#besides the fact that i am seething with rage right now so no one piss me off cause i will do some stupid shit

[burnedbyshoto]

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero. 

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping. 

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again. 

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed. 

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for. 

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch. 

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too. 

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick. 

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it. 

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!” 

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist. 

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay. 

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again. 

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you. 

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you. 

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Hey Ray! Could you write some soft Schlatt stuff? Soft or angsty really both are good!!! There’s just not enough schlatt content out there for me to spam my friend with. (I’d say go for soft things but my friend is an angst queen) thank you!!!!!

-🌻

I love Schaltt so much and am kind of sad that I don’t get the opportunity to write for him more lol. And how about a compromise? How about something angsty with a happy ending??? Did not mean for this to be as long as it is but it happens lol. Hope everyone has a great night, this is the last drabble for the night! More to come tomorrow!!

TW: Schlatt throws a glass bottle at you and a few curse words

So we’re going to say that you and Schlatt are engaged okay? So you and Schlatt have been together for a really long time server hopping. You kind of let Schlatt pick the places you go because you never really cared as long as you were with Schlatt you were happy. So when you moved to the DreamSMP you were honestly just kind of vibing. You quickly met Quackity and he very quickly became your best friend. You almost had a stroke when Schlatt announced he was running for president. (Joke intended lol). But Schlatt was a failed businessman who never showed any interest in politics so when he told you he was running for president of L’Manberg, you were super shocked. But nonetheless you helped him campaign and supported him 100%. And when Quackity told you that he was going to give all of the votes that Swag2020 got to Schlatt you actually began believing that he could win this thing. And to your absolute surprise, he did just that. He won. JSchlatt won. Your failed businessman of a fiancé actually won the presidential election of L’Manberg. You didn’t necessarily agree with his first decree, but you being the loving and supporting person you are, you stood behind your lover 100%, even when Wilbur stared at you with pleading eyes to do something. You forced yourself to look away and turn your attention to your fiance who was now celebrating with Quackity… Everything was good. Everything was happy…. 

But after the election, things started to get… bumpy. The presidency began to take a toll on Schlatt and instead of turning to you with his problems, he turned to the bottom of a liquor bottle. It really hurt. It hurt that he felt he couldn’t lean on you and come to you for support on these things. He would come home really late and leave really early so you didn’t see him at home. So you tried really hard to be there for him. You would swing by his office and try to get him to talk to you, but he would only shoe you out, or have Tubbo escort you out, claiming he had a lot of work to do. You’d try to convince him to go on walks or dates with you, but he would again just brush you off and tell you to go away. Finally you’ve had enough and so one night you stay up. You don’t fall asleep when you usually would and you wait for Schlatt to come home. He comes home at like 1:30 am, stumbling in through the door, barely able to stand on his feet with an almost empty glass whiskey bottle in his hand. “Welcome home,” You greet coldly, standing up from the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. Schlatt’s head snaps to you in surprise and he rolls his eyes before he takes a swig from his bottle, “What are you doing here?” He grumbles, wiping his lips after he drinks. You can’t help but let out a scoff and move around the room toward the wall farthest away from him. “Really? You come home drunk off you ass, barely able to stand up, and the first thing out of your mouth is ‘What are you doing here?’ Unbelievable” you spit out, rolling your eyes and leaning up against the wall. Schlatt grumbles something under his breath, slams the door shut and glares at you, “Hi!” he cheers in the fakest peppiest voice you’ve ever heard, “How was your day? Is that what you wanted to hear?” “Yes actually. I would have loved to hear my fiance ask me how my day was! But no, instead I get a bitter fiance who only cares about himself greeting me” you seethe, extremely pissed off at how he’s acting. Schlatt lets out another scoff, “Oh really? Only thinking of myself? You’re the one who wanted me to ask you how your day was, seems pretty selfish to me” he slurs, tipping the bottle back and taking another drink. You cannot believe the words you’re hearing. He really thinks you’re selfish for wanting him to ask you how your day was. “It’s selfish of me to want to talk to my fiance? It’s selfish to want him to look at me for more than three seconds? To talk about our days like we used to? To fall asleep in the same bed again and wake up just the same? That’s selfish?” “Yes! It is!” He blurts out, “I’m the president now and this country needs me and-” “Your the president but it doesn’t mean that you have to ignore me!” You finally shout, sick and tired of him not listening to you. But the raise of your tone sparked fire in Schlatt’s eyes and his voice booms right back, “I never wanted to be president, but you made me! This is all your fault! Being president does mean that I have to ignore you because I have to do the things that come with this goddamn job I didn’t even want!” “If you didn’t want to be president why did you even run?!?” You scream back at him. “Because you made me! I hate you!” He screams before hurtling the now empty bottle at you. It’s like slow motion. You watch the bottle fly from his hand and slowly fly in the air toward your face. You can hear yourself scream in terror as you're able to just barely duck in time for the bottle to shoot over your head and smash against the wall, thousands of glass shards falling to the ground. 

It’s silent. As you stand back up, tears are filling your eyes, but you’re able to see the horrified expression on Schlatt’s face. It’s obvious his actions have sobered him up and he now has a clear mind. “Y/N” he chokes out the whisper of your name, such a stark contrast from the volume level just a moment earlier. “Get out” you whisper back, a single tear falling down your cheek. “Y/N” he tries again, taking a single step forward, but you flinch back, your slipper stepping on the broken glass behind you, “Get out” you repeat a little louder. When he makes no move, you begin screaming again, “GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!” You scream as you sob. Again, Schlatt remains frozen in place, the whiplash of him being so drunk he can barely walk to him being sober due to him hurling a bottle at his lover has his head hurting and unable to move. When he doesn’t move, you do. “Fine, I’ll get out” You then quickly walk past him toward the front door. Schlatt catches your wrist, “Y/N, wait please” he begs, tears starting to form in his eyes. You rip your wrist from his hand, “Don’t fucking touch me Schlatt” you spit hatefully at him, “I’ve done nothing but wait for you for these past few months and now I’ve finished waiting. You’ve missed your chance” and then you’re gone. 

You run, and I mean run, to the nearest house, which just so happens to be Quackity’s. To your surprise, the light is still on. Before you can even knock, the door swings open and Quackity has pulled you into a warm hug. “I heard” he simply whispers in your ear. And it occurs to you that the two of you were in fact screaming at the top of your lungs at each other. “I’m sorry” you whimper in his shoulder, truly feeling bad for waking him and probably a few others. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you now, let’s get you inside”. Quackity takes you in for the night, offering you a cup of your favorite hot liquid before tucking you in his own bed. When he tries to leave, you grab his wrist, “Stay… Please” you beg. Quackity hesitates for a moment before climbing in bed beside you. You snuggle yourself into him and put his arms around you so he was holding you. It felt really nice to fall asleep in someone’s arms again, especially your best friend’s arms. 

The night goes a lot rougher for Schlatt. He’s the most sober he’s been since he won the election. He has a raging headache and his heart aches, but he knows he deserves it. Schlatt stands there staring at the door for a long time. “Any minute now,” he thinks to himself, “any minute they’ll walk through the door and hug me and tell me they forgive me” but he knows that he’s just kidding himself. When the clock hits 3am he finally looks away from the door. Schlatt lets his eyes roam the living room and they freeze on the glass pile where you stood just a while ago. His heart thumps heavily in his chest and he has to swallow harshly to get the lump out of his throat. He did that. He threw that. Not only did he throw that, he threw that at you. His love. The best thing that had ever happened in his life. He had screamed that he hated you. Quickly, Schlatt rushes forward, drops to his knees and stupidly begins picking up pieces of the shattered glass. He thinks that if he can clean it up, if he can put it back together again, you’ll come back. You’ll come back to him and forgive him and everything will be alright. A sharp pain shoots through his hand causing him to drop all of the glass he’s collected. Deep maroon liquid pours from his finger causing Schlatt to let out soft curses. He quickly uses his other hand and wraps it around the bleeding finger, rises and walks to the bathroom. He holds the bleeding finger under running water while he struggles to pull a band aid out of the cabinet. “God. Y/N would be laughing at me so hard right now. Then they would just float in here and take care of me themselves…” he thinks out loud, “Fuck!” He curses harshly as he thinks about how bad he’s fucked up with you. He manages to get himself bandaged up before he takes a few painkillers, even though he really knows he deserves to hurt. He stumbles his way into the bedroom and flings himself down on your side of the bed, he really just wants to be comforted by you, even though he’s been so shitty. But Schlatt quickly becomes confused when it’s rather cold and does not smell like you at all. He lets out a sigh and rolls over onto his normal side of the bed and is immediately overwhelmed with the powerful scent of you on his side of the bed. The tears return to his eyes as he realizes that you spend every night on his side of the bed in hopes of getting even just a little piece of him. He sobs himself to sleep, face buried in his pillow that smells just like you. 

You wake that morning very confused because you wake up in someone’s arms. As you peel your eyes open, you take in messy black hair and the peaceful face of your sleeping best friend and the events of last night wash over you in one big memory wave. Hurt and sadness fall over your feelings again because you think you lost your fiance last night. You don’t get much time to ponder over it because Quackity’s eyes peel open and connect with yours. “You were watching me sleep. You fucking creep” He teases before letting out a huge yawn, moving his arm off of you and stretching. “I was not watching you sleep. I was simply staring at you while I was lost in my own thoughts you dork” you tease right back, also throwing your arm up to stretch. Quackity laughs and rolls his eyes, “Whatever creep” You roll your eyes at him in return, “Whatever’s right dork.” You two lay there for a moment before breaking out in giggles and pushing each other’s shoulder. It felt nice to laugh with someone while laying around in bed again. It felt nice to be happy. After a moment, you two climb out of bed. Quackity gives you some clothes of his to change into so you didn’t have to walk around in your pajamas. You change in the bathroom and do what you need to do before you Quackity in the kitchen for breakfast. You have a nice breakfast together, but as you eat there’s a knock on the door. Quackity gets up and opens it, “Tubbo! What can I do for you?” “Have you seen Y/N? Schlatt wants to see them so he sent me to find them. So have you seen them?” You can hear the young boy ask from the front door. You hear Quackity hesitate at the door, not sure if he should tell Tubbo where you are. So you stand up and walk into view. “Hello Tubbo” you greet the small boy kindly. His eyes light up at you, “Hello Y/N! Schlatt is looking for you! He’s in his office at the office! Shall I escort you to him?” He asks. It’s obvious he has no idea what’s going on. You give a little head shake and take a deep breath before you answer, “No it’s okay. Tell him that I’m having breakfast with my best friend and that I’ll… I’ll meet him afterwards. But also tell him that if he shows up here, I won’t talk to him ever again” Tubbo’s eyes widen slightly, but he gives you a small nod and a smile, “Okay. I’ll let him know Y/N” Tubbo then turns on his heel and runs off toward the office. Quackity shuts the door and turns to you with a concerned look on his face as he rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Are you sure you want to do that?” “No” you admit, “But I really should. It’s the adult thing to do” Quackity lets out a small laugh, “Then you’re more adult than I’ll ever be… Come on, let’s go finish breakfast” 

The two of you have a lovely breakfast together, but the whole time you’re thinking about what it is you’re going to say to Schlatt once you are in his office. Quackity gives you a tight hug before you leave. You metally prepare yourself on the short walk over to the office building. What you’re going to say, how you’re going to react, you know typical mental argument planning things. You take a deep breath once you’re in front of the door before you raise your fist and knock. “Come in” his deep voice calls from the other side of the door. You slowly open the door, step inside, and close the door behind you before you look up and meet Schlatt’s eyes. You feel your breath catch in your throat. He looks terrible. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, his hair is a mess, the bags under his eyes were extremely dark… It was obvious he had gotten very little sleep last night.  ‘Good’ a voice whispers in the back of your mind. Schlatt scrambles to stand when you enter. You two stare at each other for a moment before Schlatt clears his throat and sticks out his arms. “Please. Have a seat… If you want” he stutters out. You cautiously move to one of the chairs and slowly lower yourself into the chair behind you and he quickly follows suit. There’s a little more staring before Schlatt speaks again, “So… Um. How was your breakfast?” he’s nervous, very nervous. “It was good… I know you didn’t ask me here to talk about breakfast Schlatt so let’s just get right to it shall we?” you cut straight through wanting to get this over with. Schlatt flinches slightly at the sharp tone but nods, “I’m so sorry for last night… No for the last few months. I have been an extremely shitty fiance and that hasn’t been fair to you. My behavior, especially these last few months, and especially last night was unacceptable. I’m so sorry and I really hope you’ll forgive me” You wait just a moment to make sure he was finished before you speak. And boy do you speak, “You’re right. You’ve been really shitty and it hasn’t been fair to me… But if you think a single apology is going to fix all of it. You’re dead wrong Schlatt. Dead wrong… These past few months have been hell for me. I’ve tried so hard to be supportive to try and have your back but you just kept pushing me away. I went to bed alone, I woke up alone, I had to take care of myself all while I was also trying to take care of you…. Schlatt last night you yelled at me, you screamed at me. You blamed me for the riff in our relationship. Blamed me for you having a job you claim you never wanted. I never forced you to run for president. I never forced Quackity to give you his votes. I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. I simply stood behind you and supported you…. Last night you threw a glass bottle at my head. Had I not ducked it would have hit me straight in the face. I would have been severely hurt and it would have been your fault. But the thing that hurts the most, the thing that tears me up inside. Schlatt. You told me you hated me. You said you hate me.” 

Schlatt is in tears by the time you’ve finished and you’re nearly there too. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry baby. So sorry. I know I’ve been so bad. So horrible. I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, it was never your fault. It’s mine and I know that. I take complete and utter responsibility. When I ran it was a joke, it was for a joke. I never expected to win, but you supported me anyway. You’ve always supported me and I know I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. Last night, when we were talking, well yelling, I was so drunk out of my mind. I thought you were me. I thought you were me and I was talking to a version of myself, a hallucination. That’s why I screamed at you. That’s why I told you it’s your fault. That I threw the bottle, and why I said I hated you. But when I heard you scream, everything became clear. I finally saw it was you and I knew I had fucked up. I know it’s no excuse, but it’s my explanation. I understand if you never want to see me again. I wouldn’t want to see me again.” Schlatt explains before breaking down into sobs. It all makes sense, the way he acted last night. Why he did and said those horrible things to you. You could tell he wasn’t lying. You know you still have a lot to talk about and work through, but for now, you quickly rise from your chair, move around the desk, before sitting yourself down in his lap and burying your face in his neck, pulling yourself close to him. His arms immediately shoot out and wrap around you and tug you to him so tightly, as if he’s scared if he let’s go, he’ll lose you. You cry in each other’s arms for a few moments, just letting out all of your emotions. The missing of one another, the sadness, and longing. You manage to get yourself under control first, pulling back to look him in the eyes “We still have a lot to talk about and you still have a lot of making up to do, but I’m going to forgive you. Not right now, but I will eventually. We’re going to make this work lover.” You promise your fiance, leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I swear to you I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You’re my everything my love and I swear that I’ll make this right” he whispers before leaning forward and capturing your lips into a real and proper kiss. The kind you haven’t had in months. And you can’t help but absolutely melt in Schlatt’s lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You two are going to be alright. Schlatt will make sure of it.

[zodiyack]

Love Reunited (Love On The Run - Part Two)

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst reader has a bad bitch moment, fluff, threats + mentions of murder, no proofreading

Words: 2,114

Summary: In the heat of the moment, Y/n says something that pissed Klaus off. Elijah does the only thing he can and tells his wife to run for her life. | The only thing standing between Klaus and forgiveness from his older brother is Y/n and her freedom.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @dpaccione​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @simonsbluee​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One.

Ever since Klaus’ resentment for Y/n, and the sworn death sentence he’d given her, chased her out of New Orleans and into constant relocation just to be safe in hiding from her husband’s brother, Elijah had developed a new feeling. He began to loathe his little brother. Though he’d claimed to have detested his brother many times before, this time was different. Even so, that wasn’t the only thing different about this time. 

This time, Klaus knew he was fucked.

He’d cried for forgiveness over the past few years, yet Elijah ignored him every single time. One of the, scarcely occurring, times he actually spoke to Klaus about his apology, he’d brought up the situation with Y/n, quoting the hybrid word for word.

“You did say, ‘live with Elijah’s hate,’ did you not? So, why can you not just live with the burden of the reality that I in fact do, and will always, abhor you, Niklaus? Or are you just so diabolical, so selfish. that you merely cannot fathom losing the one person whom has vowed to stay by your side, always and forever? The one person who can tolerate you.”

“Elijah- ple-”

“So long as my wife is on the run from you, running quite literally for her life, you will never be reprieved.” Everyone who knew Elijah knew that he always kept his word. “I give you my word on that.” Always.

“Please, brother! I’ll do anything for your forgiveness-” He was genuine. As Klaus begged, practically on his knees with tears stinging his eyes, he was a hundred percent genuine.

Elijah turned his head, finally facing his brother with full attention and interest for the first time in a painful handful of years. “Free Y/n.”

“W-what?”

“Free my lover from this condemnation you have unjustly sentenced her to and allow her to walk away from your grudge without harm and without the risk of you creating blackmail material of her actions that you have unreasonably deemed intolerable.”

“Anything else?” He was only kidding, but Elijah wasn’t.

“You’ll have to collect her from whatever location she’s at currently. And please Niklaus, do so without any violence on your behalf.”

He chuckled for a second. Then his smug, carefree, expression morphed into one of uneasy guilt. “You’re...serious?” Elijah held his stern manner. Klaus took his lack of response as a yes and sighed, “Alright. Consider her free.” then he turned to go hunt for Y/n and earn his brother’s pardon.

“If you lay a hand on her,” Klaus halted in his tracks, eyes darting to the side as though he could see his brother clearly despite Elijah being directly behind him, “be it a hair pulled from her head or even a tiny meaningless spiteful threat, there will be splinters for you to pull out of your skin for years. And though it will not permanently kill you, I shall drive stake upon stake through your chest and never feel remorse for any part of it.”

Klaus almost wanted to scoff, laugh it off and tell Elijah he’d never actually do that but a part of him wondered if he really would. If his own brother would end his life for anything done to Y/n. Deep down, he knew Elijah would have a rage that would overflow and cause terror and destruction in it’s wake.

He knew the wood couldn’t kill him. He’d do it over and over again, for the next centuries to come, and the centuries after those have passed, the cycle never ending. A never ending cycle of a living hell. And a hell that he knew would be well deserved for it would only come to such a punishment if he did anything to hurt the love of his brother’s life. An easy mistake to avoid ...if your name wasn’t Niklaus.

“Understand?”

Klaus wondered what happened to the old him; the merciless, blood thirsty, cruel and sinister hybrid, the one true immortal being, now showing mercy to, and retrieving, someone who’d crossed multiple lines in his eyes. Whilst she did have a point, he chose never to say so. He chose to ignore all attempts to draw the light in him into the world. He chose to ignore all pleas for his goodness in fear of his softness- his weakness getting the people he loved hurt.

But it was time to push past that, for if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be any people for him to love.

He swallowed and redirected his narrowed eyes to the door. His jaw clenched and his breathing became uneven. “Understood, brother.”

Niklaus was a stubborn man, and he knew it. But he would do anything, very close to literally anything, to gain his family back. To atone for his mistakes over hundreds of decades. To plea for redemption from their bad sides. And although Elijah would forgive him with simply letting Y/n return to his arms once more, Niklaus new his pleading wasn’t quite over yet.

Y/n wouldn’t just forgive him so easily. She wouldn’t, and because he knew that, he wasn’t surprised when she narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brows before releasing an avalanche of years, years of which felt horribly elongated, of pent up rage upon him instantaneously without any form of hesitation.

He found her with the help of witches, and quite easily seeing as moving from place to place as quickly as possible would require avoiding any type of relationships with everyone. She didn’t have anyone to preform a cloaking spell, but she did have great strength as a back-up strategy.

A note, placed by the barkeep, was subtly dropped in front of her, the words written in blue by the pen he’d snatched from a barmaid’s apron as she walked past. Two little words sparked her curiosity almost immediately. Her head snapped up and turned left and right, looking for who the mysterious messenger, whom she hoped was Elijah. Much to her disappointment, the person who suddenly placed a hand on her shoulder was a different Mikaelson.

