather not think of as 'eighty percent chance of being his father', moves around the chair and angles his phone down in front of Izuku so he can see the screen. Instead of old messages, there's a notepad. He scrolls slowly so Izuku can read. The writing on it says "look. we both know AfO wants your quirk. But he isn't going to try and get it until Shigaraki's done with you, so play along, maybe some info here and there to 'lure' the bakugou kid to you. even odds the heroes get here first and you're fine. if they don't, i can get afo to spare your life. not your quirk, but he'll let me keep my son. you can't fight out of here, i'm the only out. but you can't tell anyone about this deal. Not the heroes, not the other villains. got it?" Izuku stares at the note. "Do you get it, kid?" The broker asks, quietly. Izuku is pretty sure he's going to fight a way out anyway, but for now... "Got it." "Good." The broker stands up and walks back in front of him, "Izuku, right? Open up." Izuku starts to ask why and gets a cotton swab in his mouth for it, then before he can bite on it to break it it's out again, tucked into a bag then a pocket. "What was that for?" He snaps. "Well, gotta make sure, right? eighty percent isn't one hundred." "And if i'm not?" "Then Inko will owe me one hell of a favor." "... And if I am?" "Then you will." The broker shrugs, turns to go. "Wait-" Izuku starts, then isn't sure where to keep going. The broker looks at him. "What's your name?" The broker laughs a little. "Ah, good question. What'd Inko call me?" Izuku tries to remember. She didn't usually, but he thinks there was one time when it was someone else asking... "Hisashi?" "Hisashi." The broker repeats. "Ah, see, that's poetic! Much more the kind of name Inko would come up with. She's a great writer, you know." Izuku glares so hard that the broker who's definitely not actually named Hisashi makes his way out of the room without another word.

+1- when Shigaraki comes back, he orders Kurogiri give him something strong enough to wipe that mental image from his mind, and then starts asking Izuku about his friend. And his friend's weaknesses. Izuku is unimpressed and he almost forgets his maybe-dad's plan- "Kacchan is really strong, he doesn't have many weaknesses, since he's so practiced with his quirk that-", but only almost, "I don't know, i scared him with a spider once. but we were like, seven. and i guess i wanted to send him a whole box of spiders after he stole my all might-"..... Shigaraki latches on to the 'wait, he stole things from you? potential for crime? i knew it' thing, Toga latches onto the spiders box thing, and so does Dabi but he does it in the opposite direction, complaining that spiders is so basic, and by the time he was seven, he had already tried to murder his baby brother. Magne then asks "wait, you tried to kill a baby? not succeeded? you failed to kill a baby?" which Dabi then responds by reminding her of her less than stellar ratio of successful kills. Compress asks for one of whatever Shigaraki is having, and swipes his' drink too. Spinner keeps trying to sneak closer to Izuku to ask him questions about Stain, and Izuku is slowly starting to feel like he might actually survive long enough to escape or be rescued before he is either turned to dust or tortured for his quirk.