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#hes in the glass bubble all twisted up but its like an hour glass too
sixofclovers · 2 years
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flips the fishbowl like an hourglass
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tired-biscuit · 2 years
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Ruin
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Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni!!], established relationship. aged up, meanie!bakugou fucks you stupid on the kitchen counter after he's had a bad day at work.
Word count: 1.6k
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YOUR entire body feels like it’s on fire.
Bakugou’s hands are still warm from the earlier usage of his quirk as they run along your sides hungrily; thick, calloused digits coated in smoke curling and tightening around the arch of your hips whenever he pushes his cock deeper between your soaked walls.
The November night on the other side of the kitchen window he’s just spent hours patrolling and suffering through is laced with bitter cold and ferocious curtains of potent, icy rain. The chill makes the glass rattle in its frame whenever it hits and provides a perfect contrast to the warmth of his palms that keep burning your skin, as well as the scorch of his tongue as it twists around your own. 
His heavy gauntlets and gloves lay on the spotless wooden flooring in the same forgotten manner your cutesy pyjama shorts and equally as adorable panties are clinging around your left ankle as he fucks you even harder into the marble counter. 
Your legs are spread wide open for him, even though your body insists that they close from the way the knot inside your lower belly tightens now. It feels like it’s pulling your very insides taut; right to the brink of snapping. You’re not entirely sure how much more of his bullying you’ll be able to endure, but Katsuki doesn't seem to be thinking about being nice any time soon.
Truthfully, the need of bursting into orgasm is turning you brain-dead. Every single time the squelching slap! sounds out from the way your pussy kisses his abdomen, a broken squeal of pleasure bubbles up your throat. You’re literally feeling your brain cells shutting down and vanishing into the fog of pure bliss that’s overtaking your numb mind as you keep producing sounds that only a stupid bimbo would make on her regular night out: which is getting her brains fucked out in the narrow bathroom of a packed club.
Your lacking morals and the way your sanity is crumbling down right before him only make Katsuki's dick harder. Make him shove it even deeper; until he's hitting right against your cervix and continuously abusing it with lewd kisses from the blunt cockhead.
Christ, he's tearing you right apart. It’s heaven and hell in one.
“Enough, enough! Fuuuck…!” You whine as tears well up in your eyes. The sting burns hot on your waterline as you suck in a quivering breath. “‘s too much, Kat! I can’t-... Can’t take it!”
“Don’t lie to me, baby. It ain’t nice, ya hear?” Katsuki grunts in reply, slamming himself into you until hot, gooey slick is spurting out of your tight hole and gushing all over his dick and the counter. “I’ve had a bad day at work, so don’t start shit with me... ‘m pissed off enough as it is already.”
You might be a bad girlfriend for it, but you’re simply too fucked out to ask him what’s wrong in that moment. He’s come home from his patrol twenty minutes ago and has spent the last fifteen drilling you absolutely dumb with zero explanation as to why there is literal fire burning inside those crimson irises of his. 
You feel like you’re becoming one with the cool marble that keeps sticking to your sweaty, trembling thighs as he keeps slamming into you so viciously raw and angry now; as he keeps unleashing his unexplained frustration in the form of some harsh pounding you didn’t even know you needed.
He’s making you cry - quite literally. Making you blabber incoherent sentences and pleas that neither of you know what they’re meant to be even pleading for.
About to retaliate, your argument is cut short from the way you gasp when he squeezes your ass and pushes you closer to the edge of the counter. You can feel the spark of his quirk dance on top of your skin as he fondles your curves; can feel him grin wickedly against your lips that have been stuck in the shape of a small ‘o’ ever since he’s shoved that monster of a cock inside your weeping cunt. You’re going to bruise both from the inside and out. He is such a brute, but you still love him, nevertheless.
After all, what else can you do - stuck in this stupidly submissive position like a hot and bothered prisoner underneath the tenacious grip and his firm hand that holds it?
Your toes curl to the point of cramping as they tangle into the adorable lace that’s still hanging from your ankle as Bakugou licks your front teeth and scrapes the roof of your mouth with his drool-coated tongue. He sucks on your bottom lip and bites into it when you try to pull back to beg him to stop. If you didn't know him any better, you'd say that he's trying to make you shut up before you’re even given the chance to speak.
He’s panting and sweating like a roused beast above you. The sweet scent of caramel is potent to waft through the narrow space between you from his hero gear as the salt keeps clinging to his chest in the same way the spandex does. It overtakes the smell of dinner that’s still cooking in the oven, and that you were so eagerly preparing for him before he forced himself upon you like some enraged animal in heat. 
God damn it, even his scent dominates the room.
Fine sugar seeps down your throat now and fills your lungs with liquid honey as you keep kissing him and inhaling his intoxicating scent. It fogs your senses instead of heightening them, even though you swear that you can feel yourself getting high from it. He’s worse than the filthiest party drug.
"Look at the mess you're makin', pretty," he whispers before a huffed, mocking sort of laugh begins to rumble inside the depths of his chest like the same profound thunder that’s currently raging just on the other side of the window. "Drippin' and gushin' all over my cock and the fuckin’ counter, hah! Might have to make you lick both clean later, mm?"