Y/n grabbed his hand and flung it off of herself harshly. “You?”

“Don’t sound so disgruntled, love, I am here to collect you after all.”

“No. I won’t be going anywhere with you.”  Venom entwined her words as she referenced him. She clenched her jaw and swiftly turned to face the bar again. The scrunched up napkin was thrown over her shoulder. He opened it, “come home” sprawled messily across the soft material.

Klaus felt the anger wash over him but promptly remembered Elijah’s words. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m afraid I can’t take no as an answer.”

“And I’m afraid I would rather stake myself than go literally any place on this green fucking earth with you.” Y/n spat through her teeth.

Her blatantly obvious execrating feelings for him amused Klaus, a small grin appearing on his lips as he tilted his head. “Do you even know where I’m taking you?”

“To hell, most likely.”

Klaus, unsurprisingly, had a snarky retort ready on his tongue, but she was already out the door and taking a sneaky head start for her run to the farthest place from Niklaus possible. He was on her tail within seconds and cornered her in the woods. A smug leer, not uncommon to see upon his features, promptly slid onto his face.

“What the hell do you want, besides to kill me?”

“You to come with me.”

Y/n paused, as if she were considering his demand, then rolled her eyes. She tried to step around him, “Like that’ll do me any good-”

“It will.” Klaus stepped in front of her, blocking her way once more. “C’mon. From here on out, your sentence is over, you can return to New Orleans-”

“And how do I know you mean the words you speak? How do I know you shall stay true to whatever comes from your mouth?”

“You know me, I-”

“You’re quite correct, Klaus. I know you. I know that you are not infamous for nothing. You lie, deceive, torture, humiliate and do so many other things to people underserving of your cruelty! How should I forgive you when you have yet to adhere for the hurt you’ve infected innocents with?”

His gaze dropped, guilt creeping over his face. He knew what he did to those people.

“Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done?”

Not really. Not all the time. Hardly ever at all if he were to be honest.

“Do you feel the need to morn those you have wrongfully sentenced to death? Those you have sent to the deepest pits of hell based on erroneous judgement?”

She came for his throat, each fact that was spat from her mouth verbatim.

“You are callous and you are heinous! You wonder why your siblings hate you, and yet you constantly do vile things to people! You have erroneously punished people over and over again. You swear you will change, many times, and they believe you but then the next thing they know, they’re in a box for a couple decades. And you think they need to plead for absolution?”

Hundreds of years spent seething in hostility for her brother in law, all ranted in this one moment hit Klaus like a bus, taking the air from his lungs and sending a feeling deep into his gut like someone had just swung a baseball bat into his stomach a dozen times. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“You want to ask for my exoneration? Well you have years, and I mean fucking years, to make up for.” She laughed sarcastically. “To absolve you from everything you’ve put me through, everything you’ve taken from me, everything I’ve fucking missed because of you- to absolve you from all of that would take many years of penitence and work to fix what you have done. Are you really prepared to do that? Are you, Niklaus fucking Mikaelson, ready to take a lengthy withdrawal from your wicked and corruptive reign of evil to earn my remission?”

He hated the fact that she teased him for it, rubbed it in his face, but he knew he deserved it. Klaus knew he deserved every harsh and bitter word she spat at him. He had a thousand of years of blood on his hands, the true number of all the lives he’d snuffed out still paling in comparison to the amount of power that radiated from Y/n, the amount of guilt and remorse she’d forced onto his shoulders with simple words.

“You are no fucking king,” she sneered, “at least, not compared to me.”

Silence made the air heavy with tension as the minutes passed by. Then, she sighed heavily and spoke, slicing the thick tension with an imaginary blade. “I will go with you,” he looked to her with relief, “but I meant every word I said. You will have to work to ensure your vindication. And it will not be an easy task.”

“I understand.” Klaus bowed his head, submitting to her and trading in his crown to prove his worthiness of her forgiveness.

She happily accepted it.

“Y/n?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. Last he’d checked, he hadn’t been bitten by a werewolf or hybrid, nor had he inhaled or consumed any witchy substances that would make him hallucinate. He didn’t pray much, but in his head, his thoughts muttered over and over, “please be real.”

“Elijah!” Her eyes lit up the second they met his form. She surged forward, lips colliding with Elijah’s for the first time in years. He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her round.

The world faded to an irrelevant blur. It felt amazing to be home, to be in his arms once more, to be free of Klaus’ ridiculous furry, free of the ill intentions previously directed towards her. Minutes had went by and yet, neither of the two noticed a single thing.

Years that had passed by soon drifted away, like they weren’t apart for any of it. Like time had hit pause when she’d left his arms and resumed when she returned to them. It felt as though time froze whilst the two embraced. The moment could’ve lasted an eternity had Klaus not cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“So uh...brother...have I earned your forgiveness?”

“I suppose you have.”

“And Y/n? Have I made progress on clearing my name with you?”

She made eye contact with Elijah, exchanging a small grin before returning her eyes to Klaus and nodding slightly. “You’ve got a ways to go, but you’re off to a great start. Thank you, Klaus.”

[jackie5656]

Wanna Bet? With; Diego Hargreeves

A/N: Alright, it’s a long one folks! Took me just about all day but I was determined to get this one done. Special thanks to @jen8888​ for help with the prompt idea. I hope you all enjoy.

Warnings: Drinking, mild harassment, a LOT of cursing and✨sarcastic✨ Diego (grammar/spelling edits will be made later on) 

“C’mon, I can’t buy the big winner a drink? You had a hell of a fight.” 

“You promised a few drinks, actually. And the winner would have liked to go back to his room in the gym instead of walking two blocks over to this shit bar.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm Di, truly inspiring.” You mutter out the final word as he opens the pub door, a wave of blurred chatter from it’s patrons and music from the old jukebox flood your senses. Diego doesn’t have the energy to rebuttal, seeing as you’ve had a battle of light-hearted sarcasm the entire walk here. The pair of you receive drunken cheers from a few of the patrons who must have bet on The infamous Kraken for tonight's fight. The brunette offers a curt nod, ushering you toward your regular seats in order to avoid any more attention. 

“Are we celebrating another victory or a loss?” Robin asks hesitantly from behind the counter, knowing by now two of her favorite regulars are here after a fight. 

“Victory.” You give her a smile as she places your beers in front of you, Diego rolling his eyes with a grin as you raise your bottle to meet his in celebration. 

“So, how’s it feel to be a local favorite? I’m here on even the quietest of night and there’s still talk about you, Kraken.” Robin gives a sly smirk to Diego, leaning over the bar as if to hear him better. Something ignites in you as they spark up conversation, and the not so subtle flirting on her part makes you take another swig after a slight scoff. Ignoring Diego’s curious side-eye towards you, a shot is in front of you as the pair is removed from your attention.

“Thought you could use a drink, on me of course.” In another ‘fuck you’ from the universe, there just has to be someone looking to get in your pants for a mere tequila sho-oh. He’s cute, and maybe the universe is not that much of a bitch after all. Not when you can feel Diego’s eyes burning into the handsome stranger as you offer your most charming smile.

“That obvious?” You both chuckle whilst clinking the small glasses together, not hesitating to down the clear liquid that burns some of the edge off.

“So, I kind of convinced my work buddies over there that I’m kick-ass at darts. And don’t get me wrong, I am. But maybe you could play a round or two with me to prove it?” You give him a once over as he speaks, glancing towards said friends who look to the pair of you expectantly. 

“Sure. No promises you’ll win though.” The words leave your mouth before Diego can even think to butt in, and the two of you are walking across the bar before he can even process what that cheese-ball has even said.

“Robin, who the fuck does that guy think he is?” He glares across the room as the woman laughs to herself whilst wiping the counter. Her smile growing when she observes the man angrily tracing the condensation on the rim of the cold bottle.

‘”I’m not sure y/n’s picked up on the fact that I play for the other team Diego. She’s probably a little pissed at me.”

Rob, what are you trying to say? Y/n has nothing against gay people-”

“Christ, Diego. Not that, I mean she’s probably confused our jokes for flirting. Man you’re lucky you’re pretty.” The tanned skin man narrows his eyes at her insult, scoffing before turning toward the couple grabbing the darts off of the board whilst lost in conversation. 

“Fuck you. And you know her and I are just friends. It’s not-we don’t...It’s not like that.”

“Right, so she just up and left to go play darts with some random douchey guy for fun? Let’s not pretend you’re not eyeing her every time she’s not looking Di. You’re practically pining over her every time I see you two.

“But you-”

“But what, I’m right? Besides, she likes you too dumbass. But you just sat here and talked to me for ten minutes while she watched.”

“Alright so, what do I do?”

“Diego, I’m not gonna hold your fucking hand while you write her a valentine. I have customers. You’ve never been one to back down from a fight right?”

“Right.”

“So go for it, knifeboy.”

               ___________________________________________

“Another double! Next round is on you then.” The man you now know as Henry grabs his darts off the board as you roll your eyes.

You prepare to throw, glancing incrudeously as he downs yet another shot with his friends. Looking over at you and muttering something that makes them all laugh. Your eyes focus back onto the board, eager to settle the head to head score and wipe that cocky smirk off his face. Quietly cursing yourself as you only earn an eight. 

“Lemme help.” He’s a bit too close for comfort when he utters the words from behind you, the strong smell of tequila informing you he’s had a bit too much to drink. “You need to square your feet, like this.” Your foot is kicked out into place by his own as his hands meet your hips, scruff tickling your neck when he tries to continue slurring advice into your ear. 

“Alright! Let’s just play the game.” Your face is stern when you spin around out of his grip, obviously uncomfortable with his sudden handsy demeanor. Diego rises from his stool across the bar, and you shoot him a look to signal you're fine, and quite honestly uninterested in his heroics. He grimaces when you do, slowly sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms in defiance.

“Whoa, whoa. Okay, no more helping out the competition then.” Henry snickers as he speaks, no doubt basking in the amusement he’s providing his co-workers. “How about we make it a bit more interesting. I’m pretty sure I can win here and-”

“Wanna bet?” You interrupt his rant with a challenging glare, skin getting hot with annoyance when his grin widens.

“Precisely. If you win, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. Considering Rocky over there has been giving me a death stare this whole time.” His friends chuckle as he speaks, the pair of you glancing over at Diego who shifts in his seat before muttering something to Robin. “And if I win, let’s just say I won’t only be scoring on the board.” He eyes you at the end of his sentence, chest broadening at the ‘oohs’ from the childish group beside you.

Nice guy turned frat boy, why are you not surprised? Men are too predictable for their own good. Despite your now seething anger, you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially when sexism is at play.

“Fine. But just don’t get your hopes up. I’m assuming your right hand will do the most of the scoring tonight, an I’m not talking about the board either.” There’s another roar of hoots from the men at the table, other patrons giving them annoyed glances as they edge you both on.

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

“25! I get a 50 next round and I win!” You cheer triumphantly, turning away from grabbing your darts off the board and bumping right into Henry’s chest. His face mere inches from yours as his hands grasp your waist once more. 

C’mon sweetheart, I know you want to come home with me. Why don’t we call it quits and I can get us a cab back t my apartment-”

“I’m going to win. And when I do, I’m leaving. Alone.” You pull out of his hold once more, side stepping away from him and only getting a few paces before you feel his large hand grasp your shoulder

“Don’t be like that bi-” He can’t even finish his sentence before you fell his hand suddenly leaving you as his body crashes against the wall. Your eyes trailing up his arm to see the sleeve of his jacket pinned against the dart board by a sharp, silvery blade. It’s tip buried into the red dot in the middle of the board and just barely missing the man’s wrist. The loud conversation has halted, and everyone in the bar stares expectantly at the three of you. Just great.

“Bullseye, she wins.” A familiar voice announces. Diego’s eyes are dark and filled with rage, fists clenched in an attempt to contain his anger as he eyes the man in front of him.

“What the fuck dude? Let the chick decide who she goes home wi-” Henry’s words are chocked to a stop once again when Diego’s on top of him in  flash. Forearm digging into his throat to catch the words about to leave his mouth. 

“You better watch your mouth pretty boy. Because next time, I wont miss.” The taller brunette seethes in challenge, Henry straightening up in a pathetic attempt to look more intimidating in his compromised position. 

“C’mon Di, he isn’t worth it.” You interrupt the testosterone battle with a huff, uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on the scene going down.

Diego's eyes move fiercely between you and the man under him, softening a bit when you enter his line of vision. Letting out a patronizing chuckle, he rips the knife from the board and backs away. Turning towards you with yes glimmering mischievously. And because Diego isn’t the least bit threatened by this douchebag, he let’s his guard down. Before you can warn him, Henry’s newly freed fist is in the air and bout to collide into Diego’s cheek. 

Instantly dodging the attempted blow, Diego lands a harsh strike into the blonde’s jaw. A few gasps from the other customers as Henry hits the ground with a thump. You smack your palm against your forehead as a round of cheers come from the men who had watched The Kraken’s fight earlier on, congratulating the man on yet another victory.

“Alright, that’s enough! You guys are out!” Robin forces her way through the groaning crowd as she motions the group of you to the door. Simply raising her finger at the Henry’s friends who are half holding him up from the floor and shouting words of protest. 

“Ah-ah! No talking, now I have to mop your friends blood of the floor because he’s too bitch to respect an uninterested woman’s rejection. Get that asshole out of here, I don’t want to see him or any of you incels again.” She finishes sternly, rolling her eyes as the group shuffles out of the bar. The other patrons have died down now, back to conversing about other things as if nothings happened. 

“We’re so sorry Robin I-”

“Nonsense y/n, it wasn’t your fault. Unfortunately, Conor McGregor here needs to go too.” Robin interrupts with a glare towards a very giddy Diego.

“Wha- Robin! Did you see that shit? I just knocked his ass out cold!” 

“Yeah I saw that shit, and now I have to clean it. You know the rules Diego, no knives and obviously no fighting in my bar! Now go, it’s not like you two wont be here to bother me next weekend anyway.” Albeit a bt pissed, the woman nods you two off with a knowing smile as you exit. “Bob, go get me the mop!”

Her shouts are drowned out when the door shuts and you’re met with the brisk night air. The only thing illuminating the sidewalk of the city being the streetlights above you. You start walking back towards the gym, eager to get to your car and go home. Rolling your eyes when you hear Diego’s footsteps quicken to catch up to you. 

“What, you’re mad at me now?” He teases from beside you, eyebrows furrowing when his elbow jab does nothing in attempt to get you to acknowledge him. You quicken you pace, trying to take deep breathes of the cold air in order to calm you. “Let me try then. Hey Diego, my best friend who enjoys the company of just about nobody but me, who is also really badass and fights crime, thank you for saving my ass back there!” He finishes his teasing when you whip around on your heel to face him. Your eyes wide in bewilderment as he stops short to avoid crashing into you.

“Th-Thank you? You want me to thank you for the shit you pulled back there!” You’re shouting now, and thank god it’s so late so this wouldn’t be the second public scene you two have caused tonight.

“Um...Yes?” He’s a bit offended now, short temper no doubt fired up from your sudden outburst.

“Okay, sure. Thanks Diego for causing a huge fucking scene for a situation I could have handled.”

“If you didn’t notice, that asshole had an iron grip on you. He could have hurt you y/n!” 

“You don’t go throwing knives at people just because they’re handsy Diego. I had the situation under control. I was getting out of there before you had to swoop in with your whole hero act!” The brown eyes looking into yours widen at your words, before turning dark and cold as they had at the bar. 

“Fine, then I guess I’ll let you walk yourself home since your’re so fucking capable!”

“Fine!” 

“Fine!” In true Hargreeves fashion, Diego shouts the last word before storming off in the other direction. You turn around once more, wrapping your arms around yourself in order to keep warm. The quiet of the night is a little creepy, but your apartment building isn’t far from here. 

It’s only been a couple minutes since you two have separated, but somehow the streets feel darker without Diego. If it were a normal night, you’d be pestering him over something while he pretends to get annoyed. And you can;t help but feel a pang of guilt when you picture him walking alone, head down as he rethinks tonight over and over. But your anger is valid right? He spends half the night flirting with Robin, and then decides to get all protective? It’s bullshit, and the constant mixed signals make your head spin and heart ache. It’s you’re fault for falling for him though, and directing all your anger and hurt toward him isn’t fair. On the other hand, did he not constantly send messages that he might be feeling the same way?

Your heart sinks when you pick up on a steady pair of footsteps behind you. Testing the stranger, you walk a bit faster, beginning to panic when they do too. A steady hand grips your mace as you continue walking, knowing your apartment isn’t far and if anything you can knock on Mr. Brown’s door. Recalling a time when he told you if you were ever worried, he’d be ready with his shotgun to ‘kick the shit out of them bastards’. But it’s late, and who knows if he’ll hear you in time. 

A hand on your shoulder rips you from your thoughts. Letting out a yelp, you swing your arm back so it knocks theirs away, giving a swift kick to their groin and sticking out your mace in preparation to spray and sprint. 

A guttural groan escapes the man on the floor, who shoots up a gloved hand to halt any further assault from you. 

J-Jesus Christ it’s me! It’s me y/n!” Diego manages to squeak out between wheezed coughs. 

Your hand smacks against your chest as you let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck Diego, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“You know, I’d give a shit if I wasn’t worrying whether or not I’m able to have children.” He clutches his groin as he speaks, shooting you a glare when you kneel down beside him, hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “Are you seriously laughing right now? I’m pretty sure my dick just shot up into my stomach.” 

“I-I’m so sorry. Why’d you sneak up on me like that!” 

“I didn’t want you to walk home alone. Too dark out. But, I guess the reinforcement weren’t needed, seeing as you’ve just sterilized me.” He lets out a small chuckle when you laugh gets louder.

“I told you I could handle myself.” You offer your hand to pull him up, rolling your eyes when he lets out another dramatic yelp.

“I taught you that block, actually.” 

“Touche. Still up for walking me home?” 

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

You’re on the couch now, takeout strewn about over your coffee table as the tv plays quietly in front of you. Avatar plays on the screen, and although Diego always teases you for enjoying a kid’s show so much, he’s fully invested in every episode.

Not now, though. You can feel his eyes on you, and shift uncomfortably before turning your head to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I don’t know, forget it.” He shakes his head as he speaks, taking a swig f beer before peering over at you again. In an attempt to ignore it, you try to focus on the tv instead. But he’s still staring, and you can’t help but become increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

“Diego, what is it?” You give him your full attention, shifting so you’re facing his side of the couch. 

“Well, we never really talked about tonight.”

“Am I dreaming, or is Diego Hargreeves trying to have an adult discussion about a confrontation right now?”

“I’m serious y/n. Y-you haven’t been acting like yourself lately?”

“How have I been acting like then?” Your brows furrow defensively, and you straighten up as he replies.

“Like that! Like I’m I don’t know...Pissing you off all the time! I just want to know what a did wrong. And you do that little thing with your nose where you scrunch it up and stuff. And..Well, it’s pretty cute but you always get angr-”

“No! Don’t even say that shit Di. You know why I’ve been pissy lately? Because, you’re always saying stuff like that! And then we both pretend it doesn’t happen!” You stand up as you argue, beginning to pace around the room as if to better explain yourself. 

“Say what?”

“You, you just say stuff that makes my stomach feel like flippy and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

“Flippy?”

“Yeah, and then I have to ignore it because I know you don’t mean it and-”

“Don’t mean it?”

“Would you quit repeating everything I say!”

“Sorry, you’re confusing me!”

“NO, nope . You are the one that’s confusing Diego. I get it, we flirt as a joke or whatever. But it’s not really a joke to me anymore, and I don’t know how to feel about all the shit I’m...Feeling, and I’m so confused all the time! One minute I think you might actually be interested in me and the next I’m beating myself up for ever thinking you would. Because we’re friends, you’re my best friend. I c-can’t be without you and then when all these emotions bottle up I get angry and take it out on you. I Love you! Alright, is that what you wanted to fucking hear?” Your hands fly up to your temples at the end of your spiel, rubbing them in an attempt to figure out whether tonight has all been one big nightmare. The living room grows quite, and you continue to stalk around the room as you await a response. 

“Can you say something lease? Or just like, go if I totally just fucked up our entire friendship.”

“I-you, well...You never told me that.” He stutters out quietly, eyes trained on you as you let out a cynical scoff.