"Kat-su…!" It's the only thing you can give him as an answer and it is outright pathetic. Your saliva has turned runny from how demanding your body has turned to finally become undone. Especially when he forces your legs to bend even more and digs his palms into the back of your thighs until you're splayed wide apart for him like some dirty slut.
Or a meal, since you're, well… In the kitchen.
And truth be told: you really do look absolutely delicious this way. He can see the thick strings and ropes of arousal that glimmer in the dim glow of the small light just above the stove; can see how your sweet pussy is eating him right up as it sucks him in, in, in. 
The lips have gotten puffy and tender from all the overstimulation he's making you grit your teeth through like a champ. You're sensitive as hell and it causes your hips to jerk upwards when he spreads your pussy wider apart with the help of two of his fingers.
You're spluttering as soon as the touch strikes home; chest heaving from the lack of oxygen and the subtle brush to your swollen clit. “More baby, I-I need it…! Fuck, holy fuck… Shit, oh my god!”
He groans - a guttural curse leaving his plush mouth as his carmine eyes fixate on the spot where you connect the moment your walls begin to clench in response to his pleasuring. Shadows twist inside the clever irises from the sight. It’s so hot that it brings his blood to a simmer; especially when you wiggle your hips to feel him better. 
His voice sounds strained and coarse as he says, “You wanna cum, babe?”
“Yes!” Your eyes shoot wide open as you stare at him with such a dazed look that it makes him wonder if there's anything even happening behind the dilating pupils. They're so huge that he can nearly see himself in them. “Please, I-I… Please, please, please!”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head to the side lightly - the movement more animal than human, “You wanna cum real bad?”
Tears run down your heated cheeks as you nod eagerly. You remind him of a puppet with the action. Like he's tugging at the strings that make you approve of anything he wants from you.
“Beg me all you want, baby.” Katsuki smiles now as he says the taunting words and pushes deeper. The flash of his perfect teeth grows bigger; wider and more wolfish when he hears you cry out again the moment he burrows himself so deep that it makes your eyes cross. 
His grin is outright tantalizing and it is wonderful. So fucking wonderful, despite your blurry vision. Better yet, he's wonderful. Handsome. Yours. 
All yours, whilst seeking and demanding comfort from you in the most twisted of ways.
Staring down at you, all rough and tough and mean, despite the pretty, tousled spikes of ash blonde and the pink, sweat-coated cheeks: a chill rushes down your spine as he slams his broad palm flat against the counter, leans into your ear and murmurs, “I'll ruin you either way. Just like I ruined dinner, and just like that stupid motherfucker of a perp ruined my goddamn patrol.”
He jerks his chin towards the oven, and you have no doubt that he will, in fact, ruin you. That he'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand; much less sit down for a day or two. That he'll keep pounding into you until you're sobbing into his shoulder and clawing at his hero suit so harshly, that perhaps you'll even be able to shred the fabric right apart, just like a kitty-cat does when it drags its sharp claws down the expensive living room curtains you've just bought.
But hey… At least it'll make him feel better, right?
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ramblingoak · 1 year
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Little Hands
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I dedicate (blame) this on @nocturnal-birb  and  @tasty-ribz
Mentions of blood, gore and death.  NSFW, 900 words and I did not proofread this because I wrote it in like an hour so...be warned.
A ritual goes wrong and the Papas are being hunted...
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By the time the screaming started it was already too late.
Copia stumbled into the greenhouse and slammed the door closed.  No lock, of course there wouldn’t be a lock.  Earlier he had thought that there wouldn’t be any way that thing would’ve been able to reach a doorknob but he had been wrong.  So very very wrong.
He squinted around in the darkness, trying to find something to barricade against the door, but the only heavy objects in there were the tables covered in Primo’s plants.  Copia went to the nearest one and mumbled an apology as he shoved most of them off to crash onto the ground.  A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his mouth as he dragged the table over to the door.  
Primo wouldn’t care anyway, he was dead.
His laughing quickly turned into sobbing, thinking of Primo’s body slowly staining the floor of the library.  His throat gaping open and blood spilling everywhere.  He and Terzo had fled then, scrambling to get out of the cavernous room while the creature admired its work.
Copia had no idea where Terzo was now.  They had separated when they reached the chapel, Terzo wanting to go into the catacombs and look for the ghouls.  Copia just wanting to get the fuck out.  The ghouls were gone, that much was obvious, but Terzo refused to believe that they were gone.  That Omega was gone.  
Copia managed to tip the table over and lean it against the door.  The glass creaked ominously at the pressure but held.  He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. 
He jumped when lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating the greenhouse for a brief moment.  The glass rattled slightly when the thunder rolled overhead.  He started to walk towards the back of the building, wincing when he put pressure on his left leg.  
The fucking thing had been hiding under Secondo’s car.  The keys were soaked in Secondo’s blood, Copia had found his body face down at the bottom of the stairs outside the entrance.  His neck twisted at an awkward angle and a knife sticking out of his back.  
The keys kept slipping through his fingers as he frantically tried to find the right one.  When a searing pain lanced up his leg he had dropped them and fell back on his ass, watching in horror as the creature crawled out from under the car.  It held a blood soaked knife in the air and had begun to advance towards him.  Copia didn’t think he had ever run so fast in his life.
His shoe made disgusting squishing sounds as his foot pressed down into the blood soaked material.  Another sob left him as the pain began to get worse and he stumbled down and finally sat against the back wall.  Another streak of lightning flashed across the sky and Copia watched as indecipherable shadows danced outside the greenhouse.
What the fuck had happened?  He had been trying to rack his brain since all the mayhem had started.  Something had gone wrong with the ritual, something had come through that should have stayed in hell.  Copia had followed everything to the letter, he had done exactly what Imperator had said.  
He refused to dwell on what Terzo believed, that Imperator had set him up.  That she had altered the ritual in a way to exchange the ghouls for whatever appeared in the summoning circle.  She had no reason to do this.  The church was more popular than ever and Copia’s new tour was starting soon.
Why would she do this to him?
A tapping sound interrupted his thoughts and he froze, holding his breath.  Another flash of lightning and Copia swore he saw a small shadow creep along outside the greenhouse.  Lucifer please, please make it go away.  
More tapping now, getting closer.  It sounded like there was something metallic hitting the glass.  Copia turned and scooted back from the side a bit, watching as the small figure crept closer to where he was.  The tapping turned into a high pitched scraping sound as it dragged whatever it was holding against the glass.
Copia knew it was a knife.
When it stopped directly opposite him, Copia squinted to try to see it in the dark.  He held his breath and gasped when lightning flashed once more, illuminating the thing that had been stalking him and killing his family.
Two small gloved hands pressed against the glass.  A large nose over a painted lip and skinny mustache.  The eyes were dark and emotionless as they peered at him, the black paint surrounding them making them stand out.  It was wearing a replica of his old red cassock.  Complete even with a tiny Grucifix that sparkled when the lightning shone on it.
While the sky darkened again Copia racked his brain trying to think of a way to escape.  Why had Lucifer abandoned him?  He had dedicated his life to his teachings, they all had.  But now he was the only one left and he wasn’t sure how much longer that would even be the case.
The tapping had started again, but now it was coming from the other side of the greenhouse.  Copia jerked his head to look but what he saw horrified him more than everything else he had witnessed tonight.
More tiny figures began to walk up to the glass, countless tiny forms pushing their faces into the sides.  Watching him.  The tapping became unbearable and Copia covered his ears and prayed.  He prayed to Lucifer harder than he ever had, begging him to answer.  Begging for a sign that Copia was still one of his favored sons.
The sound of glass breaking was the only response he got.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
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rahonn · 2 months
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Remember me (2/2)
Eustass Kid x GN!Reader (third person POV)
THIS PART IS THE GRAPHIC ONE!!!
Warning! Heavy Angst / Graphic Description of Corpses / Medical Procedures / Hurt No Comfort / wound fetish / Blood Fetish / Injury Fetish / Blood and Gore / Murder / Blood / Violence / Sexual Violence / Domestic Violence / blood and guts and stuff / there's also a penis / Not Suitable/Safe For Work / Dead People / Corpses / Torture / Blood and Torture / Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
First chapter:
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Tell me, Law. Do you remember Eustass Kidd?
Amber eyes scanned dim room as he raised glass up to his lips. Liquid gold burned on the way down. Memories of his recent escapade pushed to the forefront of his mind, fighting to get his attention.
Who doesn’t remember Eustass Kidd?
He waited between trees in cold for hours on end, freezing air snuck under his coat licking his skin, pushed deep into his body, slowly claiming him as its own. Even when tips of his fingers started turning slightly blue, he wouldn’t abandon his post. His eyes were glued to the front door and waited for any type of movement from the other side. He needed to be sure his target was all alone.
The wife opened front door, calling into the home that she was leaving and to not wait for her. He waited though, with unusual patience. Watching her get into her car, start it and pull out of the driveway, he felt his pants getting tighter. His body knew what was coming. Excitement bubbled in his chest, sending more and more blood into his lower region. Finally, with darkness hiding his silhouette, he stepped forward, twigs snapping under his weight.
It started innocently enough when we started dating. Bondage, spanking. Then came breath play, we dove deeper into it all, trying out all types of things.
He didn’t have to be quiet, closest neighbors were miles away in each direction. But he liked element of surprise, helplessness shining in their eyes as they knew it was too late. Slowly he pushed doorhandle down waiting for soft click and as soon as he heard it, he opened the door. Already discarded shoes laid on the welcoming mat as the front door clicked again, leaving them out on this cold December night.
Heart pounded in his chest, his palms started to tingle. Hallway was illuminated only by TV in the living room on the left. Man sitting there grunted and laughed at something they said. Kidd stood in the room’s entryway, silently shrugging off his jacket. It slid down his arms and fell to the floor, metal buckle clinked against the wood. Man turned in the armchair, fear nesting right below his stomach. Huge dark figure lunged at him from the shadows with widest grin he ever saw. They fell on hard wooden floor, hands grabbing whatever they reached. Desperately he tried to locate some of attacker’s vital organs. Panting and grunting, he jabbed blindly. Huge hand grabbed his face and pressed it down, other pinning his right arm. So he kicked. Writhed with all his might. Twisted and turned, knowing that lack of movement meant death. Attacker only shifted his weight. Pressure so intense appeared on his right thighs he let out loud yelp. Hand released his head, grabbing his flailing left arm instead. Finally, through blinding pain radiating from both his legs, he could look up at this stranger. Changing scenes on the TV illuminated the beast above. Grin was no longer there, its face showed no emotion. Aside from the eyes. As a hunter himself, with great terror he recognized the look in them. Predatory focus. Beast was out for a hunt.