“Yeah, well now it’s out there.”

“You like me! I mean, you totally have a crush on me!” He cheers with a laugh, not seeming to notice your look of pure confusion. 

“Great, thanks for the memo then. You know, you could’ve us let me down easy but hooray y/n just made a complete fool of herself!” You stutter to a stop when you realize he’s standing in front of you. A shit eating grin you so rarely get to see from the typically stoic man adorning his tanned face as he admires you. 

In a pathetic attempt to scrounge up what little dignity you have left, your eyes dart around the room to spark up some sort of conversation. “Oh, they finally made it to the Southern Air Temple...Can we-can we just continue watching and pretend like nothing happened? Because that’s totally cool with me-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Wh-what?”

“Can I kiss you?” Diego repeats, softer this time as he steps even closer. Hands going around your waist as he looks for a response expectantly. You want to move out of his grip, unaccustomed to the way his warm hands take your skin tingle.

“What’s wrong? Do I make you nervous?” His eyebrows raise as he utters out the challenge, a cocky smirk plastered on his lips when your eyes finally meet his. 

“N-no.” You can feel his breath against your skin, and damn it if that electric shock feeling doesn’t stop shooting from his hands you might just-fuck it.

You collide your lips with his, eager to get that stupid smirk off his face as his stance slightly falters. You’ve caught him off guard, and you’ll be damned if he thinks you’re the only one to get bashful from the other. 

You pull away slowly, biting down on your lip gently and quickly pulling back when he attempts to pull you closer for more. You stay close though, and let out a soft chuckle when he grunts at your teasing. 

“Hey, don’t get arrogant on me now. I had you all flustered just a second ago. I have the upper-hand here.

“Really Hargreeves? Wanna bet?”

[anonthenullifier]

How would Wanda and Vision (and Billy) react to Tommy being taken by that mutant experimentation facility that wanted to turn him into a weapon?

When I saw this, the entire story immediately formed in my head and I had to write it. Thank you for the ask, I had a lot of fun doing it! I hope you enjoy :D.  

Warning: story has some strong language 

------

It took an enormous amount of convincing for them (Vision in particular) to agree to leave the boys alone for the weekend. There were many hours of whining and conversations about how they are sixteen now and how they need to be treated as adults. Surprisingly, it was Tommy who flipped the narrative by presenting them thoroughly researched details of their current private island get-away. In the back of his mind, Vision knows he should be more than just mildly worried about what antics they are getting up to and if they are remembering to eat and sleep, except that would mean ignoring the murmur of the ocean and the wistful smirk on his wife’s face and the way her curls sway in the salty breeze and the adorable wrinkles that have formed by her closing her eyes to fully enjoy the soft caress of their freedom. Though he can efficiently consider all of this at once, he would rather take Wanda’s near constant advice to live in the moment. So he does, scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Would you care for more sangria?” 

Wanda pops open her left eye to look at him. “That depends.” 

“On?” 

“Whether you deliver it in your speedo.”  

Vision contemplates the request, not in a serious manner, but in a theatrical show of potential uncertainty despite both of them being aware there is no physical way for him to resist the insatiability sending scarlet flares across her iris. “At the Maximoff resort,” her eyebrows perk up at the lathering of poshness and the implication of the direction of their evening, “we do pride ourselves on catering,” a shrug of his shoulders dissolves his prior floral shirt and Bermuda shorts into the little teal number from their honeymoon so many years ago, “to our guest’s every need.” 

“That’s good because I,” before he can grab her glass, Wanda fishes out one of the inebriated peaches, sliding it into her mouth with a saucy wink, “have lots of needs.” 

“I will return momen-” the thought hangs limply in the air as he watches Wanda freeze, her back straightening out and hands gripping the armrest of her beach chair as her lust cracks and gives way to a distant stare. Whatever she sees is not on this beach, may not even be in this universe. “Wanda?” Each passing moment crawls up Vision’s spine, prickling his skin and sending his mind into a whirlwind of unease at his ignorance of the issue. After what feels like five minutes but is actually ten seconds, Vision kneels in the sand beside her chair, haltingly bringing his hand to hers, “Wanda what is it?” 

“Tommy.” 

All joy leeches immediately from his mind, replaced only by a frigid shroud of concern. “What’s wrong?” 

To the untrained ear, the whirring and sputter to Vision’s left would be no different from the tropical breeze dancing around them, but Vision’s auditory system is functioning perfectly so he turns expectedly towards the blue portal of their son. “Mom,” Billy rushes through and the fact he’s barefooted and wearing sweatpants with a pajama shirt only unsettles Vision further, “Dad. They took Tommy.” 

Wanda’s head snaps to the side to stare in the general direction of their son, her eyes still miles away despite her voice trembling with rage in the present, “Who?” 

“I don’t, I don’t know.” Nervously he brushes a hand through his hair, “He went out for a run and then I felt,” Billy’s eyes are wild, tinged with blue, much like Wanda’s own get when she struggles with overwhelming emotions, “we were connected, you know, like you say we should be and-” 

Vision has known anger in his own life, whether it is in the way he never hesitates to decimate those who harm Wanda, or in the calculated attacks of logic he uses on politicians and other officials who are being discriminatory and lecherous, or even in the calm, but firm words he uses to discipline the boys, but this feeling now, this dropping of his stomach and the roiling, severe heat that flows through his synthetic veins and the complete and utter single ideation of causing pain to whomever did this...this is new. “Can you track him still?” 

Pinched eyes, a shaky nod, and a prismatic cloud confirms the question. Not wanting to pressure their son more than he, no doubt, is already doing to himself, Vision directs his attention to Wanda, recognizing the same fury in the serious scowl on her face and he does a less than admirable job of remaining calm when he assures her, “We will get him back.” 

 “I think…” Billy’s neck cranes to the right as if he’s trying to peer around a corner, “I found him.” 

The strain in his voice kick starts Wanda out of her seething and into action, “Let me help.” Scarlet twines its way through Billy’s electric blue seeing glass, seeming to clarify the situation even if Vision stands helplessly blind next to them. “Vizh,” he snaps to attention, taking in every piece of information and constructing a mental diagram of the situation, “there’re six armed guards,” Vision’s fingers curl into a tight fist at the number, “two holding him, two flanking those, and two in the back near the door.” The people are added to his schematic. “It’s a small room.” 

“Looks like an operating room.” 

Billy’s addition is helpful and causes Vision’s body to become denser, his feet burying in the sand as his mind churns through the tactical options instead of getting mired in what might befall Tommy if they do not hurry. “Billy, you are going to portal us there. Let your mother and I eradicate the targets.” 

Only the surprised warning in Wanda’s, “Vision” alerts him to his harsh vocabulary. 

“I mean we will subdue and neutralize the targets.”  

Billy doesn’t care about the terminology, still focused on his connection to his twin. “What should I do?” 

It is tempting to tell him to remain here, safe on the beach, but if all Vision feels is a need for retribution, he imagines Billy’s own feelings are similar and being sidelined will only increase his worry. “You get your brother.” With a hand on each of their shoulders, Vision draws them in for a pre-fight huddle. “The most important thing is to get Tommy back safely.” Synchronized nods confirm the obvious goal. “The second most important outcome is that we make these individuals rue the day they decided to target the Maximoff family.” Battle ready smiles meet his words, all of them ready to tear the world apart if that’s what it comes down to. “Let’s get your brother.”

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

 Tommy is pissed. For one thing, mom and dad are never going to trust them alone again and that’s utter crap because it’s not his fault some shady ass organization was apparently creeping on him and waiting for him to be alone. He was even following dad’s stupid running route of highest visibility to cars and he was wearing the even more idiotic reflective vest because he was damned if he ruined their earned freedom. It is going to be so vindicating to inform dad that the vest gave his position away.   

Another point of annoyance is that these assholes used some sort of electrified net to catch him and it hurt like hell and they somehow have restraints that can withstand his powers. This was clearly well planned and that is a little flattering but mainly it’s infuriating. “Do you assholes know who I am?” Of course they do, but clearly they haven’t much thought through what kidnapping him would mean for their own well-being.  

The guard to his right doesn’t directly acknowledge the comment, instead asking her superior, “Can we please gag him?” 

Good, he’s glad his charming banter is annoying them. “You all are so fucked once they get here.” 

The superior also pretends like he’s not talking. “Get him on the table and sedate him.” Great. “He won’t remember anything once we’re done.” Not ominous at all.  

“Do you have to get training for how to be a villain?” He’d really, desperately like to speed away now, but not even vibrating his molecules is working on these shackles, so he needs to take the Stark approved quippy distraction strategy. “Because the delivery of the threat was a bit halfhearted. I’m not even scared.” A lie but they don’t know that (hopefully).  

The two guards gripping his arms drag him to the middle of the room where there’s the stereotypical solitary operating table with leather straps and a blinding fluorescent light above it (does someone make their living doing interior decorating for bad guys? If they do, they suck at it because this is drab and uninspired). Tommy resists as best he can, flopping his body in the opposite direction of their tugging all while sending out a mental SOS. Truthfully he doesn’t really understand Billy or mom’s telepathy, he just knows one of them always shows up eventually when he thinks about wanting company. And he really wants them here right now.  

A taser is rammed into his back and he crumples forward with an irate, “Assholes.”  

Almost giddily they strap him onto the table, the leader grinning down at him through the military grade face shield. “Halfhearted or not, you’re ours now.” 

“What does that even mean?” The man moves away without even the decency to shrug, radioing to someone that the subject is subdued and ready for the procedure which Tommy is most certainly not ready for whatever they plan to do and so he squeezes his eyes shut and sends out a very, he thinks, clear cry for help.  

When he receives an answer in the form of a thought dropped deep into his brain, one that says  We’re almost there , Tommy knows he should play it cool, bemoan the fate he is about to befall and rub the egos of the sadistic bastards around him, but he can’t help himself, turning to the guard tightening the strap across his chest, “You are fucked.” He turns his head towards the other guard, “You’re fucked too.” And then he just channels Oprah herself and spreads it to everyone. “And you’re fucked, and you’re fucked, and you’re fucked.” A shimmering portal opens up on the far wall right next to one of the door guards, to whom he shouts, “And you are most definitely fucked.” Before the promise is fully out the guard is pulled through the portal with a strangled scream, the wall closing up milliseconds before the others in the room turn towards the noise.  

Mr. You’re Ours Now glares at Tommy and then instructs the rest of the room. “Orders are shoot to kill, do you copy?”  

“Affirmative,” answers the guard next to him.  

That’s how this is going to go? Well then a very sarcastic, “Good luck” to them.  

Luck is not on their side because another portal opens and the second door guard is pulled through, dad phasing through the man’s body and solidifying just in time to punch another guard so hard it shatters their visor. Shit.  

The room erupts in chaos, a scarlet mist descending around them, the guards try to shoot but their guns are ripped out of their hands. And then there’s dad’s vibranium gleaming as he phases in and out of mom’s carefully crafted cover, the frantic and pained screams of the guards echoing as they fall, and this, this is how you do drama because if Tommy wasn’t the one being rescued, he’d be praying to whatever god might take mercy on his soul. “You okay?” Billy’s voice cracks with concern which is just really sweet.  

“Took you long enough.” 

And the concern is gone, “I was doing the responsible thing and getting backup.” 

He should be gracious right now because he is actually thankful but, “I don’t think you can call it backup when they’re the ones doing all the work.” 

There’s the steely gaze Billy’s perfected, “Do you want to be rescued or not?” 

“Thomas,” dad hovers beside him now, the transformation of his terrifying rage into fatherly concern contorting his features into a mildly upsetting scowl. “Are you injured?”  

It’s not often he’s the absolute center of attention and if he were to lay it on a bit thick it would be wholly understandable because he was the one who was rudely kidnapped, but he also has never seen his family this worried before so he defers to downplaying the experience. “Just a bit sore,” while also being truthful, “They electrocuted me a few times.” 

Finally, someone removes the straps and then dad breaks the constraints around his ankles, allowing him to blissfully stretch and shake out his muscles. Billy helps him sit up and the sight he’s met with is unexpected. “Why are you in a speedo?” To be fair, mom is in a beach cover and Billy’s in pajamas, but at least they’re clothed.  

“Um,” it seems the choice of clothing skipped dad’s mind, his hands running haltingly over his bare chest, “it was a tactical choice meant to bewilder and divert attention.” 

Scary, rage filled dad is gone and replaced with the normal, dry humored and dorky one, a fact that comforts Tommy far more than he’d ever admit out loud. “Sam’s never taught us about the tactical speedo.” 

Dad’s shoulders rise up a half inch and then fall with grace, “It is an advanced skill meant only for the most stalwart of Avengers.”

Which would be more believable (still not close to it, but marginally more so) if he didn’t instantly morph into his uniform when the door opened and the rest of the Avengers came inside, dressed and ready for battle. 

Mom directs them, “Vision has downloaded the schematics and files and will share them with you.” A chorus of chimes indicates the message has been delivered. “If you don’t mind,” mom wraps her arm around Tommy’s shoulder, easing him off the bed and helping steady him with her powers, “we’re going to leave the rest to you all.” 

Sam’s, “We got it covered,” absolves them of any responsibility in taking down the rest of whatever shady organization this is.

Even though Tommy would love to be part of an actual Avenger’s mission, he’s okay with sitting this one out…for the most part because as they walk towards Billy’s portal, Tommy shimmies free of his family’s helping hands long enough to stare smugly down at the broken nose of the leader of the assholes, “Told you you were fucked.” And then they leave, certain that the message was loudly received: no one messes with the Maximoffs.  

[miraculousbelladonna]

Look What You Made Me Do

This is some salt inspired by Taylor Swift’s song ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ and @miraculouscontent’s LadyBugOut AU (go read it. it’s AMAZING)

Summary: So maybe she’d let Lila’s stories be true. She’d become what they all already thought she was. She has nothing left to lose. (AO3)

Marinette was sick of Lila. Sick of her pathetic easily debunked lies and convoluted stories.

She was sick of her classmates and her so-called “friends.” Sick of them letting themselves be manipulated. Lila was honest for once when she said she only told them what they wanted to hear, which meant that they wanted to believe the worst of her. They were too quick to turn on her for it to have been anything else.

So maybe she’d let Lila’s stories be true. She’d become what they all already thought she was. She has nothing left to lose.

She showed up to class early, well, early for her. Everyone was already in class, just chatting, a handful of people were clustered around Lila as she told an astoundingly bad fake story about Rihanna promising her she’d name the next Fenty Beauty product after her.

Adrien was sitting next to her, as far away from her as he could be while still physically being on the bench, and he smiled and waved at her as she walked in. No one else did. She waved back, but didn’t smile. She was still pissed about his “taking the high road” nonsense. She knew he was sheltered and naive, which isn’t his fault, but she thought he’d have the grace to admit he was out of his depth when it came to school bullies. At least he offered her support, even if his words ended up really meaning nothing because he never followed through.

She walks towards Lila’s table in a deliberate manner that has everyone clustered around the liar looking and glaring daggers at her. She just shrugs at them and keeps walking, humming to herself, and as she walks by Lila’s table, and her bag on the floor, she kicks it down the stairs, walks to her seat, and waits.

Everyone is gasping and gaping at her. Lila has turned to her, big sad eyes already welling with crocodile tears, already whining in about 3 octaves too high than Marinette wants to deal with this early in the morning, about “Marinette! How could you do that? How could you kick my things away like that?” Cue fake sobs that wrack her body and everyone glaring at her even harder. “I thought you were so nice! I only wanted - I only wanted to be friends!”

“Hmm.” She hums aloud, letting her mouth spread into an easy sharp grin that has everyone stepping back and has even Lila’s eyes widening a little in fear. “No. You didn’t.”

“Girl!” Of course, Alya cuts in. Jumping to Lila’s defense like she used to jump to hers. Same old routine. “I can’t believe you just did that to Lila’s stuff!”

“Can’t you though? I mean, Lila’s been claiming for months that I’ve been bullying her, threatening her, and you’ve never seen me do it, but you believed her, didn’t you?”

Alya sputters with rage at the insinuation. She’s stuttering and spitting and utterly unable to get a single word out, and Nino puts his hand on her shoulder and turns a disapproving frown on Marinette. “Dude. That totally wasn’t cool.”

“Wasn’t it? I was just giving you guys a little proof. You all think I’m torturing the poor girl regardless of what I say, so why not just make her lies be true? It’s what you all expect of me! Especially considering how you’ve been treating me for the past couple of months. You can’t honestly tell me that you’re surprised, because then it would mean you don’t believe Lila and that she is in fact a liar. And we wouldn’t want anyone to be akumatized, now, would we, Adrien?”

Adrien is looking up at her, eyes darting between her and the rest of the class, not knowing what to say. Her gaze hardens the longer he stays silent, and they’re in a silent staring contest now, with Marinette’s smile getting wider and sharper as it goes on. He looks away.

She’s becoming something truly terrifying right before their eyes, and with the startling realization that they don’t know her anymore, the class starts looking around for akumas.

She knows now that Adrien’s word means nothing. It’s too bad she didn’t find out sooner. She sits back in her chair, drops the sharp scary smile, and everyone relaxes minutely. Adrien still isn’t looking at her.

“Oh, but Adrien, don’t worry! If anyone gets akumatized today it won’t be me. Not like you really cared in the first place, though. Am I right? Not about me or my feelings, at least. Anyways, nothing I’m feeling right now is negative enough to risk me getting akumatized, which is more than I can say about everyone else in this class right now. How many times would this be, Lila? Five? Six? Now I know Hawkmoth is a magical terrorist that takes advantage of people’s negative emotions, but I have to say anything more than 3 seems excessive. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it seemed almost like you want to be akumatized. Like you and Hawkmoth have some kind of deal. But of course, I’d never say anything like that without proof.” She spits out the last word like it’s a poison dart, and they all know just who’s heart it’s aimed at. Many of her classmates turn to look at Alya, who has paled and is now sitting in her seat frantically typing on her phone, looking more panicked after every result.

The eerie sharp smile is back on Marinette’s face, but this time, it’s smug. It’s knowing.

At that moment, Mme. Bustier rushes into the room with Mr. Damocles, Sabrina’s father, two uniformed officers, and a frantic and angry looking woman.

Lila pales as soon as she sees the woman come through the door, and she’s standing immediately, about to start spinning her web of lies before anyone can even speak, but Officer Raincomprix speaks over her, walking up to her with an open pair of handcuffs.

“Delilah Rossi. Hands behind your back.” She complies, still confused about what’s going on, still spouting nonsense about how surely it’s all just a misunderstanding, Marinette must have framed her or set her up, you see, she’s always had it out for her, this must be a mistake, but Raincomprix isn’t listening. “You are under arrest for collusion with a known terrorist, and aiding and abetting the aforementioned terrorist. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense.”

“You can’t arrest me! You don’t have any proof! Even if you did, I’m 15! No judge is gonna believe a bunch of wrinkly old men over a face like this! Besides, I’m the daughter of a diplomat. You can’t touch me. Tell them, mother!”

“Why do you think I’m here, Lila? The police came to me with this information and the substantial evidence against you, and I agreed to give them full cooperation. I have rescinded your diplomatic immunity. You will be punished to the full extent of the law, and hopefully in the process you will learn that your actions have consequences.”

The two uniformed officers all but carry a screeching, screaming Lila out of the class, and they all follow as she’s frog marched out of the building.

It’s when they’re on the sidewalk, about to shove her into the patrol car when it happens. An akuma is flying towards Lila as she stands next to the patrol car, and she lunges towards it. When she misses, when one of the cops grabs her arm again to get ahold of her, she twists out of his grip and runs towards it. She’s screaming “Hawkmoth! I knew you’d send an akuma for me!” She’s so close, and the entire class is split between trying to stop her or running as far away as possible, and then a yo-yo is sweeping through the air and capturing the akuma.

“Come on, Lila. Did you really think I’d let you get away with that again?” Ladybug says after she releases the purified akuma.

Lila is seething, and she lunges one more time, at Ladybug, but both of the uniformed officers have grabbed ahold of her again, so all she manages is spitting at Ladybug’s feet.

“Screw you, Ladybug. You and Marinette are two peas in a stupid pod. You’re both pathetic and fake and stupid. I’ll get my revenge.” The officers are now shoving her into the patrol car and all that can be heard is her screeching, “I’ll get her back for this!”