“What do you want? You want money? All I have are credit cards, I can give them all to you-“
“Shut it” gruff voice cut him off as beast’s lips parted slightly. Obediently he closed his mouth. Whatever was coming for him, he needed to just live through it. He laid motionless, waves of pain rippled his body as beast’s knees pressed harder into his thighs. “Don’t move and nothing will happen” it spoke again. He nodded furiously, thinking only about his wife. Oh, how glad he was it was her who went to get her parents from the airport.
Beast let go of his hand and reached into its sweatshirt’s pocket. As it was closing in on his right wrist, one loose and of a rope slid up his stomach, chest and then arm. It slipped under his wrist, attacker made sure it was tied properly.
But it was me who suggested knife, then blood play.
Fist connected with Kidd’s neck at the same time as the man turned to the side in attempt of throwing him off. It only resulted with Kidd’s one knee hitting the floor. The man tried to wiggle his body free, but all it took was one quick punch straight to his nose to stop all the nonsense. With weak whine, victim let his head fall to the floor as blood started pouring out of suddenly crooked cartilage. Kidd’s eyes followed bead so dark it appeared black, reflecting blueish light. It flew out of the nostril, slowly tricked down the curve of upper lip to finally slide down from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw. Trail left behind stained the skin, hypnotizing Kidd. But he had to focus. Soon he’d have much better views, so he went back to tying now slightly limp wrists together.
He triple-checked the knot, finally nodding to himself. With the man’s all four limbs tied, he didn’t have to worry about possible escape or fighting back anymore. Now the real fun could begin.
It all escalated quickly. Soon he couldn’t get it up without blood. Gory movies became his porn.
Without turning any lights off, he went to the kitchen and looked around for any type of sharp object. Knife was fine, he already saw one laying on the counter to his right. But he felt like switching it up a little bit. When nothing in particular caught his eye, he grabbed kitchen scissors and went back to the living room. Pants only became more uncomfortable as he closed in on his victim, still trying to wiggle free from restrains, probably a bit concussed from earlier punch. As soon as Kidd started to remove his jeans, man shook his head.
“No! No, no, no, no! Don’t do this! Please, I beg you, don’t do this!” his cries sounded pathetic, voice cracking on higher notes. But Kidd only threw his pants and boxers to the floor, his semi hard cock on full display as he stepped closer. He knelt down on hard cool floor, scanning flesh in front of him. Where to strike first?
The whining couldn’t let him concentrate, so he grabbed first thing from the chair next to them – a blanket – and stuffed it deep into man’s mouth.
“Now” he muttered, gripping scissors tighter. “Where it felt the best?” thinking out loud, he lifted guy’s shirt with sharp tip of his weapon. “Here I think” scissors pressed slightly into man’s soft belly. “So this is where we’ll finish off. Opposite end should be the start then” he moved to grab man by the jaw and forcefully pushed it back, exposing his throat. Even through the blanket muffling most of the cries, Kidd knew what was said. No, don’t kill me, don’t do this to me. “Man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do” Kidd muttered, opening scissors and pressing blade right between two sides of jaw. The man kicked and screeched. To no avail. Blade just slid off his skin in jagged line, but Kidd put it back right where he wanted it, pressing harder. With first layer barely scraped, he sighed. Throwing scissors away, he looked around. He really didn’t want to go back to kitchen when his dick started throbbing at the sight of blood trickling down man’s neck. Nothing sharp enough laid in his reach, so wanting or not, he had to walk back to retrieve damned knife. He rushed, almost ran, because pulsating was slowly becoming unbearable. And as soon as his knees touched the floor again, tingling fingers squeezing jaw from both sides, much sharper blade slid right into the meat. Blood gushed out as the man tried to scream. Knife clattered to the floor as Kidd straddled man’s neck. Already panting, shaking with excitement as his face became hot, he positioned his dick right at the new hole. He could feel heat and blood coming out of it as he pushed in. Only third of his length went in, but it didn’t matter. His eyes almost fluttered closed, but he pushed himself to keep them open. Deliciously tight and slick around his fully erect cock, wound seemed to pull him even deeper. His whole body shook as he yanked blanket out of man’s mouth without care in the world. Kidd grabbed both sides of the head and thrusted. Groan left his lips as his eyes rolled back at the feeling. The tip tapped against the hard roof of man’s mouth, at that point only gurgling sounds escaping him. Kidd felt electricity running through his body as he pushed and pulled out, quickening his pace with every move. Hot. Everything was so hot. His dick got swallowed by bloody inferno and all it took was one look down at the way meat and skin slightly rolled out when he pulled out, how bottom of the tongue felt on the underside of his sensitive cock. His whole body curled inwards. Panting became faster and faster as he thrusted and thrusted and thrusted. Guttural groan slipped through his clenched teeth when he threw his head back, seeing stars, his whole body trembling, muscles on his abdomen spasming. Continuing to push in until the tip slipped on the mouth’s roof, bending his dick slightly to allow it to slip right into throat, he let out a sigh. He put both palms on the floor and closed his eyes. Shivers still ran through him as last drops of thick, hot sperm fell down the throat of unconscious man. Kidd wanted this moment to last forever.
It was all good, I enjoyed it to be honest. Until he demanded deeper wounds and I said no.
Pulling his still half erect dick out of man’s throat wasn’t an easy task. With the tip being so sensitive now, it almost felt painful when it scraped and got caught on tongue and between soft and hard palate. Still, he managed to do that and admired his own work. The man was actively choking and spasming. On his own tongue, on what it felt like whole gallon of sperm, on his own blood. But Kidd didn’t like corpses, so he got off the guy and turned his body on its side, opening his mouth and harshly grabbing the tongue to pull it out of the throat. As soon as he did that, the man coughed once and his stomach contents splashed out of his lips and wound on the bottom of his mouth. Kidd grimaced, impatiently waiting for the overreaction to come to an end and as soon as it did, he got up, grabbed the man by restrains on his wrists and pulled him out of the living room.
Walking through the darkness with limp body in tow wasn’t an easy task, but he managed to not fall before finding bathroom. After closing the blinds, he flicked the switch, letting bright light to floor small room. He found some sponge and got it wet. Bucket. He needed a bucket. He looked around, spotting big bowl with some underwear soaking in it. Dumping it all out into the bathtub, he put fresh water in before going back to the hallway where he left his victim to scrub vomit off his body. While undressing the man, he checked if he was still alive. Chest slowly, but surely was rising and falling rhythmically. But he was unconscious. That wasn’t a problem though. Only problem Kidd faced were his knees hurting and anger rising. Why? Why was he put in this position? Why he had to be abandoned after finding someone with similar interests? He thought they loved each other. If they didn’t leave him, he wouldn’t have to break into random people’s homes just to get some relief.
He started taking what he wanted forcefully. Because I was the one that made him into someone like this and he made sure to remind me about it every time.
Angrily, he pulled clean body into another room. As soon as man’s back touched mattress of the bed, Kidd was on top of him, forcefully holding his eyelids open. Putting every last spark of resentment he felt, he pushed his erect dick into eye socket. It took a bit of time while holding it in place, but finally eyeball squished open, accompanied by gurgle and then shriek of pain. Kidd held the head in place as he angrily fucked it, muttering and grunting to himself.
“We were supposed to be together. You made me like this. It’s all your fucking fault” he panted, remembering the face of his one and only love. As soon as it flashed in his mind, he felt himself rapidly approaching another orgasm, so he closed his eyes and imagined it was them under him, writhing and screaming. Just like they did when he tried to painlessly remove their eye for his personal use. Grunting their name, he came hard, even harder than the last time. But he wasn’t done. This wasn’t nearly enough to quench his thirst.
So he stomped back to the living room, blood and vitreous humour covering his flaccid cock and surrounding areas. He got the knife and went back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind himself. Another set of delicious screams filled the house as he tore open abdominal cavity, because knife wasn’t sharp enough to cut through this much meat and fat. Kidd made small openings from sternum down to the pelvis, outlining something similar to old-fashioned shutters. If he wasn’t so damn mad and horny, he’d laugh. But he just wiggled his fingers into one hole. Then he added other hand, sliding in back-to-back with the first one. Gathering all those years of fury and loneliness, he pulled. The man was already unresponsive, but Kidd didn’t see that. He was too focused of the feeling of layers upon layers of flesh being torn open by his own two hands. It wasn’t easy, took some time. But eventually he managed to do what he only dreamt of until now. There on the bed right in front of him, laid human with its organs exposed to him. His head was spinning. Tongue touched his suddenly dried lips. With tips of his fingers slick from fat and blood, he risked touching whatever was in the middle. He couldn’t see much. But he just had to see it. Risking everything he worked for up until that time, he jumped off the bed and turned on the light.
But after four years of pure torture, I left. And for a while I lived quietly here. Eventually he found me and, like a cat, every year he’s bringing me those gifts you see on the table.
Mesmerized, he watched as the, he guessed, intestines wormed around slowly. It moved. It all moved. Painfully slow, but it definitely did. With mouth hanging open and another painful erection, he came back to bed. Eustass Kidd was never delicate man. Not once in his whole life someone accused him of it. But in that moment, tips of his fingers brushed against labyrinth of yellowish grey snake, stroking it lightly.
In that moment all was well in the world.
Until he grabbed smaller intestine and cut hole in it. He didn’t anticipate fluids leaking out of it, not in those quantities. But it only slowed the process, sure as hell didn’t stop what was coming. Kidd just wiped the hole inside with piece of pillowcase and gathered some blood, already slowly drying, from the neck. Standing on the floor, he lubricated his cock with crimson, hissing at the sensation once again. It would never get old to him. Panting like a dog, he pushed the tip into the opening he made, guts desperately trying to slip away from him, as if sensing the incoming doom. But he held it surprisingly well. His hands shook with anticipation, but somehow he managed to push his dick right into small intestine. Even sharp yet sickly sweet smell didn’t turn him off. He slid the guts on his dick like a condom and sighed. Yes, this feeling was hard to beat. Slowly stroking his cock through still slightly moving intestines, he imagined them laying there with their organs presented to him. Oh, how he would love to see that. How he longed for their blood to cover his face, his hands, his body once more. He licked his lips at the memory alone. No matter whose blood he tasted, in which hole he stuck his dick, natural or man-made, he could only ever compare it to them. Heat risen up in his abdomen, tight ball formed, prompting his hand to move faster. Quiet moans escaped him as he remembered all those times he was allowed to have his way with them, how deliciously they sounded, how they looked up at him with eyes full of love and admiration.