Ladybug steps up to Officer Raincomprix and Mme. Rossi and says, “I think it’d be prudent to get her out of the country as soon as possible, considering the fact that we’ve all seen just how willing she is to work with terrorists.”

Officer Raincomprix nods and says, “Absolutely. We’ll look into fast tracking her deportation.”

Mme. Rossi cringes and adds, “I’ll pay for it out of pocket if it’ll help speed up the process. It’s the least I can do after my daughter has been terrorizing your country and community like this.”

Ladybug nods and turns to leave, but Alya calls out to her, and as tempted as she is not to, she pauses.

“Yes, Mme. Césaire?”

“Well, I guess it’s kind of obvious from this interaction, but I have to ask, were you and Lila ever best friends?”

“No. We only interacted when I was purifying her akumas, and if she didn’t hate my guts before today, she definitely does now. We were never best friends. We were never even friends nor acquaintances. Which you’d have known, if you bothered to think about anything beyond getting views for your blog and asked me.”

Alya blanched at that, taken aback by the brutal honesty, and hangs her head in shame. “I know. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry, Ladybug. It won’t happen again.”

“Sorry means nothing to me. Your words mean nothing to me. Don’t give me your empty promises. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Show me you’re sorry. Don’t just tell me this won’t happen again, take steps to ensure it doesn’t. Take down the interview. Do your research. Trust your friends. Listen to them. Mme. Dupain-Cheng was the one who first came to me about Lila’s transgressions, and told me exactly what was happening in her classroom. What you all let happen. Do not ever let me hear about anything like this happening again. Understood?”

She looks up at the rest of the class that have clustered behind Alya while she was talking. “That goes for all of you. You are all on my list. I will be watching all of you, even when you think I’m not. You better not give me a reason to make a visit like this ever again.”

Alya is shocked speechless, and her classmates all look thoroughly guilty and shamed. It sends a thrill of satisfaction through her that almost makes her feel guilty. Key word: almost.

She flings her yoyo up and disappears from view, and touches down in an alley near the school to detransform.

Tikki flies up to her immediately and rests her entire self against Marinette’s cheek in as close to a hug as her tiny body can manage. “Oh, Marinette! That couldn’t have gone better if I orchestrated it myself! You were wonderful! I’m so proud of you!”

Marinette smiles and leans into the hug, heaving a sigh that releases all the tension she’s been holding in her over the past couple of months. She has no regrets. If any, it’s that she didn’t do this sooner.

She walks back into class with her chin up, shoulders back, and ignores every single sympathetic look thrown her way, every aborted wave to get her attention. She is above them all, and she always has been, but she’s just finally realized it.

*****

Her friendship with the class never goes back to the way it was. They’ve shown their true faces now, and she has forgiven them, but she will never forget. She’ll never forget how easily they tossed her to the side for the next shiny new thing. How readily, how eagerly they dismissed and belittled her. How quick they were to use things she told them in confidence, favors she did for them as tokens of friendship, against her. She’ll never forget the years of friendship and trust, something she thought was rock solid, crumbling like sand within a matter of mere months.

No. That trust can’t be built back up. It’s been swept away with the tide. It’s gone. There’s nothing left, nothing to build from, and Marinette doesn’t even want to bother trying. She knows now that it isn’t worth it, that she could never trust any of these people again.

Ladybug makes her own blog, the LadyBugOut, and makes her first post an official announcement that this is the only blog she’ll be endorsing from here on out, and all of the temporary heroes are being retired and will never wield any miraculous again due to things that have occurred in their civilian lives.

She pretends to be appropriately curious about why the majority of her class is down in the dumps the entire week after Ladybug makes her announcement, and tries not to seem too enthused when the views on LadyBugOut rise as the views for the Ladyblog start dwindling … and keep dwindling until Alya is getting tens of likes instead of the hundreds she was used to.

Nothing is ever the same, but that’s ok. It’s time for Marinette, and Ladybug, to move on. To be the hero she was always meant to be.

Now she has nothing holding her back.

[ratedbangtann]

Picture Perfect || KTH

As a plus size model, you're used to your fair share of ignorance and shaming. By now, it's water off a duck's back; you're a strong woman, hardened to it. But then there were those on the other end of the scale, who simply adored you and your body. Much like photographer, Kim Taehyung...

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Plus Size Reader (but please feel free to enjoy if you aren’t!) Word count: 7.8k Warnings: Fatphobia, derogatory terms, rude assholes, shy Tae (at first), slight manipulation (but opportunity to back out), taeconda, oral sex (m receiving), light spanking, BBW fetishizing, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: Welcome to another plus size reader fic! If you don’t consider yourself to be plus size, don’t worry - feel free to enjoy it anyway! 

***************************************

“You’re joking, right?” the ignorant voice of the photographer bellowed through the studio. You stood with your arms folded over your chest, pissed off at the vile and sleazy guy in front of you. Your agent beside you positively seething too. She had got you this gig, and the brand owners were more than happy to have you involved. And yet this prick…

“Problem, Mr. Carter?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. This is a lingerie shoot,” he said, incredulous as if his point were obvious.

“Yes, it is,” she stated, clearly impatient.

“I’m not photographing… her in lingerie,” he looked toward you in disgust, nose scrunched and forehead creasing all the way up to his non-existent hairline.

“Got a problem with me, have you?” you piped up. Already today you had had your hair and make-up done, and you were in your first set under your bathrobe ready for the shoot. And now, this asshole was refusing to photograph you as if it were his shoot?

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Don’t particularly wanna see some fat chick in a thong.”

Oh, how your blood boiled.

“Mr. Carter, is something the matter?” A gentleman you recognised to be the lingerie company’s co-CEO wandered over, with his business partner in tow. From what you could gather, they were a married couple; Cynthia designed the lines whilst Carlisle handled the business. They were a great team, and rapidly becoming some of the biggest names in the lingerie business.

“Sir, I’m sorry but I’m not photographing this. You must have a more attractive model…”

You’d dealt with pricks like this through your entire career; assholes who wrinkled their nose in disgust at your curves, your beautiful jiggly bits, your stretch marks, cellulite… You’d had to deal with being photoshopped to within an inch of your life and cut out of group shots completely. You’d been turned down for editorial spreads and commercials alike since day one. You’d grown a thick skin to it but it still pissed you off when someone was just as rude to you as this dickhead.

You loved your body, were proud of it. Sure, you were plus size. You weren’t skinny and slim or even simply just “thicc” but you were beautiful, and you’d made quite the name for yourself in the modelling world.

“I don’t see anything unattractive about Ms. _____,” Carlisle looked you up and down, turning back to Mr. Carter; Robert, you thought you heard someone say.

“I’m not photographing a fat girl!” he almost yelled, his fragile masculinity in tatters confronted by three women and a very in-tune and open minded man. You half expected him to stomp his foot like a child having a tantrum.

“Well then we’ll just have to find somebody who will, won’t we?” Carlisle smiled a sickly sweet smile at Robert. The kind that could rot your teeth.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his face turning red with rage.

“You’re fired, Mr. Carter. I suggest an attitude adjustment if you’d ever like to work in this town again,” Carlisle remained calm, gesturing to the door. The livid little man stormed out of the room, grabbing his kit along the way and slamming the door to the studio behind him, the few members of staff scattered around watching on in silence. “I’m so sorry about him. Ms. _____,” he turned to you, apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“That’s quite alright, he’s not my first ignorant asshole,” you smiled back.

“Shit, where the hell are we going to find a photographer at such short notice? _____ is already made up, we only rented the studio for the day and we could-“ Cynthia was panicking, rambling with her hands flinging about through the air as she paced back and forth.

“Honey, honey, relax… Let me make some calls. I know this guy, an old friend of mine. I’m sure he’s in town. Give me ten minutes,” he steadied her movements with his large hand on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she took a deep breath. How cute.

Carlisle left the room, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to get hold of whoever he knew. Cynthia turned to you, then.

“I really am sorry for that guy… If I’d have known he was like that I wouldn’t have hired him,” she scratched the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it, Cynthia, I’ve had a lot worse. Right, Mia?” Your agent beside you nodded with an unsatisfactory grimace on her face, recalling the amount of times she’d had to find you other shoots after being cast aside.

“90 percent the male specimen, of course,” she grumbled. Ah, Mia; her opinions were nothing if not colourful. Cynthia chuckled though, nodding in understanding.

“Well we’re honoured to have you model for us, ____. The new line is inclusive of all sizes and shapes, some to accentuate parts of the body whilst others to help discourage insecurities. We could think of no one better to showcase our hard work,” she smiled so brightly, genuinely excited to have you on board.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure! The sets are stunning, I’ve been a fan of your brand for a long time now.” The three of you stood chatting away for a little while, now with nothing to do until a photographer could be found.

“Honey, he’s on his way,” Carlisle stepped into the room with a smirk on his face. “I told you I could handle it.”

“And this is why I married you,” she laughs, pecking his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Oh, how sweet… If only you had the time to find yourself a kind and affectionate man like that. Alas, your career didn’t allow time for much of a social life.

“He’s the other side of town so it could still be a little while, but what do you say we get some drinks from the Starbucks across the street and some lunch in the meantime?” Carlisle suggested. Well, that was one way to kill some time…

*****

“Ah, Taehyung! How are you, man?” Carlisle’s voice was loud and boisterous as he chewed on his muffin, standing up to greet whoever had just walked into the studio. You turned to look, but Carlisle was a tall and broad man, covering most of the photographer’s frame.

“Doing well, Carl, how are you?” He sounded excited, like he was happy to see his friend once again.

“Yeah, pretty good! Have you met the wife yet?”

“Can’t say I have…”

“Ah, you must. Come on over… Cynthia!” he called to her, her head perking up from the table and chairs you were sat at covered in Starbucks wrappers. “Taehyung, this is my wonderful wife and designer of all our products; Cynthia Blake.”

Carlisle had shown the young photographer over to your table, now standing at the head and looking down at Cynthia, who stood up to shake Taehyung’s hand. He seemed a relatively shy looking man, camera bag slung over his back, black beret in place on his head. His hair curled out from underneath it in wild tendrils, framing his golden face.

He looked more like he’d be interested in artistic photography of scenery and still-life objects, judging by his clothing. Wide-leg cream pants, a black plain t-shirt and a brown suede waistcoat didn’t quite scream fashion photography, but you’d learned not to judge someone so soon in your years in modelling.

“Kim Taehyung, miss. Pleased to meet you, finally. Carlisle has told me a lot about you,” he bowed his head as he shook her hand. And then he was being introduced to Mia and yourself.

“…and this is ____, our model for the day,” Cynthia proudly showed you off to him, still sat in your bathrobe with full hair and make-up.

Your eyes met, and suddenly you could see his face so much clearer. Those beautiful big round eyes, that’s you could now see were slightly different in shape; one double lid, one mono-lid. His jawline that curved delicately and sharpened at his chin, 5 o’clock shadow evident. The freckles that landed on the end of his nose and in the waterline of his eyes; gentle little beauty marks…

You hadn’t noticed his eyes widen. It was almost like recognition, like he knew you from a past life. But he kept his composure and mumbled a shy hello, quieter than when he’d greeted Cynthia.

“Hi, Taehyung was it?” you shook his hand, noting the long fingers adorned in many rings and just how soft his palm was in yours. You tried to shake the feeling of attraction that was bubbling away inside you but it was difficult; you weren’t sure you had ever seen a man so devastatingly handsome.

“Y-yeah… pleasure to meet you. You look… stunning,” he chuckled nervously and turned back to Carlisle. “I’ll just need a few minutes to set up and we can get started.”

“Yeah, take your time, Tae,” he grinned, showing him over to the backdrops and light fixtures.

“He likes you,” Mia nudged your side, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up, he’s just shy…”

“______, he basically undressed you with his eyes! You saw it too, right Cynthia?” she turned for backup. Cynthia sat back down with a smile on her face.

“Oh, I saw it.”

“How professional of you both,” you teased, shaking your head with laughter. “I’m going to ask make up to do a touch up. I think lunch may have ruined my lips.”

Ignoring their little jeers and smug comments, you headed off to the little room to the left, filled with the garments you would be modelling throughout the day and a little dresser for the make-up artist to work her magic on you.

*****

“Alright, _____ if I could have you sat on the stool in the middle there… perfect. Cynthia, what are we achieving with this set?” Taehyung asked, wanting to know how he should ask you to convey the white lingerie with pretty white fluffy parts dangling from various places.

“Innocence and purity. The set itself is called ‘purity’, so something like that?” she gave her directions, and you worked your magic.

Now that you had taken off your robe and were parading around in the flattering white set, you felt your confidence sky-rocketing as it always did during a shoot. Nothing made you feel more powerful than having all eyes on you; especially in some of the prettiest and most body-friendly lingerie you had ever seen.

“Beautiful,” Taehyung commented, crouching down to get the perfect shots and play around with the lighting a little. Cynthia and Carlisle stood to the side, watching each photo pop up on the laptop set up. “It’s nice to work with a professional, you seem to need very little direction,” he complimented.

“She’s been in this game long enough,” Mia answered for you, you staying completely composed as he snapped away, flash dazzling.

“If you could just stand up for me, we’ll get rid of the stool there to get a few more shots of the lingerie itself.” Taehyung fiddled with some settings on his camera, while a staff member removed the stool from the shot. “Fantastic, if you could face the camera for a few, and then turn, we’ll get every angle.”

It was amazing, really; Taehyung staying as professional as composed as he was. Because Mia and Cynthia had been right. He was into you, very much so. The second he saw you, he thought you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth. Watching you pose so innocently and with absolute picturesque tranquillity in the most beautiful underwear he could imagine was affecting him more than the artist inside him would like to admit.

He’d done hundreds of shoots over the years, including nude and lingerie shoots and never, ever had he had such a problem focussing as he did today. But then, none of those shoots were of you.

“Tae, I think that’s plenty for Purity. _____, would you mind getting changed again for me, love? The deep green set will look beautiful with your skin tone, I suggest that one next,” Cynthia called to you.

“Ah, Evergreen?” you asked.

“That’s the one!” she clapped excitedly, filled with utter glee seeing her collection finally being tried out on a model. It was all becoming real for her; her second line of lingerie would be hitting the shelves very soon.

You headed back into the little room to change, Evergreen being a little more revealing and sultrier than Purity had been. The bra was a stunning forest green lace with almost a half-corset attached – fantastic support and helped to smooth out insecurities in the back. The briefs were high waisted and made in the same lace, with suspender clips dangling from them. And of course, to match; a stunning set of black suspenders, heels and a mesh black robe to go over the top. Modest, but not modest enough.

When you walked back out, Taehyung audibly gasped. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the blood travelling south. He averted his gaze, willing himself to calm down. Mia giggled to herself; aw, bless him, she thought.

“I knew it would look beautiful against your skin tone!” Cynthia clapped.

“Um, okay… can we have the stool back please, backdrop change, the ivy to drape over the back. _____, if you wouldn’t mind heading back over to the set and taking a seat,” Taehyung didn’t properly look up at you, giving you general directions and pretending to fiddle with his camera. And now you started to see it…

He was nervous.

The staff draped the ivy artistically over the backdrop, letting it hang down behind you to fit in with the evergreen vibe. You sat back down, getting into a slightly different position than before.

“What kind of look are we going for this time, Cyn?” you asked. This wasn’t going to be another innocent look.

“Um, more like a wood nymph, at one with nature, a little temptress perhaps?” she asked, whilst a hair stylist faffed with fitting little daisies into your hair.

Again, you did as instructed; dark, sultry eyes stared into the camera, as if tempting a human into the forest. You looked absolutely delectable, and it was causing huge issues for poor Taehyung. Well, one particularly huge issue. Thankfully for him, the way he crouched to take your photo hid it well. But it made life so much more difficult.

Mentally, he was cursing himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d worked with hundreds of models. Why were you the only one he’d ever…

In fact, for the rest of the shoot, the poor guy struggled. Each new set of lingerie posed new challenges, showing off your gorgeous body in new and different ways with different expressions and stories to accompany each one.

“Beautiful, truly! Wow. These photos will look stunning on the website!” Cynthia was positively beaming by the end. “That’s a wrap!”

Taehyung breathed a sigh of relief as he knelt down to start taking his camera apart, slotting the bits and pieces into each compartment of his bag. You simply stepped off the set, heading over to the laptop to flick through the photos.

Mia, however, was being her devious self. She had seen the photos, knew they were stunning. But she had also seen Taehyung’s reactions to each set, each pose. She knew about his big problem, and found it oh, so amusing to meddle.

“Taehyung, may I have a moment of your time?” she asked him, standing over him with a large smile on her face. Taehyung swallowed hard and nodded, standing upright to follow her over to the table at the back of the room where you’d earlier been sat drinking your Starbucks.

“I wondered if I may ask what kind of work you usually do? I know this was a favour for a friend of ours, but what is your style?” she asked him, pulling a chair for him to sit opposite her.

“Usually editorial fashion shoots, a lot of scenery and travel in my spare time though,” he smiled sweetly, a little more comfortable now that he no longer had his problem nor did he have to focus on you and your beautiful curves, the stunning lingerie, thinking of what he would do given the chance…

No, Tae. You’re drifting again. Focus, he told himself.

“I see, it’s just… _____ has been looking for just the right photographer to do some nude shots. Tasteful of course, we’re not talking playboy but…”

Tae’s blood ran cold. The flush in his cheeks must have drained, skin paling at the thought. Mia was still talking, but he could barely listen.

“I mean she’s been wanting to focus on a body positivity campaign for a while, but she hasn’t quite figured out who to trust to photograph her in just the right way, do you know what I mean?”

Tae cleared his throat, bringing himself back down to reality. “Uh yeah, sure…”

“Your shots today were stunning and I’m sure she agrees. I was thinking perhaps you could give those photos a go? You can be as artistic or as simple as you like with them, but I trust your judgement. Googled you to check out your other work too. Impressive, truly.” Mia was rambling on, but Tae could hardly take in a word of what she was saying.

“Th-thank you…” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

“So... are you interested?” she asked, “we can draw up a contract quite easily, _____ is very easy to work with.”

“S-sure… Yeah, okay. Sounds great,” he agreed, all whilst his head was screaming at him for being a moron. If he couldn’t control his damn hard on today, how on earth would he cope with full nudity? You were utterly bewitching. This couldn’t end well, surely?

“Fantastic! I’ve got some calls to make, would you mind letting her know you’re up for it?” she asked, pulling her phone from her back pocket and already standing up and sauntering out of the door to make her calls in the hall. Tae didn’t have a chance to object.

So instead, he got up to find you. You were no longer working your way through the photos, and the majority of the set had been cleared away. You were nowhere to be seen.

“Carlisle, where did _____ go?” he asked the couple who were packing things into cases.

“Oh, she’s in the back room, probably packing her things away, changing. Do you need something?” he asked.

“Her agent said she wanted another shoot with me, I just wanted a word about it,” he nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, well just go knock, honey. I’m sure she’d be happy to chat,” Cynthia smiled motioning toward the door you’d walked through only moments ago. With that, she slung a satchel over her shoulder and picked up a case of props and set pieces. “We’re off, we have so much to do. Really thought, Taehyung, thank you so, so much for helping out today.”

“Yeah, thanks man. Such short notice too, you really did us a favour. The photos are beautiful. I’ll drop your cheque over to wherever you’re staying, just text me the address. I’m sorry we can’t hang out this evening. You free Thursday?” Carlisle was busy picking up cases and trunks and bags to leave with as he spoke, but Tae knew just how genuine he was about meeting.

“Yeah, Thursday evening would be great, perhaps dinner if you’re both available?” he smiled sweetly.

“Absolutely, we’ll be in touch! Thanks so much, Tae! Bloody life saver,” Carlisle patted his back, scurrying out of the studio along with his wife and the rest of the staff that were left behind.

For a moment, Tae stood in the silence, letting himself breathe deep. He was readying himself to talk to you, to approach you after he’d spent nearly four hours photographing you in skimpy and gorgeous outfits. Christ, how was he ever going to do a nude photoshoot for you?

Professionalism. That’s all it took.

He sauntered over to the door you were hidden behind and knocked perhaps a little heavier than intended. He heard something clatter inside and a quiet “shit” as if you’d dropped something.