Some part of me still loves him. I know how it sounds, believe me. But this is the first time he left any kind of DNA evidence behind.
One last orgasm, gentle, like a hug from a lover, rocked his body. He was tired. He was so damn tired. But he also got much closer than before. He slipped the intestine off his penis and threw it back with the rest. Helpless rage overcame him. He shouldn’t have to live on the run. It was all their fault for opening those doors, they should fucking at least help him out getting off. They moved on with their life, forgot all about him, casted him aside after turning him into something like this.
Usually, he cleaned the bodies thoroughly. And I think it means he doesn’t care anymore. Why wouldn’t he care about being caught?
Kidd grabbed handful of the guts and pulled, throwing them on the floor. In blinding rage, he tore out liver and spleen, disconnected intestines from everything else. Putrid smell filled the room as brown slurry spilled out. But he didn’t care. He reached under the ribcage. With one hand he held lungs in place and he slashed them out with a knife. Finally he reached the heart. Relying only on his sense of touch, he cut it out. Blood filled abdominal cavity fast, faster than he anticipated. But he managed to pull it out. Squishy but not like a sponge. Like a plastic mold covered with thinnest layer of rubber. It was warm, heavy. Blood still flew out of it, but he didn’t care. He would use it as a pocket pussy until…
I think he’s closing in on his true target.
Kidd blinked, remembering where he was. People talked over rather loud, rock music as they drank. Some toasted their wins, some drowned their sorrows, some just came to have fun. Kidd slammed his empty glass down and looked at the screen of his phone. He was on the run long enough, he hid and was alone long enough. He stood up, threw some cash on the table and walked out on the cold December night. Another layer of snow fell, covering the roads. There was surely ice under there, but Kidd didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was about to drive. No, he could walk. It wasn’t far anyway.
Law, I think he’s ready to take me back.
He waited between trees in cold for hours on end, freezing air snuck under his coat licking his skin, pushed deep into his body, slowly claiming him as its own. Even when tips of his fingers started turning slightly blue, he wouldn’t abandon his post. His eyes were glued to the front door and waited for any type of movement from the other side. He needed to be sure his target was all alone.
I won’t let him.
“I’ll make you remember me forever, honey.”
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ladyasc · 10 months
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“It will get easier.”
“Sorry?” he turns and his best friend's mother is standing there beside him.
Her smile is that of a kindred spirit. “Missing him,” she says gently. “It will get easier.”
He doesn’t know how to respond. Wordless. Maybe for the rest of his life.
“Come help me with the dishes, honey,” she says.
“I met his father in high school, you know.” She takes the clean, wet glass from his unsteady fingers. “He wanted to enlist right away so we could marry and start our family as soon as possible. He was doing it for me, but it broke my heart to let him go.”
He stares at the bowl in his hands so hard that he may not be imagining the little cracks that seem to be forming in its lacquered surface.
“I cried myself to sleep for weeks,” she says. “It was different in those days. We didn’t have cell phones or email. I wrote him letters. Sometimes they got to him and he wrote me back. The first time he had a break, I was so afraid that when we met again he wouldn’t love me anymore. But—" An outbreak of laughter crashes through the kitchen door, his best friend's lyrical, bubbling giggle the brightest, clearest note, “—obviously, he still did.”
He passes her the bowl. If he wasn’t wearing the evening dress-themed washing up gloves he’d bought her for her birthday earlier this year, he would’ve maybe taken some comfort from the brush of her fingers against his own.
“He’s his father’s son,” she says. “He’ll come back to you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
The night is winding into morning. It’s late. Too late. The parents of the soon-to-be soldier said their goodnights over two hours ago, but they’ve probably not had any sleep. Even try as the eight of them might to be respectful and volume-conscious, there’s a lower limit to how quiet they can be when they all get together. Never mind when they’re drunk and emotional on top of it.
He isn’t drunk enough for this. Fuck, he’s not drunk at all. He isn’t even tipsy. He had a quarter of an abandoned larger five hours ago and it made him sick to his stomach, so he’s been on water all night. Now he can’t stop looking at the clock on the wall. The minute hand is inching closer and closer and closer to the time they’ll have to leave. Any moment now their ever-responsible leader is going to say,
“We should get going.”
His stomach craters.
No. No, no. He can’t do this.
He stands, because he should, but he can’t follow the motions that everyone else is going through. The hugs and the tears and the threats (empty) and the promises (drunk, but well intended.) He can’t do it. He’s frozen. If he moves he’s going to do something worse than cry.