“Yep, come in!” you called when you’d picked the rail up. Thankfully you’d already packed the lingerie into a small case on the floor – freebies from Cynthia as extra payment – so it was just the empty rail that had tipped. The door clicked open and shut again and you turned, expecting to see Mia.

“Oh, sorry… I assumed you were dressed. I’ll come back,” Taehyung’s deep voice sounded so shocked to see you still in the lingerie set from the last photos; a pretty deep purple set; high waisted purple mesh thong with white daisies dotted all over and a pretty bralette with surprising support to match. Cynthia had called it Asters, a type of purple daisy to combine the two elements together.

“Wait, it’s fine. I mean, I’ve been wearing… not much else all afternoon,” you chuckled, unashamed. Tae couldn’t really argue with that. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just… well your agent was talking to me, about a shoot you wanted to do. She said I should ask you about it?” he averted his gaze but stayed in the doorway. You were a little too close for his own comfort; the room you were in was no bigger than an average closet, and the dressing table took up most of it, let alone the rail.

“Oh, she did?” you asked, taking a seat on the stool in front of the table. “What shoot?”

He really couldn’t look you in the eye, let alone anywhere else. If his problem arose again, there was no way of hiding it. He did his best to direct his through process to professionalism once again.

“Yeah, some kind of artsy nude shoot, for a body positivity campaign?”

You watched in amusement as he looked everywhere in the tiny room other than at you. This is exactly what Mia had been talking about earlier. Halfway through the shoot, she’d handed you a bottle of water and told you to watch him; he couldn’t look you in the eye. He really was attracted to you. How cute.

The more you looked, the more you had noticed it. He blushed at the slightest eye contact, willing himself to calm the hell down with some deep breaths. And each time sent a tiny little thrill through you, so you played up to you, practically ‘making love to the camera’ as the old industry professionals used to say.

“Oh, that? Hmm, yeah. I don’t know about that anymore…” you lied. You knew exactly what you were doing, leading the horse to water but… would he drink?

“Oh… She said you were really excited about it, I just thought-“

“Yeah I don’t think people would like it. No one wants to see me naked,” you scoffed. Another lie. You had a huge online following who would love the positivity it spread, congratulate you on it, call you a queen and a goddess.

“I-I’m sure that’s not true,” he stuttered, eyes flicking up to meet yours just for a second. He blushed again and you had to do your very best not to giggle.

“I guess I just don’t feel too sexy, lately. Despite this,” you gestured to your attire, his gaze following your hand. Honestly, like a moth to a flame…

He realised what he’d done as his gaze reached your ample thighs and quickly readjusted his view, back up to a very interesting spot on the wall above your head.

“Well, um… I’m sorry you feel like that, you really are sexy,” he mumbled. Bingo.

“Do you think so?” you asked innocently, feigning disbelief.

“Y-yeah… I mean, your photos today came out really, um… beautiful.”

“Well, you’re just a good photographer,” you laughed softly, watching him so carefully.

“Photographers are only as good as their subjects, Miss _____,” he smiled at you then, sweet and unmenacing. This guy was too pure for his own good, surely. “Truthfully, you’re a beautiful woman. You had so much confidence on set today, I had no idea you weren’t feeling it…”

You smiled down at your hands in your lap, purposefully twiddling them before placing your palms flat on your thighs, rubbing them up and down slowly. His eyes followed them, his jaw hanging open just a little as he lost himself in thought.

Thoughts of how soft your thighs might feel under his touch, how goosebumps might raise at the feeling of his rings on the warm flesh. Thoughts of how soft and supple you would feel, how pretty and puffy you might be between them…

“D-do you think I should do the campaign?” you interrupted his train of thought.

“Definitely,” he said with such conviction. He hadn’t meant to; not really. But… here he was. And he stood his ground.

“And you’d be okay with that?” you asked, innocently.

“Of course, I’m interested in making art.” He tried to sound firm, confident but the little quiver of his bottom lip gave him away.

“Making art… with me?” Oh, you were really pushing him now. Was that a hint of seduction he heard in your tone? Or was he imagining things?

“S-sure…” he wavered. “I’d be honoured.” Why did he say that?! He mentally cursed himself.

“Honoured?” you giggled to yourself, “that’s sweet. I’m sure you’re quite the artist.” He shrugged, starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the small room with you, being so close and so pathetically entranced by the smallest things you did.

When you stood up, he practically tumbled backwards, back hitting the door with a thump.

“Oh, shoot… are you okay?” you asked, rushing forward to help him as he groaned at the sudden contact. But that didn’t help the situation at all, sending him into further panic at the now close proximity.

“F-fine, sorry…”

“Taehyung, you look nervous…” you softened your voice, stepping towards him with mostly concern on your face, but just a hint of playfulness. He dare not believe that’s what he saw though.

“I-I…” he stuttered, not knowing what to say and oh god, you were so close to him now. So close he could smell your perfume; something expensive, perhaps Chanel?

“What is it?” you pressed, but he was starting to lose his resolve. He had to say something, surely. Anything… Right now, he just looked like a bumbling moron.

“I-I just, um…”

“Tell me, maybe I can help…”

“Fuck, you just… you turn me on, okay? Fuck,” he cursed, looking away from you to stare into the top corner of the room, feeling ashamed of himself. He was better than this. A professional. What had you reduced him to?

You simply smirked, stepping even closer to him, until your chests were almost touching.

“I can see that…” you whispered, eyes drifting down. Low and behold, there was the outline of a rather big problem. Tae couldn’t even look, knowing exactly what you were referring to and feeling nothing but shame.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I swear I’m more professional than this, I just-“ You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him and his eyes went wide, looking down at the digit with surprise.

“You turn me on too,” you smirk, biting down on your bottom lip, still painted from the shoot.

“I-I… I do?”

“Oh yes… Wanna know how much?” you asked cheekily, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, slowly guiding his hand but giving him plenty of opportunity to pull away should he want to. But he didn’t want to. Not at all.

You coaxed his fingertips to grade over the mesh of the lingerie, pressing them to your mound where a tiny little patch of wetness had seeped through the cotton lining inside and stained the material in a dewy wetness.

“Oh, shit…” he breathed, finally looking down at where his hand just barely touched you.

“And that’s just the outside,” you taunted, bottom lip pressed between your teeth. He looked down into your eyes for a moment, wondering if he should… But you answered the question for him, before he’d even had a chance to think it.

Hurriedly, you pressed your lips to his, noting immediately how soft they felt against your own and how hesitant they were in that first split second. But in the end his reaction was visceral, softened lips pushing against yours with all the pent up sexual tension he’d been harbouring for hours.

The hand you barely had a grasp on snaked around your waist, pulling you to him and colliding your full and soft body into his. He wanted to feel every inch of you, every part he’d been photographing all day. And you were going to let him.

When you didn’t immediately shove him away from you, he conceded to his own desires, letting himself become completely hazed with lust. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters before he went in to totally devour your mouth. Pressed against him this way, you could feel his body responding. Of course, he was already stiff beneath those cream trousers, but pushing against your thigh you could feel the size of him, mouth watering. You wondered if perhaps he might like to feel just what your mouth could do for him.

Wasting no more time, you pushed the suede waistcoat from his shoulders, slipping it off and throwing it haphazardly over the rail to your left. And not forgetting that adorable beret too, his hair flopping freely in beautiful curls that fell into his hooded eyes. His assault on your lips never faltered, his grip on your waist only loosening to remove the waistcoat.

You pulled barely millimetres away from his lips, hands gripping at his shirt to at least keep his chest pressed to yours as they both heaved with breathlessness.

“Wanna taste you…” you whispered, hot breath fanning over his lips. Your filthy words sent a thrill down his spine, and before he could utter another syllable your hands were dropping to his zipper, pulling it down and popping the button on his trousers. The loose fit fell down high thighs unaided, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of light grey boxers, his cock straining marvellously against them.

Gently you ghosted your fingertips over his length, earning a shudder and a sharp intake of breath. “Shit,” he whispered, chasing your lips again with a frantic kiss, large hands holding onto your cheeks to stop you from evading him.

You pushed your hand into the waistband, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and feeling just how thick he was; your fingers couldn’t meet no matter how much you stretched them.

“_____, are you sure you want this?” he asked, doing his very best not to rut his hips into your hand.

“I’ve never slept with someone I worked with before, but absolutely. You’ve been driving me crazy, Taehyung…” you whined, slowly pumping your hand along his shaft, neglecting his tip. “Do you want me?” As silly question really, given your current state.

“So much,” he groaned, the pleasure of your fist starting to affect him. You giggled mischievously and dropped to your knees, leaving him staring down at you as you pulled his underwear down, freeing his dick with a triumphant bounce. He really was above average, and the idea of swallowing what you could was making you drool.

In no mood to waste time teasing, you enveloped the first few inches in warm wetness, suckling as if he were the sweetest lollipop despite the salty tang of pre-cum. Your tongue swirled around him a few times before lying flat under his shaft so you could lean further forward to take more of his length.

Above you, Tae was stunned into silence, heavy breaths all that wold pass his lips. He watched you like a hawk, terrified that should he look away, you and your wonderful mouth would disappear. His hands braced himself on the door behind him, keeping him upright as pleasure ripped through his body.

You took what you could into his throat before your gag reflex started to show itself, having to still use an entire fist around his base to completely envelope him. Your first twisted and pumped in rhythm with the way your head bobbed on his cock, every so often hollowing your cheeks to create a harsher drag that had him hissing between clenched teeth.

“A-ah, shit…” he cried, his head throwing back against the door with a thud and squeezing his eyes shut. “How are you this, good? Jesus…”

The giggle that his cock muffled sent a new wave of desire flooding through him. He didn’t even know that were possible, but somehow the more time you spent sucking, pumping and sheathing his cock in your mouth and throat, the more his grip on reality loosened and he found himself swimming in arousal.

It didn’t seem fair that he was getting such incredible head whilst you were sat before him, already soaking your panties and being devoid of any stimulation; where were his manners? If he was unable to be a professional right now, he would at least a gentleman.

Begrudgingly, he pushed at your shoulders, hands finding yours that gripped his thighs, nails digging into the flesh. He pulled you back to a standing position and threw himself at you, lips and teeth crashing against your own desperately.

“Hardly fair that I get all the attention here, is it sweat pea?” The pet name was so innocent in any other context, but here and now you heard it very differently. His tone was gravelling and darker than before, shrouded in animalistic need.

“Oh, I don’t mind. You did us a favour today, after all. Think of it as… extra payment?” You grinned, hands gripping the black t-shirt he still wore and eyes scanning the lips millimetres from yours you’d just been attached to.

“No need, love. Carlisle is paying a bonus. You owe me nothing at all.”

“Ah, well in that case perhaps you should just fuck me then, hm? Even the score a little…” you laughed, attaching yourself back to those beautiful lips for another heated kiss. The room around you felt even smaller this way, perhaps because the body heat radiating off the pair of you was making the tiny little room unbearably stuffy.

He pushed you backwards until your butt hit the edge of the dressing table, stool kicked underneath it. Taehyung never retracted his mouth from yours, not even when he started to fiddle with the straps of the bralette and pull them down your arms. With no clasps to undo, he simply pulled the material over your head, letting your stunning breasts free for him to grab with both hands, mouth dipping down to immediately suck at one of your nipples.

“Mmf, Taehyung…” you moaned, breathier than you’d expected but the feeling had stolen your breath away completely. Your past lovers had been so greedy with no real idea what they were doing, frantically attempting to hold as much of your as they could in their hands, but Taehyung had a purpose, like he was far more skilled and perhaps used to the company of a much larger girl. Every swirl of his tongue, every tactful squeeze of your breasts was used almost like a weapon against you.

In such close proximity you could feel his erection against your tummy, pressing against the softness. You wondered if he liked that; the way your extra pounds felt against his still-wet shaft. He seemed to enjoy your body the way it was, rolls and all, so perhaps the feeling of your chub on his aching cock was nothing short of heavenly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when his hips rocked against you, stomach rippling under his movements as he groaned against your nipple, biting down on the hardened nub just a little.

“You like that, huh? Like how my body feels against you?” you teased, stroking the curls out of his eyes with gentility. He just growled in response, sucking harder at your nipple to have you crying out. You took that as a yes. “Tae please… Need more,” you begged, the wetness between your thighs growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Without detaching his lips from your breast, he shoved a hand into your panties, fingers immediately coated in slick as he pressed two to your clit and began to swirl them in circles. Every single move felt calculated, but they couldn’t possibly be, with how fast things were moving and how quickly he responded to you. He must just be insanely skilled or intuitive. You weren’t sure you’d be able to let this man out of sight after today.

He kept up his ministrations for a little while before growing tired of waiting, impatience getting the better of him. His hands were on your waist and flipping you around quickly, forcing you to hold yourself up on your elbows while he made light work of slipping the high-waisted thong from your body.

The sight before him lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t stop himself from lightly swatting at your exposed ass, marvelling the way it jiggled and bouncing at the slightest touch. For good measure, you wiggled your hips a little, cheeks rippling to the effect.

“Wow…” he sighed, hands roaming over your cheeks and letting one dip between your legs, parting them enough to slip two fingers through your folds and into your entrance. You groaned at the feeling, finally, finally, having something inside you. Sure, you’d prefer his cock, but he had to prep you. He was so large, you had to get used to something before he let himself bury deep inside you. And lord, the rings on his fingers felt heavenly.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” he whispered, pushing a third finger into you and spreading you open.

“Tae, please. I’m ready, please…” you pleaded, pushing your hips back against his fingers as he curled them inside you. A jolt of electricity shot through your pelvis, forcing you forward again as Taehyung chuckled darkly behind you.

“Where’s that confidence gone, hm? Did you think you were in control?” he jeered, curling his fingers again and making your legs shake with pleasure. “Beg me again. Beg for my cock.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Please! Please, I need it. Need your cock, Tae. Please…” You tried to keep your voice down, aware there might still be people outside but only Taehyung knew the only person who hadn’t left yet was Mia. And she was making phone calls outside.

“You sound beautiful when you’re needy, love. But I have to admit, I don’t think I could wait much longer,” he confessed, now lining the tip of his cock with your entrance after pulling his fingers from you. You mewled a pathetic response, interrupted by the satisfying stretch of him pushing into you.

“Oh, my god…” you hummed, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips so tight he could leave bruises. He kept himself composed enough to slowly but surely bottom out, wanting nothing more than to smack his hips against yours. But he was a gentleman, and he would remain thoughtful enough to keep your comfortable.

You felt yourself falling deeper into the throws of bliss as he dragged himself out again slowly, only to push back a little faster and finding a rhythm that felt unbelievably good for both of you. Your spine tingled with elation, every deep thrust hitting just where you needed him to. His skill seemed to transcend not only from foreplay but to fucking you silly too.

“You’ve driven me… mmf… fucking crazy all day,” he muttered, articulated with a particularly hard thrust. In his head, Taehyung was counting his blessings and thanking his lucky stars that he could be balls deep in you right now. Had you never made any kind of move on him, his desires would have merely fizzled out. God bless your confidence.

He leaned over your back a little more, pistoning his hips as you pushed up to meet him, his lips trailing along your shoulder and neck. You couldn’t stop the soft moans escaping your lips, hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, to hold him against you and tangle in the ends of his curls as he kissed along the flesh.

“Every set of lingerie… fuck, it looked so good on you. You’re so beautiful, so fucking beautiful…” he mumbled between kisses, holding your hips still to slap his against you. The sounds filling the tiny room were some of the lewdest you had ever heard, absolutely hypnotic.

Having Taehyung looming over you this way, fucking himself so far into you and sloppily biting and sucking at your shoulder and neck, you could have sworn you were dreaming. It was too perfect, felt too damn good. Never had a man made you orgasm simply with penetration, but you could feel it building, his skill and his size playing huge parts in your undoing.

His thrusts never faltered, never once slowed. He changed his angle a few times, but never ceased his movements. And before long, you were on the brink of falling apart.

“T-Tae… Gonna cum…” you warned, turning your head to look him in the eye over your shoulder.

“Me too, baby… You feel so good, I can’t help it. Cum for me, yeah?” he panted, pushing your hair out of your face and reconnecting his lips to yours in a sultry, slow and passionate make out. You mewled at the contact, letting him invade all of your sense at once and finally, the coil that had been building in your abdomen wound too tight, and you snapped.

Your legs shuddered, your back arched and your loud moans were swallowed whole by his kiss. Pleasure burst through your entire body, every nerve ending lighting up like a firework and detonating at the exact same moment.

Your pussy clenched around him so hard that Tae struggled to keep his rhythm, simply being dragged back in by your walls instead but the fight was inconceivably good, pulling him to the edge too. He frantically chased that high, whimpering against your lips as he continued to kiss you, wanting nothing more than to feel as close to you as he could.

You came back down just in time for his release, able to savour the warmth that filled you as he came. He was sure he had never cum so hard let alone as much; the pair of you were very aware of the way his cock squelched now with each slide while he slowed his hips. You could feel the mix of your arousal and his cum starting to seep from where the two of you were still connected, sliding down your inner thighs.

His hips stopped rolling, and the both of you stayed very still for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality. His forehead rest on your shoulder while you held yourself up, turning to press a light kiss to his temple and nuzzle into the soft mop of curls. And then he was chuckling to himself, running his fingers down the length of your arm.

“What’s funny?” you grinned; his laugh was infectious.

“I just… I swear, I’m more professional than this.” You laughed again with him, a blush creeping onto your already flushed face.

“Me too, usually…” you sniggered. He kissed your shoulder again and straightened up, allowing you to turn around and perch on the edge of the dressing table. You fixed your hair out of your eyes while he pulled his underwear and trousers up from where they pooled around his ankles. He looked around the room to find the bathrobe you’d worn earlier that day, draping around your shoulders with care so you could cover yourself.

“I was kind of lying earlier… I do want to do that campaign, I was just-“

“Manipulating me? I figured…” he smirked, slipping back into his waistcoat and picking up his beret.

“Then why did you-?”

“Swept up in the moment, I suppose. And I didn’t actually catch on until your hands were on my dick,” he shrugged, earning a laugh from you. “All I knew was I wanted you, you were in lingerie and getting closer…” He laughed with you, fixing his beret to his head and tucking his curls back into it. A comfortable silence settled over you both, post-coital smiles stretched across your faces.

“So that campaign… Are you interested?” you asked, folding your arms over your covered chest. His face contorted into one of exaggerated thought, his finger tapping at his chin.

“A day with you alone in a studio, creating beautiful art whilst you’re completely nude… Hm, this is a hard decision,” he mocked. You swatted his arm playfully, both laughing together. You liked how comfortable you felt with him, how wide the smile on your face was. It was intriguing; perhaps you could see yourself enjoying his company in future, not just his sexual prowess.

He stepped toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist casually and drawing a soft line down your jaw with his finger.

“I was actually hoping that you might be free for a drink, or dinner sometime soon. But yes, I’ve be honoured to photograph you for your campaign.”

“Well then if I may be so bold; what are you doing once you leave this studio?” you asked, straightening his beret for him.

“A lonely pizza and a bottle of beer for one. But I think I may have just had a better offer…” his voice lowered to something akin to seductive again, the smirk returning to his face.

“I think you might have. Let me change into some actual clothes, maybe we can grab dinner?”

“Absolutely. Anywhere you choose,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet impromptu kiss. You sank into it, before pushing him back to head over to the little case you’d been packing, pulling out the casual dress you’d worn to the studio that morning. Taehyung made no move to leave the little dressing room, leaning his back against the door and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You’re sticking around?” you asked.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to miss the show…”

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Misjudgment

Summary: can you do a losers club x reader where the losers save the reader from the bowers gang so they invite her to the losers club, except stan doesn’t trust her bc he’s stan. so then the reader confronts him abt it and then they become friends?

Being the new kid in any new school is difficult a label designed and slapped on your forehead to follow you around and attrack attention because of it. Derry middle school was no exception, and in fact, to you knowledge, was even worse than any other school you had ever been too. Your parents switched jobs a lot, and with that came moving around heaps of times too, so being the new kid wasn’t a state-of-the art experience for you. 

It still sucked, walking into a school, your peers huddled together in group while you, the loner, picked at your fingernails to appear busy and to not get caught staring longingly as two friends giggled and talked about their crushes to one another.

The first time you spotted Bill, leader of the infamous loser club you would soon become a part of, was the same day you first witnessed Henry’s psychotic behavior, plundering Bill’s book bag and lighting it on fire mere inches away from the poor kids face. You had stomped over, snatching the bag out of Henry’s hands, the books were mostly destroyed and missing, and handed it back to the boy who scrambled up.

‘You better stay the fuck away from me you fucking hoer. You must either have a Deathwish or want to date B-b-billy,’ he mocked,’ enough that you don’t care who you piss of, and that mistake, can be deadly here in my town.’

Bill thanked you, asked for your name and invited you to join in on a birdwatching retreat him and his friend were going on, but you declined. The altercation left you rattled and spooked, and you didn’t know Bill or any of his friends, all strangers in a town of even more strangers, and went back home.

That decision had both negative and positive outcomes attached to it. Bowers awaited you along with his goons, emptying a slushie on your head and spitting in your face and hair, humiliating you to the best of their abilities. At one point, they tried to glue a freshly bought pad to your skirt, their tyranny halted as Bill and his followers threatened to call the police on them.

‘That’s what being brave will get you in this town’, Mike said, staring the bowers gang off as they .

‘Yeah, but luckily there’s strength in numbers.’

‘Yup, welcome to the losers club new kid. Ben, you’ve been kicked off the nickname ‘new kid’, I need to find you a new one.’ Richie pondered, tapping his fingers to his chin as he came up with a new nickname for Ben.

Persuading Richie into giving him a different derogatory name was enough for Ben to accept you with open arms in the group, as did almost everyone else, and you gained six new friends, a huge upgrade from the zero friends you had prior to them. The hospitality showed, and you were never forced to eat lunch or walk to class by yourself any longer.

The losers club consisted of seven people, but to your parents you vowed that there we’re only six friends you engaged with, because the seventh member, Stanley, was not your friend. At most, the two of you were acquaintances, people that hung out because of mutual friends.

He never liked you or made an effort to befriend you, his cold demeaner deterring and dynamite to your time dedicated to the losers. Not once did he address you personally, and if someone inquired a question and you would go to respond, Stanley would talk over you, like you were never there in the first place. The whole situation, that you had no inkling on how you ended up in the first place, put a damper on the blossoming friendship, and you often found yourself nail-biting tense, on the lookout for the day the other losers would be tired of the tense underlying issues themselves and kick you to the curb.  

This unease pushed you to confront Stanley about his behavior towards you, as you did not want to end up alone again, and you adored the friends you had made in the losers club too much to let go without a fight.

The opportunity to do this arose one day after school, when only Eddie and Richie, both lounging in the hammock, and Stanley and you are around in the clubhouse. You’re sketching in the a notebook, the one you and Bill share, to compare  various techniques and color schemes, and also because it’s fun and interesting to observe what someone else is crafting.

No one besides Bill and you know of its existence, but it’s not strictly a secret, it’s more of a - none of the others care so why tell them-? You’re seated in the stack of cushions, plumped up by Eddie, in order to protect ones ass against blisters, since that’s thing apparently, and Stanley is fully emerged in a book, as far away from you as the small, incepted space allows.

The drawing is coming along pretty well, the sketch portraying the clubhouse itself and it’s inhabitants, and you’re focusing on measuring the length between the hatchet and the far wall, when Stanley spots the book in your lap.

‘That’s Bill’s,’ he snidest, crossing the room in no time to protectively grab it and cage it in his arms.

‘I know that’, you secure, reaching for the book but too short to actually clasp it. ‘I borrow it from him.’

Stanley stares you down with a level headed look, ‘Oh, really?’ He says so sarcastically you urge to rip out his tongue and render him silent.

‘Yes really. What’s the problem with that Stanley?’

‘Stan the man, chill out’, Richie laughs on edge, squirming in his place as he and Eddie watch the situation unfold.

‘No fuck that. What the fuck did I do to get you to hate me so much?’

‘You know what you did.’

‘Enlighten me, fucking please Stanley.’  The hostility swarming around the two of you is palpable, and it’s containing to build to a crescendo neither are prepared for. His admission could potentially dissolve the undercover threat, a way for you to explain or fix the thing you display that Stanley contempt. But that can only be done if the thing gets pointed out, which so far, it hasn’t.  

‘You are conspiring with Bowers and Patrick, I am onto you.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Just admit it.’

‘Okay, I fucking admit I’m colluding with the same douchebags that tried to defoule me. You got me there Stanley’, you’re seething, rage vibrating in every pore. Richie and Eddie attempt to deflate the situations, but glares from Stanley and you dispirited their focus.

‘Stan, come on,’ Eddie pacifies, ‘why would she do that?’

‘Is it not it convenient that she just so happened to be at the same time and place as Bill is getting beat up? And that she gets attacked right after but somehow escaped any physical damage? Who knows what secrets she’s been tattling?’

‘Well I’m sorry, let me go to them and ask if they would be so kind to punch me in the face’, your voice got more and more hysterical with every word, and you bend down your knees making eye contact with Stanley as you mock him.

‘Stan Urine, This isn’t ‘The Soldier’, they’re no such thing as spies, although Miss K in a spy suit is the fantasy to have for all my wet dreams.’ Richie vulgar joke goes by unnoticed, you and Stan involved in a staring match. You’re the one that breaks eye contact, huffing as you slide on your heels and move to leave.

‘Fine, whatever, I pick up on when I’m not wanted.’

‘No wait. Y/N, don’t go.’  

‘Stan the man gets prickly around the time his period is due, chalk it up to that.’

‘Shut the fuck up Richie no I don’t.’

You force the handle up, resting it a bit above your head and pause, sighing. ‘I’m not conspiring with Bowers, I just wanted to make friends.’ The latch gravitates to the floor after you’ve climbed out, and with it a chapter of your life, now it’s back to being friendless.

Four steps away from the clubhouse, the latch opens again and out tumbles Stan, meticulously lifting himself up by the piece of hardwood that is unscathed with dirt from the ground, and sprints to catch up with you.

‘I am sorry’, he says, flabbergasting you. ‘I should have been more open and accepting, and not my judgmental, evil self. I am not myself if I haven’t eaten a snicker and I apologize,’ Stan rolls his eyes.

‘Those lines were fed to you by Richie’, you state matter of fact, a smile tugging up your lips in spite of your earlier mood set.

‘No they weren’t’, elevates from below ground, conforming your suspicions.

‘Okay, yeah partly. But I do need to apologize. Being so antagonistic was wrong and unnecessary. Can we start over?’

‘I mean, give me back my notes and we’ll make a deal out of it?’

‘Of course.’

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 13

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, some smutty thoughts... 

w/c: 2.2k

A/N: Lucky number 13! I’m honestly so caught off gaurd by all the love Ive been receiving on The Winter Ghost. I see all your late night binge sessions and I am SO immensely greatful for your interest. When I first started writing this I didnt really think anything of it, but youve all lit a fire under my ass and for that, I thank you! So please, enjoy and reblog and like if you feel so inclined. 

His hot breath fanned across your face, sending you into a frenzy like state you had never known before. Heavy breathing, mostly on your part as he placed excruciatingly slow kisses across your jaw. You needed him. More than you’d ever needed anything in your life. It made you sick. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked in a low seductive voice. Swiftly he wrapped his metal fingers around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you gasp. You clawed at his chest, drunk on his murderous touch. You wanted him to make you hurt as bad as your heart did. You couldn't possibly hate a person more than you hated yourself right now. 

“Answer my question.” He shouted, sending a ripple of ecstasy through your body. 

“No. I could never,” You gasped, choking as the walls of your throat began to collapse. 

“Liar.” He sneered. 

You let out an involuntary moan. 

“You good, Y/n?” Sam asked, sitting next to you on the couch as he, Nat, Wanda and Shuri all ate breakfast around the kitchen island. Your hand was lightly wrapped around your neck where Bucky’s was just a moment ago. 

“Yeah, fine.” You squeeked.

But you weren't. You hadn’t been since that morning in the hallway with Bucky. You could still feel the sting he had left behind from his touch. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even begin to unpack that question. Psychiatric help would be a start, though. 

After your memory had returned, the nightmares seemed to subside, only to be replaced with the image of Bucky, devoid of all emotion, seething in rage at your quips. By the third night, you would have gladly have traded, knowing that this was so much worse. 

You couldn't keep excusing your vile thoughts as his fault. They weren't, not entirely. You were the one waking up a needy mess every morning.

“Hey.” Bucky's husky voice filled your senses causing you to stiffen at the sound. The team around you said their hello’s while you tried to refrain from gawking. You had done your very best to avoid him as much as you could, but there were only so many places to hide. Whenever you bumped into each other he would keep his head down and you would run in either direction.

“Steve’s on his way back today. He left to meet Vision and gather intel on an active Hydra base located somewhere on the border of Germany.” Wanda’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name. This must be the famous Android she's always gushing about.  

“Pack up… We ship out first thing tomorrow morning.” Bucky declared, peaking your interest. It had been way too long since you had been back in the field, this was amazing. You could feel the excitement bubbling out of your chest vanish when Bucky’s eyes glanced at you. 

“Y/n, you can uh, keep Shuri company while we're away.” You blinked at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“No fucking way.” You scoffed. You were not missing out on this opportunity to give Hydra a taste of their own ‘serum’, so to speak. 

‘Captain's orders.” He deadpanned, averting his gaze to the ceiling. You stared at him, lost for words with needy eyes. He’d never tell you, but it terrified him when you looked like that. Small, fragile, though he knew better. He would kill himself before he tainted you. But that didn't make the idea any less intriguing.

“And since when do you listen to Captain's orders?” Nat spoke up before you even got the chance. You nodded violently, looking back to Bucky who only sighed. 

“You know very well why she can't go.” He muttered, fighting tooth and nail not to look at you again. You could sense his uncomfortability but you couldn't look away. 

“She’s not going, then I’m not going.” Wanda sulked. 

“Me too.” Sam mocked her tone. “Seriously, Buck. She’s a tank, we could use her.” He finished, more serious this time. 

Bucky huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his flesh fingers. “You gotta take that up with Steve. He and I aren't really on the best of terms right now.” He spoke, annoyance dripping from the last sentence. 

“Easy, I’ll take care of it.” Nat said to Bucky, but she sent a wink at you. 

You were so excited you almost leaped from your seat. You couldn't wait to blow some shit up!

……………………………………….

The next morning you woke up extra early, just to get a jump on everything. Nat had fought with Steve all last night, but eventually he conceded on the sheer fact that if you were there, it would mean double the Wanda power. This was a big base, one he had known of for quite some time now, but it required extra attention. They had been working on recreating your serum, but so far to no avail. You knew exactly where they were going wrong of course. But Steve explained they had been testing it out of Hydra members. The lucky few who survived may not have your powers, but they were still strong. He’d need all the help he could get.

After you were packed you dragged your duffle to Shuri’s lab. She had been working on a few new weapons she wanted you to pack. Just in case, she said. You got there in no time flat, literally vibrating with excitement. 

“You're sure about this?” She asked. 

“Absolutely.” You beamed. She signed, and handed you a small ring. 

“What's this?” You asked, holding the small band in your fingers. 

“It’s a beacon. It will help you hold onto your borrowed energies for longer. It’s like a mini you, only better.” She paused, “Speaking of, are you going to tell me what's in that serum of yours or am I just going to have to keep guessing?”

“I think it’s better kept unsaid. That thing had already caused enough problems. No one should be burdened with it.”

“Maybe so.” She signed.

“Thank you Shuri. For everything.” You half heartedly smiled but before you could leave her arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. You sucked in a breath and tapped her on the back in reciprocation. Physically affection was never something you were good at showing, try as you may. 

When you finally pulled away she sent you a soft smile, and wished you good luck on the mission before you headed out the door. 

……………………..

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Steve muttered, when you finally got to the jet when the rest of the team was loading up.

“It is, isn't it?” You spoke sweetly, throwing your duffle onto the jet. You still weren't really sure where you stood with Steve. Of course you knew of the famous Captain America, even if you didn't remember a few weeks ago. But never did you imagine he would be such a class act dick. Or maybe he was just that way with you? The idea made you smirk, knowing you were the only one to really piss off the Captain was honestly the highest form of flattery. 

You boarded the jet and noticed the rest if the team already suited up. The tactical gear Shuri had made you was tight, and Natasha was living proof of that. I mean, it wasn't fair she had the body of a trained ballerina and New York supermodel. The woman was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen while your gear clung to you in all the least flattering ways. 

You quickly shook off the self doubt. It didn't matter how you looked, you were here to kick some ass. 

Well, not exactly. 

That morning Steve had announced that while the rest of the team ‘kicked ass’ you and the Soviet spy would sneak into their mainframe and collect the data of whatever new evil scheme Hydra was working on. 

Though you weren't thrilled to be stuck on recon duty, it was better than nothing. Besides, you were just a little rusty. Though Nat and Sam kept you busy and Wanda had taught you all her tricks, you weren't sure that if it came down to it you'd be able to pull the trigger. 

Better safe than sorry. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky spoke under his breath, his voice deep and rough. You shivered at the sound. You hadn't realised until this moment that he was seated directly behind you. 

“Are you?” You asked. You tried to add some bite to your words, but they left your lips softly. The tone seemed to surprise Bucky as much as it did you as he half expected to to tear his head off again.

“Sometimes. But, not now.”

“Oh yeah?” Words betraying you once again. 

Ignore him. 

Stop talking to him. 

Stop. Talking. 

Bucky's tongue slipped from between his lips, tugging on his bottom one slowly and effectively knocking you back from your annoying thought and to the glorious man sitting behind you. 

“Yeah. Got this new girl on our side. She’s a totally badass. I know she’ll watch my six.” He shrugged causing a small smile to pull at the corner of your mouth. 

“How do you know she won't just leave you for dead?” She asked, playing along. Part of you, however, was just a little curious. Part of you wanted to ask yourself the same question. In a second, would you protect the man who murdered Tommy? Honestly you weren't really sure. 

“Just a feeling.” He spoke so casually. So sure, you wanted to believe him. It would be easy enough to feed him to Hydra, but you and him both knew you wouldn't have the stomach for it. 

“Huh. You sound pretty confident in that.” You sneered sarcastically.

He just gave you a small shrug, leaning back into his seat and pulling his bluetooth earbuds out of his back pocket. He offered one to you casually. Before you could protest your arm shot out and took it, placing it in your right ear. 

“I like to listen to music before a mission. It calms me.” He suggested, opening his phone, scrolling through his songs before the intro to Highway to Hell began playing. 

A grin spread across your face “I love this song!” You beamed. 

“I know. I remember you telling me something about spending an entire year listening to AC/DC cause’ your dad loved their music. I downloaded a few of their albums after that. Not exactly what I’m used to, but definitely good ass kicking music.” He nodded. 

That stopped you dead in your tracks. You couldn't help the smile that faded quickly from your lips at his words. You were, to say the least, shocked. You must have mentioned your love for the band at some point, but honestly couldn't for the life of you remember when.  

But he did. And he listened to it because you liked them. 

“Huh.” You repeated, turning back around and trying to suppress the butterflies that began erupting out of your stomach. You could hear Bucky behind you drumming his hands on his thighs along to the song. You couldn't help but giggle at how offbeat he was.

“Take off in five minutes. Everyone ready?” Nat spoke through your coms. Everyone gave a thumb up as the jets engine whirled on, vibrating through the aircraft.

You listened carefully as your song faded away and the next one took its place. 

Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways?

You could physically feel Bucky’s mood shift behind you. The Super Soldier serum granting you access to his quickened heart beat and the lyrics mirrored the every present emotions you had been feeling this week.

Sad to see you go. Was sorta’ hopin’ that you’d stay. 

You let your mind wander as you listened to Bucky hum along quietly to the song, low and soft. The sound sending chills down your spine as the memory of your dreams from the past few nights replayed over in your mind. 

Baby, we both know. That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day.

Bucky’s lips trailed along your swollen throat, the feeling of pleasure over bruises he had left behind caused you to moan in ecstasy. The way he kissed you, not like before. This time full of lust and something dark. His hands dipped under your shirt, the feeling of hot and cold sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled back in your head. You wanted nothing more than for him to throw you against a wall, any wall and tear you limb from limb.

“I like this song too.” Bucky’s breath fanned across the back of your ear, rocketing you back to the Jet that was beginning to take off. You looked around the small space, praying that Bucky was the only one to notice your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 

Any reminisce of the idea that you had to stay away from Bucky shattered into a million pieces. The hate, still ever present, but you knew damn well that would be the best part. It only fueled your desire. He was going to be the death of you.

Or even better, you'd be the death of him...

.....................................................................................................................

A/N: Gah! Thank you for reading! And thank you to @cutie1365​ for being the best hype woman/ editor around lol. Leave a like or reblog if you wanna show some love. I hope yall’ are having a great week! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[scandeniall]

leaving the fold

pairing: atsumu x reader

summary/warnings: Youre leaving the Jackals. That means your life, position, and soulmate./ mentions of death, (bsd verse so implied mafia), profanity

wc: 2.1K

notes: this is a bungo stray dogs type universe and yall are the port mafia in this case because i miss them :-). also this is more dialogue heavy than i usually do ???

“What the fuck am I hearing about ya leaving,” You mentally roll your eyes at the now likely dented wall behind your door that had been pushed open. You don't even look up from your laptop’s screen as you greet in amusement.

“Well hello to you Atsumu. You're back from your mission already? How’d it go, I’m sure it was like child’s play to you” The fist coming down on your desk does little to shock you, nor are you surprised when the top of your laptop comes crashing down.

“Cut the shit. You're trying to leave the agency-”

“Will you keep your voice down,” you hiss out standing from your desk to shut your office’s door. You ignore his comments about not giving a damn about his volume, despite him lowering it anyways. Turning back to face him, you eye him menacingly. “How did you find out.”

“So it's true huh.” His eyes glare at you just as deadly. “What were ya gonna do, just disappear one night. Ya know more than anyone here that leaving is a death sentence” His voice grows angriet the longer he speaks. “Besides, where ya gonna go. There's nowhere in this city that the Jackals don’t have eyes. We run the underground.” By the time he had finished the two of you stood face to face. “You’re an executive for fuck’s sake (Y/N) you can’t- ”

“Shugo was set up.” Silence settled among the two of you. Both of you thought about your fallen friend. You noticed Atsumu’s eyes undergo a range of emotions: confusion, comprehension. Shock, disbelief, and back to anger as he silently accused you of lying. “Foster purposely sent him on that mission, knowing he’d die.” You stand tall as the words leave your mouth, managing to calm your raging emotions. The only indication of any sort of emotional weakness came from the balled fists resting at your sides. “Why the hell would-”

“Shugo was planning on leaving the org. I don’t know how, but Foster caught word, and-” the words trailed off as you walked past Atsumu to sit on the corner of your desk. “He had a pregnant girlfriend. Said he couldn’t keep putting her or their unborn child at risk with this life. He proposed about a year ago.” You begin to fiddle with your fingers, ignoring the shock written all over the blonde’s face. “They’d been dating maybe two or three, I’m not sure. When they got engaged he told me he was gonna leave. That's why he started taking lower paid and ranked missions. Then, she got pregnant and that was the last straw for him.” The crack in your voice ultimately caused your friend to react.

“If he had him killed, why are you trying to do the same thing.” This time the words came out in hardly a whisper as you felt his body settle next to yours on the desk. The feel of one of his hands encasing yours brings you back to the reality you’d talked yourself into. “I can take care of myself and you know that. Youngest to become a Jackal’s executive ever, remember,” you lightly bump his shoulder as you tease. “Not to mention, I’m the best at hand-to-hand combat here.” At that Atsumu scoffs, “Yeah, because your ability is better for being on the defensive.”

“I can still kick your ass,” you shrug as the conversation dies down.

“You think, Foster is letting you out without raising hell.” For a second his hand tightens on top of yours so quickly that you barely notice. “Him bringing you into this world was like hitting a goldmine.”