His best friend drops their maknae’s coat on his head to the tune of flustered, tipsy squawking and then turns around. He meets those dark eyes and immediately wants to collapse out of existence at the soft knowing he finds there.
Fuck.
He twists his hands up in the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, drops his eyes to the ground and then closes them. His shoulders hurt, tense and drawn. The collar of his shirt feels like it’s strangling him.
“Hey.” That voice is so gentle, so familiar. How the fuck, how the fuck, is he going to be able to leave this place without knowing when he’ll next hear that voice from within reach of his grasp? Careful pressure under his chin, and he looks and his best friend is looking back at him, eyes glazed with unshed tears. “There’s a t-shirt and sweatpants for you on my bed.”
Suddenly lightheaded, he aches with gratitude, with shame, with love so wound into the fibers of his muscles that it constricts the expansion of his ribs. A cool, calloused hand slips into the kangaroo pouch and squeezes his wrist. “Go get changed," that gentle, familiar voice says. “You can stay up there if you want. I won’t be long.”
Another sweet gift, allowing him to hide away. But he wants to see what the others will do when they realize he’s staying. It’s selfish, but it’s the last time. He wants to watch them react and have proof again, for the hundredth, millionth time, that he’s special.
Later, when it’s all over, he wants them to be able to confirm that he didn’t imagine it. When space between the pair of them has grown exponentially, cavernous, awkward and cold--when they no longer know each other--he wants to look back on this and know it was real.
Once upon a time, he wants to know for sure, he was so, so loved.
“I’ll come back down,” he says. "I should say goodbye."
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aceofshitposts · 2 years
Text
All Roads To The Sea - Chapter Three
okay so, super late BUT i mean it's here!! so, this is technically out of order with the jaytim week prompts cuz this is actually for Wet Clothes rather than Shooting Star/Eclipse cuz it made more sense for the story progression to go this way 😂 so next chapter will be shooting star :3c
JayTim Week Day Three - Wet Clothes
[ONE] [TWO]
-
Tim manages to turn the SUV around in record time, Chrys and Danger's figures blurring in the rain as Tim begins to speed away. There's a loud PING from a bullet hitting the bumper causing Jason to jump where he's twisting around in his seat to see out the rear window.
He turns back to Tim, reaching out to grab Tim's wrist and it's a good thing Tim is a good driver because otherwise he might have swerved at the sudden contact.
BACK, is the immediate thought he gets from Jason, concern and fear bubbling over like a tidal wave.
"We can't," Tim says, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. They're too far to see anything except the vague shape of the overturned truck in the distance in the torrential rain. "It's too dangerous."
Vicious fury rips through Tim, Jason squeezing his wrist hard enough to bruise.
“I don’t want to leave her either! But how, exactly, are we going to take down Danger? He’s covered from head to toe and how would you even make it far enough to touch him anyway? He’s got a gun, several actually. If we go back there, you’re never getting out and you’ll never see Chrys again anyway.”
Jason withdraws his hand, leaving Tim with one last pulse of bitterness, and crosses his arms over his chest. Tim dares a quick glance towards him, his displeasure at the situation evident by his expression.
“I’m sorry, but she told us to go. She wouldn’t want to put you in more danger by coming to rescue her.”
Jason huffs in response, turning his head to stare out the window.
He hopes Chrys is okay. That she found something she could do and got away from Danger. It was no use dwelling on worrying about her now, though. Tim had a mission to fulfill and he intended to see it through.
They needed to ditch the SUV as soon as possible and Tim needed an easier method of getting Jason between cars and motels.
Evanston is a quiet town at almost midnight, few cars looming on its roads. It’s easy enough to follow a few road signs and find the city’s hospital.
The parking lot is about half full with cars of various types and it doesn’t take long for Tim to find one someone has fortunately left unlocked. He parks so that the two passenger sides face each other and begins helping Jason maneuver into the smaller car. Despite the direct contact, Jason is uncharacteristically quiet; the little Tim gets is muted and feels far away.
Jason is still mad and Tim doesn’t necessarily blame him. He was probably not the one Jason would have chosen to be stuck with if given a choice, after all he had only known Tim for two days. Barely.
Once safely inside the new car, he leaves Jason to curl in on himself, leaning against the window.
The last thing he needs is thankfully easy to get. He stalks over to the entrance of the ER where there are several folded wheelchairs leaning against a wall for people to use. Walking up and taking one isn’t a problem, any nurse watching from the lobby thinking he’s simply going to return with a person.
By the time they realize he isn’t coming back he’ll be long gone.
After putting the wheelchair away in the backseat and removing the duffle bag Chrys left from the SUV, Tim gets to work getting the car to start. It takes him longer than he would’ve liked but eventually the engine roars to life and Tim is peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.
The rain peters out a few hours North, the clouds breaking to reveal a waxing moon and a brilliant display of stars. Jason’s breathing has evened out, head pressed against the glass window when Tim looks over.
With the immediate danger behind them Tim can feel his own exhaustion beginning to take over. His body aches from the car crash and a headache simmers behind his eyes.
But Tim refuses to stop.
Not yet.
Paranoia nips at his heels just enough that Tim keeps driving through the night, turning into a roadside motel just before dawn. They’ve put a lot of distance between them by now and Tim hopes that Danger will assume they’ve either continued along the original route or doubled back towards the west coast rather than meandering northwards.