“Which is why he wouldn’t kill me right away-”

“You don’t know that,” his voice begins to grow again. “Listen. I know why ya wanna leave, but it's a shitty idea. Ya don’t have anywhere to go, can’t get a normal job or anything. Ya know I loved Shugo too, but people here die all the time” You snatch your hands away at his words, pushing at his arm as it reaches out for you again.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now,” you laugh out humorlessly. Your mind flashes back to the dozens of conversations the two of you had over the years as you practically grew up together. “We didn't choose this world, it chose us.” The phrase he’d always tell you along with the kid who used to say it long forgotten. 

“Well one of us needs to be realistic. It's part of the life we all chose including him.” You shake your head at disbelief following his words.

“Get the fuck out Atsumu,” is the only thing you settle on. Your voice is low and dangerous, but he doesn’t move. “Now,” this time you were the one raising your voice. The thing you’d told him not to do as he walked in.

“We’re on the same level (Y/N). I’m not one of your damn subordinates,” the fellow executive bites back. He easily avoids the book you opt for throwing at him.

“Difference is, we’re in my office.” This time he narrowly misses the punch you’d thrown his way.

However in the attempt, he neglects the fact you managed to get behind him, until you had his arms pinned against his back. “I said get the fuck out.” You scoff as you let him go, now pointing at your door. The air is heavy, as the two of you seethe in anger. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief as he nears the exit.

“Tell me one thing,” you raise your eyebrows signaling him to continue. “Where do ya plan on going.” The question was void of any real concern. In an attempt to further upset you it was asked in malice. Mocking you. Telling you that outside of the Jackals you had no one nor anywhere to go. And it pissed you off.

“Maybe the Adlers,” the words came out solely to spite him. The mention of your counterpart organization angered him to where his own ability activated. So you stood. Stood in anger as the books on your bookshelf flew to the ground and papers fluttered to the ground. “When you realize the way Foster is leading this organization will be our demise don’t come crying to me,” you yell over the sound of your office being trashed. 

“Fuck you”

“Fuck you,” the door slammed shut behind you and you were left with an aching heart and trashed office.

The argument with Atsumu had been over a month ago. And since then, the two of you didn’t interact unless otherwise necessary. Your missions together were strictly business, both of your subordinates easily catching onto the tension. Your comments at one another just too harsh to be considered the usual joking. Whenever you had to work together, you’d opt for not riding together to sights. 

The only time things seemed relatively normal were during executive meetings. You would take your rightful place as Foster’s right hand, engaging and giving updates and directives. You interacted with Atsumu as usual, even throwing in careful jokes and he’d reciprocated. He knew you still had every intention of leaving. You were stubborn. When you set your mind to something you followed through. It was one of the things he loved about you. Despite his hurt at that he didn’t want you to end up dead all because he couldn’t act in a mere meeting. 

You’d finished the last letter, the one actually designated for Atsumu. It was nearing 3am and you had to be gone soon. You looked over your now former office for the last time and sighed. Eying the letters in your hands your mind thought back to the people you were leaving behind. The closest thing you could call friends in this hellhole. Directly under you in ranks were the two you entrusted as the commanders of your infiltration unit; Bokuto and Sakusa. You’d miss the way Bokuto would laugh after a completed mission somehow making the carnage left behind seem a little less gut wrenching. You’d even miss the quips at your hygiene when you got unnecessarily messy during a fight. 

Then you had the guys under Atsumu’s command. His trusted commanders; Osamu and Suna, and the newest member of the organization. Hinata, a firecracker who was quickly rising in ranks.

The last letter belonged to your fellow executive. The one you shared nearly a decade’s worth of memories with. Your right hand on missions, the two of you clicking immediately and being able to act scarily in sync. the one who you’d have hundreds of sparring matches with and he’d pout whenever you let him win. The person who’d you stay getting into trouble about the base as kids, annoying everyone in your sight with pranks. The one you swore was your soulmate, despite the fact that the two of you could never be. Not with the lives you lived at least.

The buzz of the new burner phone you’d gotten shook you out of the thoughts. The text about who you were set to meet reminded of you of the time. Adjusting the straps of your backpack, you shut the light out of your office for the last time. You’d manage to drop the letters off, slipping them in the lockers of their respective occupants before sneaking off. You’d made it outside, before a voice sounded behind you. “Ya didn’t think I’d let you go by yourself now.”

Turning around you were met with Atsumu, who looked unusually happy given the situation. “Atsumu, I’m leaving and you can’t stop-” hands reached around your waist pulling you into him and effectively cutting you off.

“Of course not. Listen. You’re leaving but you're not going alone alright.” The way his index finger pressing against your lips causes your breath to catch. “It can’t be me. Not yet anyway. Listen, you were right about Foster. He’s trying to lead us into an all about war with ability users.”

That revelation causes your eyes to widen. You almost forget about the fact that Atsumu’s body was pressed against yours and that your lips were so close to one another. He only nods at your shock, looking around cautiously before continuing. “Bokuto and Sakusa are going with you. You need someone with some offensive ability, and you need Sakusa to keep you on track.”

“Are you serious,” you whisper. Your friends were coming with you? He only nods offering a smile that disappears just as quickly as it occurs.

“I assume you already had a plan for yourself. Got room for two more?” You quickly confirm, making a mental note to text your awaiting party. You also confirm after he asks you about a burner phone. “Alright good. Sakusa has my burner and some information about where we can meet up later.”

Your hands go towards his chest gently pushing him away. “I have so many questions right now-”

“Babe, you have to go. Morning guards will be here soon. We’re going to bring Foster down. For now Me, Samu, Suna and Hinata are staying here. Acting as normal. But we’re your inside eyes ok and when the time is right we’re here with you.” Your mind hardly registers the new nickname. He was with you. He believed in you and thought you were doing the right thing. The only thing you could do was wrap your arms around him in a hug. You only nod as he whispers for you to please be safe. 

“Fuck! Tsumu, I wrote you all-”

“Already got Samu on it. I knew you couldn’t just leave. By now he should have already picked the locks to your guy’s lockers. Now you have to go. Bo and Omi are waiting about 2 blocks down at the end of the street.” You find yourself nodding once again, this time caught off guard when his lips come down to meet yours in a quick kiss. You’re the one to pull away, this not being the time nor place. “Get the info from Omi- and we’ll figure out a meeting for next month.”

His words cause you to step away from him, taking a deep breath. “Be safe Y/N”

“Aren’t I always,” you shoot him a smirk before nodding. He watches as you depart, lost in how he was now going to have to act in order to uphold his promise to you. “You couldn't even say I love you? How lame,” the voice causes Atsumu to jump as he scowls

“Shut up Suna! You’ve been spending too much time with Samu”

a/n: not me making meian oda and coach foster mori LMFAO. Yall also peep how i made bokuto and sakusa both hirotsu. Ok so yeah idk if im making a part 2 so in the case that i dont (bc this plot wasn;t even supposed to get a happy ending)

atsumu’s ability is basically gravity control so basically chuya (yeah he manipulated it to trash ur office), you ability is smoke manipulation aka you can form it, its poisoneous but not deadly and can only really stun momentarily or be used as a way to impair vision. Atsumu got them dazai brains, and you got them chuya hands. But yeah you were the youngest exec like dazai due to a back story that u wont know unless i decide to make another part, and yall basically double black

[joelthedinosaur]

Ridin' High | Part Five

Joel Miller x OC fic

Part Four here

Warnings: language

Word count: ~1,000

Joel stood in the middle of the room with his jaw open in disbelief, his hands ever so slightly trembling.

Ellie had come by his home unannounced, driven by what he could only assume was anger at having to find out about his relationship with Cat from a second-hand source.

Earlier in the week, rumors had spread like wildfire as gossip from a rowdy group of young boys eventually made its way through the community.

His surrogate daughter stood in the middle of his living room with a mixture of anger and disbelief on her face. Joel stood piteously in pajama pants and an old t-shirt.

"Are you fucking her, Joel?"

Cat lay sleeping upstairs in his bed. Joel prayed that she didn't wake up and hear any of this encounter.

"Ellie...". Joel ran his hand across his face and sighed.

"Answer the question". Ellie was seething with anger and a look of hurt flashed through her eyes.

"I...yeah, alright?" He threw his hands up in the air. "So what if I am, Ellie?" Joel furrowed his brow and flared back at her. "What's it matter to you, anyhow?".

"She's half your fucking age, Joel." Ellie's disbelief at his words was written all over her face. "What are you doing, using her? Lying to her, too?"

Joel heard shuffling upstairs and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. From what he had seen in the community, Cat and Ellie weren't exactly friends. They weren't enemies either, but Ellie particularly open to the idea of being "buddies" with this newcomer. In fact, Ellie didn't seem to be buddies with anyone besides Jessie and Dina.

The pair were much alike in many ways, and Cat had never done anything inherently wrong that he knew of. Joel assumed that Ellie was just uncomfortable with the idea of him sleeping with someone in her age group.

"How long?!" Ellie spat the question at him and he winced.

His pause only seemed to make things worse, and he could hear Cat coming downstairs. He gulped. "A while...". Ellie's stare was icy as she glared back at him.

"Okay, yeah, she's younger. She's still older than you. She's an adult, and-"

"Stop trying to justify th-"

--

"You can't just come in here and be pissed about his sex life when you continue to walk in and out of his life all the time." Cat stood behind Joel in a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, pointing a finger accusingly as Ellie. She had heard the commotion downstairs and decided it was unfair to let Ellie continue berating Joel.

"It's not like I'm the only one who notices, Ellie. You're fucking killing him. He loves you, and with the way you've been acting towards him lately...it's bullshit. He doesn't deserve it".

"Listen, princess, you don't know shit about fuck." Ellie was in a rage at this point. "He's probably just lying to you, too!"

--

Joel winced again. Ellie's words were twisting in his gut like a knife. Emotion was swirling like a whirlpool inside of him and he felt like he might be sick.

He adored Ellie. He saved her life. She had no idea the sacrifices he had made for her. Joel simply could not afford to lose his daughter again. To lose Ellie at all would throw him right back down into the hole he crawled out of after losing his real daughter. He knew how upset Ellie was, but he had to play this carefully. One wrong word and he could lose the both of them....

"Ellie, goddamnit." Joel rubbed his temples with his fingers and ground his teeth. "Both of you stop. This ain't gonna fix anythin'".

Ellie snorted and waved a hand in dismissal. "Whatever, man. I can't fucking believe you". She stomped out of the house just as quickly as she came, slamming the door behind her.

Joel slumped down onto the couch, holding his face in his hands. That was one of the first times Ellie had spoken to him in recent months. She was becoming more and more distant all the time. Her anger at Joel for events in their past was driving her to become more and more bitter as time marched on.

Cat stepped closer and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Joel sucked in a breath and shook her away. There were so many questions he would have to answer, explanations to come up with thanks to Ellie's rage.

What the hell was Joel gonna do now?

[inspired-by-the-music]

Unrequited: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: angst, fluffy ending

Word Count: 1492

requests are encouraged! please read my guidelines before submitting your request!

You never imagined that Baekhyun would break your heart. 

He had been your best friend almost as long as you could remember. He started following you everywhere sometime after he stuck that piece of bubble gum in your hair, but not before he immediately apologized when you burst into tears. And although nothing serious became of that kiss you shared when he took you home from prom years ago, you understood that your love for him was mutual although not yet fully recognized. 

Or maybe you imagined that he loved you. Now that you passed by his house for the first time since the rejection, you realized that the universe where Baekhyun secretly loved you but feared to ruin your friendship didn't make much sense. 

It was more likely that he had always tiptoed around your obvious crush for fear of hurting you. And when you interrupted that round of Mario Kart to tell him how you felt-- how you were in love with him-- he was forced to confront the issue once and for all. He was forced to confess that he couldn't see himself with you. 

"Y/N!" A voice much like Baekhyun's called behind you. Even before turning around, you recognized it as his younger brother's voice. Just now in his final years of high school, he ran to greet you with a smile. "You're home? Baek came back from college just this morning. If you wanna come over for dinner--"

"Oh, no," you shook your head instantly. To conceal your visible discomfort, you feigned a smile and clutched your backpack straps tightly. "Ah, sorry, I can't. I might be back from university for the weekend, but the work never stops, ya know?"

Your stiff laughter caused him to eye you cautiously. Although unconvinced by your story, he nodded slowly. "Right." He trailed off before asking, "Um, Y/N, did you and Baekhyun have a fight or something? It's just-- he acted all weird when I asked about you this morning, and now you're acting all weird when I mention him."

It was against your better judgment to tell him about what happened, so you explained shortly, "Uh, yeah, something did happen, but it was my fault. So maybe don't mention me for a while, alright?"

"Alright," he smiled sadly. Clapping your shoulder comfortingly, he said, "Well, take care, Y/N. I hope things work out soon."

. . . 

You had been home, tutoring your younger sister, for an hour when you heart frantic footsteps race toward your room. Before Baekhyun appeared, you anticipated that it would be him, so you rushed your sister across the hall to her bedroom. 

"Chin up, Y/N," she cheered in a whisper. "I'm sure he's here to confess to you."

Just moments before Baekhyun leaned against the doorframe, panting, you collapsed at your desk and slammed an open textbook onto your desk. 

"What did you say to my brother?" Baekhyun demanded. Just from his tone, you could picture his furrowed brow. 

You weren't angry when Baekhyun rejected you last week. In fact, you had been calm enough to finish playing Mario Kart before making some excuse about needing to study for a fictional biology exam. But something about how he stood in your house, hand on his hips and scowling, that pissed you off. 

So, briefly glancing away from your book to scan his aggressive body language, you responded with a question of your own. "Who let you in?"

"Your mom did," Baekhyun answered as if it were the punchline to a joke. 

You wanted to say that you couldn't believe your mother let him in after you called her from your dorm to cry about how he wounded your feelings, but you knew she loved Baekhyun as if he were her own son. She probably thought, like your sister, that Baekhyun was there to apologize or to invite you on a date. 

However, judging by his glare, Baekhyun didn't intend to do either. 

"I barely talked to your brother," you answered, rolling your eyes. "He said hi, he asked me to come over, and I said no."

"Why?" Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest. 

 "Because," you gestured to your open textbook, "I have work to do."

Perhaps in an attempt to rectify the hostile atmosphere he created, Baekhyun teased, "Since when has work come before hanging out with me?" When you didn't laugh-- or even smile-- he thought aloud, "Well, I guess since last week. Didn't you weasel out of our Mario Kart tournament to study for some test last week?"

"Yes." 

Your one-worded answer sent Baekhyun into a rage. Never before had he entered your bedroom without expressed permission, but suddenly he barged toward your desk, slammed your book closed, and barked, "Y/N, what's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" You snatched your book out of his hands before wheeling your chair away from his intense gaze. "You barged into my house, pouting and demanding to know what I said to your brother, and you want to know what's wrong with me?" 

"Yeah!" Baekhyun matched your volume and pressed his palms flat against your desk. "You're acting weird! You haven't' looked me in the eyes since I got here!"

At his challenge, your stomach flipped nauseatingly. Still, you couldn't meet his eyes, so you opened the textbook in your lap and focused blankly on the pictures as you argued, "Because I'm working!"

"Whatever." Baekhyun pounded a hand into the desk, but he looked at you apologetically-- eyes widened-- when you flinched and finally looked into his eyes. "I only came over here because my brother said you told him we're fighting, and I didn't know that we're fighting. When did that start, Y/N?"

You corrected, tossing your book onto your bed, "I didn't say that we're fighting. He said that we were acting weird, and I said it was probably because of what I said during Mario Kart."

Baekhyun seethed, "You told him you like me?"

It was the first time Baekhyun acknowledged your feelings since that day; he did so harshly that you gasped. Maybe to apologize, Baekhyun stepped toward you, but you refused to let him speak. 

"Of course I didn't tell him. It's none of his business. And why the hell would I want to brag about unrequited love?" You spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at him. "Besides, why can't I tell anyone I want? They're my feelings!"

"Because," Baekhyun breathed deeply, "he likes you."

"That's ridiculous."

Baekhyun rolled his eyes as he disagreed. "No, it's not. You're practically perfect, and even he knows it."

"No," you shook your head, "I mean it's ridiculous for him to think I could be with him. He just turned sixteen, Baek, and I'm in college."

"That's not the point. Don't you think he'd be crushed if I started dating you?"

With that question, Baekhyun broke down before your eyes. He leaned against your desk and looked away from you as he rubbed at his temples. 

"I don't know," you mumbled guiltily as you thought of being the cause of his brother's broken heart. Staring down at your lap, you said, "I guess that means it's a good thing you don't want to date me."

At that reflection, you must have broken down before Baekhyun's eyes. He dropped to his knees before you and reached up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. "Hey, I never said that I don't want to be with you. I said it didn't feel right to be with you."

As you asked "How else am I supposed to take that?" a few embarrassed tears slid down your cheeks. 

"Ah, don't cry," Baekhyun ordered as he brushed the tears away. "I only said that because I feel bad that my brother likes you, not because I doubt how I feel about you. I've been waiting for him to move on to somebody else, but his other crushes are insanely short-lived."

 Blushing, you fixated on one detail of Baekhyun's explanation. "So you like me too?"

"Duh, dummy," Baekhyun laughed and playfully flicked your forehead. "Why else do you think I kissed you at prom?"

 You hummed, pretending to think deeply, before guessing, "Because I looked irresistibly gorgeous that night?"

"No, because--oh, wait, that's exactly why." And once you stopped laughing, Baekhyun said, "Look, Y/N, I'm working on finding my brother a girlfriend. You know, someone his age. And then we can be together."

Before you could agree and offer to help, your sister tiptoed into the doorway and drummed her knuckles against the open door. "Actually-- my best friend has a crush on him if you want to set them up." 

And while Baekhyun did cartwheels around the room and set to work on arranging his brother's date, you narrowed your eyes at your sister. 

"You get away with eavesdropping just this once," you warned, and she smiled. 

[dekusbrokenarms]

BNHA Drabble: Rage

Bakugou was seething. His heartbeat was thrumming in his ears loud enough to block out the sound of sirens in the background and his chest was pounding. And all he could do was watch.

Watch as Endeavor talked to the interviewer who laughed and touched his arm so delicately and continued to ask him about the massacre that had been prevented there today no thanks to him. 

Watch as fucking Deku talked calmly to a victim who was getting checked over by a medic, smiling despite his own broken wrist that wasn’t being seen to like a fucking idiot all to make some fucking nobody feel better? They looked fucking fine. Why wasn’t he seeing a paramedic? 

Watch as Todoroki stood beside him, just out of sight of the cameras, brushing off the soot from his uniform like he wasn’t the least bit bothered by the fact none of this was right! They were the ones who took down the villains. They were the ones who were hurt. They were the ones who should be getting accolades! And this bastard was acting like a kid waiting to be picked up and taken home.

“How are you not fucking pissed? Do you not see what’s going on here?” Bakugou finally snapped, his voice low but shaking with his anger. His hands sparked as he gave into that feeling and he turned his sharp stare at Endeavor. “He’s taking all the fucking credit. He wasn’t even here. What kind of bullshit is this? He hasn’t even fucking asked about us. We’re fucking students.” 

There was a moment of silence after this rant. Bakugou swore for a moment that Todoroki was ignoring him. He opened his mouth as he turned back to look at him, about to speak when Todoroki beat him to it.

“I am angry,” Todoroki said, voice even and face composed in what had to be a perfect mask if he was being genuine about his emotions. “But this is how this job is.” 

Bakugou opened his mouth again, the words “emotionless robot” at the tip of his tongue when Todoroki spoke again.

“I don’t know who told you that being a hero was all glitz and glamor, but they lied to you. It’s better to accept that now. The only people the cameras care about are whoever they’ve decided will pull in viewers,” Todoroki explained, now watching Endeavor instead of looking at Bakugou like one might think. “For our generation of heroes, it’s no longer enough to coast on a flashy offensive quirk like Endeavor or be a good hero like All Might. You have to be a good story too.” 

When Bakugou looked back in that direction, Endeavor was no longer being interviewed. The cameras were moving across the field, but not towards them. Towards Deku. The interviewer introduced herself and Deku greeted her, all blushing and smiling like his bones weren’t broken and he wasn’t covered in soot, burns, and lacerations. How did he smile like that?

You have to be a good story. The words rang louder in Bakugou’s ears than the tinnitus or the sirens in the background. 

You have to be a good story. Like a plain, quirkless loser who came into a strong quirk.

You have to be a good story. Like a hero who smiles through his pain and while other heroes rest, he continues to comfort victims. 

You have to be a good story. Like a young hero whose first televised interview is talking about how glad he is everyone is okay and giving credit he didn’t have to share with his fellow classmates. 

What was his story? He was smart, talented, had a strong quirk, came from well off family, and had a history of being abrasive and self-serving. How could anyone sell a story like that? Who would want to sell a story like that?

“Fucking Deku,” he mumbled, scoffing and shaking his head, watching how the interviewer ate up the sweet, bashful kid routine. 

But he didn’t get a chance to dwell on that. 

Endeavor was here now.

It was time to get back to work.

[pinkettepoet]

In Which She’s Caught In A Crossfire

Summary: Heated tension between you and Clint Barton surprisingly ends in unexpected confessions.

Warnings: Clint Barton x Fem!Reader, Violence, Decent Swearing (?), FLUFF.

Note: The last imagine absolutely exploded! I’m so happy that so many of you enjoyed it. For this one, all I have to say is that Hawkeye is one sexy man.

You were seething with anger.

And frankly, everyone in the Quinjet could see the heated tension between you and Clint. To be fair, you weren’t exactly subtle with the piercing glares you sent him or the murderous threats you muttered every time you passed by the famous Hawkeye.

Just the thought of Clint Barton brought fire to your veins. And for reasons that you couldn’t explain, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It was as if you didn’t know whether to hug him to death or to push him off a bridge.

You hated his stupid, large muscles. You hated the graceful baritone in his voice. You hated the way he acted so differently around you. Most of all, you hated his smirk that reeked of pride. But honestly, everything related to Clint Barton just set you off.

“So, uhm,” Steve coughed, poorly attempting to slice through the thick atmosphere. “Today was a successful mission—”

“I wouldn’t know.” You were quick to intervene, not missing a beat to throw another dark glare Clint who was seated across from you. “Someone kept me from all the action.”

You didn’t exactly have the tendency to be a violent woman. However, when a person stood in the way of you and your mission, there wasn’t much depth to it except that you felt cheated. Just as Clint did to you.

For today’s job, you were paired with Clint to keep an eye out for any Hydra agents who tried to run away. Him being on the lookout on the trees, and you dealing with them face to face.

Unfortunately, before you could even land a punch on anyone of them, a certain someone pierced an arrow right through their heart. He did that to every single one of them. Even when there was only literally one person.

When you confronted Clint about it on the way to the jet, he merely shrugged and said, “I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

It was a load of crap, honestly.

Just recalling the events today got your veins surging with irritation and fury. Clint had a habit of getting under your skin and today was no exception.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Natasha coughed beside you. It was only then you realized that your gaze was on Clint himself, or rather his lips.

“Daydreaming about me, sweetheart?” He smirked. At this point, you were seconds away from punching his perfectly structured face.

Perfect? Where the hell did that come from?

Must have been the heat getting to your head.

“Only about how much I want to bite your head off, sweetie.” You plastered the most bittersweet smile on your face, hoping to piss him off instead the man smiled widely.

“May I ask why Sir Barton and the Lady Y/N are in a quarrel? Is this some sort of mating ritual between mortals?” Thor said, his booming voice filling up the room.

Gone was the discomposed tension in the air, and replaced it was a series of awkward coughing. However, you and Clint never ceased from your stare down. In the background, you could hear the God of Mischief blasting with laughter, clearly the only one who didn’t give a damn.

“Thor, honey, I would never associate myself with an idiot like Clint.” And as melodic as you tried to make your voice sound, you knew that the venom in your words would reach Clint.

A part of you exploded with pleasure when you saw Clint stand up, eyes burning with rage. Finally, you got to see the layer underneath his sarcasm. You finally ticked the bomb within him.

“How am I the idiot for trying to protect you?” He asked. For some reason his harsh tone and the cold stare sent irregular shivers to your spine.

You brushed the fact away and stood up. You tried to make yourself seem taller but failed miserably as you could only seem to come in contact with his chin. Despite that, you put in every fiber of your being to intimidate him.

“If you didn’t notice, Clint, I’m an Avenger. And for a good bloody reason, too.” Your tone was raising higher, fueling with rage by the millisecond.

“Well, I’m sorry if I worry about you!” He took a few steps closer to you. His presence overwhelming you to the bone. It seemed as if you drowned out everyone else.

That sentence earned a scoff from you. It was a lie and you both knew it. The man didn’t have the ability to care for you, he just wanted to see you crash and burn.

“You worry about Nat but I don’t see you coddling her during missions, do I?” You spat out as loud as he did. It was becoming a crossfire and you were determined to make it out alive.

“That’s because she’s different, Y/N!” Clint fired back with just as much rage and insult.

“How is she different, Clint?” You practically screamed. “We both have eyes, nose, ears, and whatever. And as far as I’m concerned, we both have breasts! So tell me, how are we dif—”

“Because I love you, you dumb girl!”

“So I’m the dumb one now? Wow, you really are— wait what?” You paused, his words finally registering into your brain. And damn if that didn’t stop your heart for a bit.

“I love you, Y/N.” His tone was softer now, gentler. There was no more malice and you could practically feel the adoration seeping through.

Love?

Your mind became dizzy as you searched for anything that could have led to this. Instead, there were only images of you salivating of the man himself. How could you be so stupid?

“I have loved you ever since you came into the compound, wearing that stupid hat of yours—”

“My hat isn’t stupid. You are.” You whispered, eyes still locked on to his. You prayed hard that he didn’t hear the nervousness in your voice.

You still didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. How could a simple sentence turn your insides putty?

“Of course, it is.” He laughed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “But it seemed like the most beautiful thing on earth when you wore it.”

“I love the way you don’t back down from a fight, the fire in your eyes is just something else. I love the way that you fight everyone for your food. I love the dimples when you smile, right there below your eye. I love you, Y/N.”

“And I’ll be spending the rest of my life making sure you know that.” Clint‘s arms came around you, pulling you for a hug. Then his hands slowly came down to your shoulders, tracing the outline of your body until he settled them onto your waist.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, hoping to hide the smile. You didn’t even notice any of that. Unfortunately, you let your emotions get to the best of you as a small laugh escaped past your lips.

Surprisingly, you were rendered speechless and as you were thinking of something coherent to say, Tony interrupted your thoughts and suddenly stood up. If it weren’t for him, you’d have forgot that there were other people. You shyly moved away from Clint but he pulled you back to his body.

“Alright, people, pay up.” Tony laid his palm flat out for everyone to see. Slowly, Pietro, Steve, Bruce, Peter, and Loki put a handful of dollar bills onto his hand.

“What’s this?” You cleared your throat, trying to not let the stares faze you. But your head was so high up in the clouds that you didn’t care.

“They,” Tony said smugly, pointing to those who had just paid him. “Bet that you would kill Clint before he could confess his feelings for you.”

“And I,” Natasha grinned, grabbing all the money showcased for her. “Bet that Clint would confess his love for Y/N in the sappiest way sometime this month.”

“Why are you all against me?” Clint chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “Also, this month is oddly specific.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda shuddered, accepting the money from the others. “I saw your thoughts about Y/N and I was pretty sure you were going to explode by the end of the month.”

Soon laughter and teasing exceeded the jet’s space. You didn’t focus on that, instead you gave your full attention to Clint’s lips which were hovering around your ear. Not a moment later, you heard the very voice that sent goosebumps all over your body.

“You do know that this means I’m going to be even more protective of you now? I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life scaring away everyone I hate who comes near you.” He whispered.

“Then I’m going to spend the rest of my life kicking your ass.” You said.

Then Clint smiled, “You do know that you just said we’re going to spend our lifetime together?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

(marvel tag list: @not-jk-rowling, @hydraliciousbarnes, @thewhinersoldier)

[juju-on-that-yeet]

The Cost of Living

I couldn’t help it; I wrote a fic about Voodoo. I just really wanted to insert her into the egos’ story, and write about how she is in general.

My idea is that she hardly ever refuses a client when they have the proper payment and bond item for her, but that she has done it a few times. This fic is about one of those times ;)

@spookyscarydarky I’m tagging you because you seemed to like Voodoo’s character when I posted about her yesterday :D Speaking of, here’s that post for those who want to see what she looks like (though I do describe it a bit in the fic)

I also put it on AO3 because why not

If you like it, let me know! I might write more with Voodoo in the future :3

Dark can’t believe he’s doing this, but he supposes he has no choice if he wants to enact his plans easily.

He doesn’t enter the room (an office) right away, rather, he listens to the conversation happening inside. Both voices are female; one is some unknown human, the other more familiar.

“I found that asshole in bed with another woman, and I want you to kill him.”

“Sure, makes enough sense.” Dark can practically hear the figment smirking and nodding understandingly. “So, what are you giving me to use as a bond?”

“Here.” The sound of something being handed over. “It’s one of his ties.”

“I figured,” the figment says coolly, “And what are you paying with?”

A clatter of something tiny and metallic being set down.

“My wedding ring.” The human’s voice is strained, now.

There’s a pause as the item is appraised, Dark can tell without hearing or saying a thing. He’s seen the figment do it before, knows how she conducts business. He knows she’ll be doing the same to him in a minute. He grits his teeth to think it.

Then laughter breaks the air, cackling and cruel.

“What the hell is so funny??” asks the human, indignant.

“You know how this works, don’t you?” the figment guffaws in response, “Don’t answer that; of course you do, that’s why you’re here. I need your most valuable possession to kill someone for you, what makes you think this is good enough?”

“Well, I mean,” the human sputters, “It’s my wedding ring.”

“Yeah, and?” the figment counters, “He cheated on you and you’re pissed enough to want to kill him, clearly it can’t mean that much to you anymore. It might be valuable to a pawn shop, but to you, it might as well have come from a cereal box, and I don’t work for pennies.” Her tone becomes bored. “Come back with something you care about or don’t come back at all, but right now, we’re done here.”

“You—!” Dark can practically hear the human’s face reddening with anger. “For your information, I’m not coming back!” She begins to stomp away, feet thumping the ground.

“Mmmmm, I doubt that,” the figment says, but the human keeps going. She’s so enraged that she doesn’t even see Dark as she brushes past him.

Dark, for his part, takes in a breath. He hates to ask anyone for help, least of all her. But it’ll make things easier in the long run, so he straightens his back and walks into the office.

The space is large, but it looks small thanks to the clutter. There’s items of all kinds littered about the floor and piled up to the ceiling, blocking most of the windows: Dog tags, photos, rings, art pieces, clothes, phones, laptops, and nearly everything else that could ever hold value to a person. At the center of the room is a desk, and Dark already knows that the drawers are full of weapons, guns and knives and lighters and screwdrivers and razors and more, instead of office supplies. Most importantly, sitting at the desk is the figment he’s been listening in on, the figment he’s here to see: Voodoo. She doesn’t notice Dark right away, so Dark has a moment to observe her. To see her brown hair, shot through with blonde and as unkempt as ever. Her green dress, stained brown in places from shed blood. The scars trailing over her hands, up her arms, and across her face and neck from previous jobs. Most striking of all, her cunning eyes: One a milky blue-gray, and one not an eye at all, but a shiny black button stitched into the socket. She finally looks up and sees Dark, and her one eye narrows.

“Ugh, what do you want?” Voodoo groans, “What did I do that deserves scolding this time?” She huffs out a petulant breath. “Make it quick, would you? I don’t want you scaring off clients.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Dark growls, already annoyed with her.

“Oh?” Voodoo asks, surprised but still wary, “What then?”

It’s Dark’s last chance to scrap the plan, but he knows he can’t.

“I…require your services,” Dark mutters.

He hates the way Voodoo’s face lights up.

“Woah, really? Are you kidding??” She asks. “Oh my god, you aren’t kidding,” she says in response to Dark’s sneer, “This is rich.” She leans forward in her chair. “The great and powerful Darki-fucking-plier needs my help to off somebody. What’s the matter? Don’t wanna get your hands dirty? Or, even better,” Voodoo continues, grinning like a maniac, “You’ve finally met your match? You’ve finally made an enemy you can’t obliterate with a snap of your fingers? Do tell!”

“It’s another figment,” Dark says, trying to keep his composure, “I could hurt them myself, but I’d prefer not to make it any more difficult than it has to be.”

“So the first one then,” Voodoo says casually, “I see, I see. So, you want me to kill this other figment, or what?”

“I want you to gauge out his eyes,” Dark says, voice like steel.

“Woof,” says Voodoo, still grinning, “Gnarly. Not looking forward to being blind for a few days, but eh.” She shrugs. “It can definitely be done, but I gotta tell ya, it’s a lot harder to perma-harm a figment than a human. Plus, I don’t like you.” She taps her fingers on the desk, pretending to think. “How about this: Give me your most prized possession and I’ll take this figment’s eyes for you.”

Dark had expected as much. Ordinarily someone’s most valued belonging is reserved for a murder, but Voodoo’s prices are not set in stone. He sighs.

“Fine,” he says, snapping his fingers. His piano appears beside him, black and shiny and beautiful. Dark’s had it for a long time, and has spent many a sleepless night playing it. “I trust it’s sufficient.”

“Well, it’s a bit hefty,” Voodoo admits, “But I can manage, as long as it’s as important to you as you want me to believe.”

She turns her head, casting her button eye onto the instrument. Dark isn’t unnerved by the button; that would require fear. But there’s certainly something that he can’t stand about it. Maybe it’s the way it glints sometimes, shining in a way that doesn’t match the light falling on it. It’s as if it’s not just a button with a bit of power imbued, but something stranger and more sinister altogether. For all Dark knows about the egos he keeps company with (and he does know quite a bit), he doesn’t think he knows everything about Voodoo’s eye. Dark knows fully well that one cannot control that which they don’t know. Hell, that’s the whole reason he’s here at all; to destroy something he cannot control.

He watches as Voodoo finally turns her head back to Dark, expression unreadable.

“Well?” Dark prompts.

Voodoo shakes her head.

“Nope, sorry,” she says, “Except I’m not.” Dark’s aura crackles in the air, but Voodoo ignores it as she goes on. “This piano is important to you, definitely, but it’s not the most important.”

“What exactly do you purpose,” Dark seethes, “Is more valuable to me than this?”

“Beats me.” Voodoo shrugs. “But there has to be something, the eye don’t lie.” She taps the edge of her button eye with a finger. “In fact,” she continues, “Something tells me you already know what it is, whether you want to admit it or not.” She leans forward again, a sardonic, hungry sort of smile on her face. “So what’s it gonna be, Dark? How badly do you want my help?”

She’s right, and Dark hates her for it. He considers her question. Is it worth it? He internally scolds himself. Of course it is, it has to be. He needs her help to secure power, put himself back in control. No material possession could be worth more than that.

He snaps his fingers again, and the piano disappears, replaced by a glass-tipped black cane appearing in his hands.

Voodoo blinks, clearly surprised to see such an innocuous item, but doesn’t comment, instead turning her button eye to it. Dark swears he sees the eye shimmer somehow in the low light of the room.

“That’s the one,” Voodoo says, satisfied, “Thanks for being honest, even if it took you a minute. Now,” she says, grinning, “Who’s the poor soul about to lose their eyes?”

Dark doesn’t answer Voodoo right away, instead removing something from his pocket and setting it down on the desk before her. It’s a pen, well-used, ink caked around the nib. Voodoo only has a moment to put the clues together before Dark speaks.

“The Author,” he says.

Voodoo’s blue eye widens, then narrows as a vicious snarl warps her face. She rises from her chair, slamming her palms down on the top of her desk.

“No,” she growls, “What the hell do you take me for?”

Just like that, the situation flips, and Voodoo assumes the defensive as Dark slips back into control like it were water.

“I have sufficient payment,” Dark says calmly, “So what’s the problem? Business is business, you’ve said as much yourself, my dear.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that, you fucking lowlife,” Voodoo snaps, “And my problem is that the Author is my fucking friend, and you know that. Business is business, yeah, but it’s my business, and I don’t care what you offer me, I’m not hurting the Author.”

“I’m trying to play fair,” Dark says with an even tone, “I am giving you exactly what you require. Why is it now that you decide to develop morals?” He stares at Voodoo. “I know who you are, and I know how you are. You do this work because you enjoy causing pain. Why does it matter where the pain comes from? The Author never has to find out who took his eyes. It can be between us alone.”

“As if I believe that,” Voodoo counters, now vibrating with rage, “As if you won’t hold it over my head for the rest of my existence to keep me in line. Oh, no, Voodoo,” she says in a mimicking, mocking tone, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, I might tell the Author that you betrayed him for a stupid goddamn cane.” Dark almost flinches, and Voodoo almost smiles. “Yeah, right. I’m not giving you that kind of power. And if I don’t have morals, I can hurt and not hurt people for arbitrary reasons, yes? So my arbitrary reason for not hurting the Author is that I like him, and I don’t want to help you.” She shrugs, but it’s clear she’s still angered. “I guess that’s two reasons, but whatever.”

“You can help me,” Dark growls, undeterred, “Or I will make you regret it.”

Voodoo barks out a laugh.

“What could you possibly do to me?” she bites back, “I’m not scared of you, I’m not scared of your void, and I’m sure as hell not scared of pain. There’s no way you’d ever kill me; hell, you might as well kill the Author if you hate him enough to want to blind him, but you aren’t. Maybe you could stifle my business, but who has the time? Are really mad enough at me to spend weeks or months meddling with humans who want my help until they don’t want it anymore?” She’s grinning again, but it’s the angriest smile Dark has ever seen, and her blue eye is blazing with manic hate. “There’s nothing you could threaten me with to change my mind. If you want to blind the Author so bad, do it yourself. I’ll have no part in it.”

“Perhaps I cannot force you,” Dark admits, “But answer me this, Voodoo: If you hate my plan so much, then why are you merely leaving me to my own devices instead of trying to stop me?”

“Because I can’t force you, either,” Voodoo replies, suddenly almost sad. Her button eye glints. “I can’t stop this, I can see that clearly. But just because it’s inevitable doesn’t mean I have to hasten it.” She shakes her head. “At this point, it’s all about whose side I want to be on, and it sure as hell isn’t yours, Dark.”

The two glare at each other across the desk for a long moment.

“Very well,” Dark finally says, “I take it you will not inform the Author of our discussion, then?”

Voodoo shrugs, looking away.

“There wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” she mutters.

“Very true,” Dark replies, “It’s a shame you couldn’t help me, but I’ll manage on my own, won’t I?” Dark asks. Voodoo doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at him. Dark turns to leave, a wicked smile on his face. “Goodbye, Voodoo. Best of luck with your work.”

He leaves Voodoo’s office as quietly as he came in.

Once he’s gone, Voodoo is alone. She lets her gaze travel back in front of her and realizes that the Author’s pen is still on her desk. Voodoo knows Dark well enough to know that he didn’t forget about it; no doubt he left it there on purpose, to rub his plan in her face. She picks up the pen and sighs, walking from her desk into her bedroom through a door near the corner. She shoves a pile of objects out of the way to get into the room, stepping over an array of items littering the floor, items too special to be left among the others in her office, for one reason or another. But no item in the room is so important to her as the one she holds in her hand now.

Voodoo sits on the edge of her bed beside her nightstand, turning the pen over and over in her hands. Already her fingers are blotched with leaking ink. She wonders if the Author has noticed the disappearance of this pen, if he ever will notice. Lord knows he has enough pens already. She almost chuckles to herself thinking of the Author’s cluttered desk, of the pens and pencils and even the few quills spread over the surface, of the notebooks and journals and bound volumes stacked up around him when he works. The whole cabin, really; just as cluttered and messy as Voodoo’s office is, just as chaotically organized. Author can find a specific notebook or pencil as easily as Voodoo can find a specific item among the piles in her office and remember how she got it. She thinks about all the items she’s recalled for him, all the things she’s showed him and anecdotes she’s retold for him to use as inspiration, and how he in turn has shared with her his stories, showed her how he reshaped each protagonist’s life with his words. How they both laugh at humans, at their pettiness and weakness, how it’s up to the two of them to make them worth something, to make them influential in one way or another.

Voodoo wonders how much longer that’s going to last. Her eye can only tell her the if, not the when. She wonders how many times she’ll have to face the Author with the knowledge of Dark’s plan in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she slips the Author’s pen into the drawer of her nightstand.

She can’t recall the last time she said those words and meant them.