Either way, Tim is exhausted and needs rest.
The motel seems quiet, few cars parked in front of the small individual units, tucked away between towering pine trees. The boy working the intake office happily gives Tim the key to the unit farthest back in the lot when Tim tips him an extra fifty as a tip.
Early dawn light filters down through the trees, too early for most people to be awake. A row over Tim can hear the sounds of someone packing up their own car and getting ready to leave.
Getting Jason into the wheelchair is easy enough, although Jason is evidently still mad at Tim from the glare he gives him. 
Tim is grabbing the duffle bag from the back when there’s a sharp gasp coming from nearby the car’s bumper. He scrambles backwards, looking to see a little girl with blonde pigtails staring wide eyed at him and Jason.
“Uuh,” Tim says, somewhat uselessly. Jason swats his arm.
“Oh my gosh,” the little girl breathes, beginning to look a little like Christmas had come early. “Are you a real mermaid?”
To her credit, at least, she keeps her voice low.
“Yes,” Tim says slowly as an idea forms in his head. He walks over, kneeling down in front of the little girl who shuffles backwards a step. “But a Sea Witch stole his voice.”
She gasps again before clapping both hands over her mouth.
“Do you think you can keep a secret? The Sea Witch could be anywhere.”
She nods rapidly, both hands still over her mouth. She opens her hands slowly, mock whispering, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, mister mermaid.”
Tim looks over his shoulder at Jason, who smiles gently at the little girl and waves. She giggles, gives a mock salute to Tim and runs off; heading in the direction Tim heard the other people packing up for the day earlier.
When Tim starts to push Jason towards the open door he reaches up a hand, lightly touching the top of Tim’s, sea witch?
Tim chuckles, “there’s this Disney movie… I guess you won’t know what Disney is, huh? It’s a story about a mermaid and she saves this prince from drowning and falls in love with him. She tries to become human by making a deal with a sea witch, her voice for legs.”
Jason hums, a low sound that also reverberates in his head. Tim can tell Jason retreats, just a little bit, the connection going muted as Tim continues to maneuver the wheelchair into the cramped motel unit until Jason drops his hand into his lap entirely. Just as Tim locks the breaks on the wheelchair Jason reaches back up, tell me more? 
Which leads to Tim trying to retell the plot of The Little Mermaid while filling the motel bathtub with water. He tries to remember all the details the best he can, hoping Jason is picking up on the spotty memory of the movie as he goes. The rendition of Part of Your World in his head repeats a verse where Tim finds he can’t remember the exact lyrics but the point gets across well enough… hopefully.
Jason settles in the tub, water splashing over the edge, the end of his tail fin hanging over the edge of the tub while his torso is only partially submerged.
“It’d probably be easier to just show you the movie, you know,” Tim muses as he struggles to remember what happens between Ariel getting legs and the Kiss The Girl song. “Most of these motels have vcrs and video rental stores are everywhere.”
Jason’s tail slaps the edge of the tub in the merperson version of tapping their foot. He tilts his head to the size, grinning lazily at Tim. It’s so much more fun listening to you struggle.
“Ha ha, okay that’s enough for now then,” Tim says, standing up. As he moves, slipping his arm from Jason’s touch he feels the fading echoes of mirth.
Tim retrieves the duffle bag, digging through it to find two capped syringes and seven fist sized white tablets. Tim picks one up, the texture lightly crumbles against his fingers. For one insane moment Tim wonders if Chrys packed a bunch of cocaine before he remembers– Jason needs salt water. A quick taste off once finger confirms, these are black blocks of salt. 
“Uh, do you know how many of these are supposed to go in the water?” Tim asks, holding up a tablet.
Jason looks at him blankly and shrugs.
“Okay, one it is since we only have six after this.”
He drops the tablet into the water, half expecting it to fizz but it just sinks, rolling off Jason's tail and sitting at the bottom of the tub beside him. Jason rolls his eyes and picks it up, crumbling it between his fingers and dispersing it as best he can. 
"Huh, I guess I should have put that in when I was filling the tub."
Jason gives him a withering stare.
"Okay, uh, I've gotta take a nap"–and a shower if Tim was being honest but that could wait–"will you be okay?"
Jason glances around the sparsely decorated room, giving a shrug.
"Oh, I know, can you read English? I have a book?"
Jason perks up slightly, wiggling a hand back and forth in a "kind of" motion. Tim grins, grabbing an extra pillow from one of the twin beds and digging through his backpack to find the other paperback he'd bought. Unfortunately, he didn't remember to grab his murder mystery from the floor after the crash but he did also have some sort of mushy looking period romance that he grabbed entirely by accident. 
Jason settles in with his head against the pillow after drying his hands off on a nearby towel. He makes a shooing motion with his hand when he notices Tim still standing beside the tub.
He'll sleep for a couple hours. That's all. The room is quiet except for the faint sound of water lapping in the tub and the sound of pages being turned. Tim falls head first into the pillows and passes out.
It should be no surprise that Tim wakes with a start over six hours later, the analogue clock on the wall reading 12:23. Panic arcs through his veins, causing him to scramble off the bed, stalking over to the sidelite to look into the motel parking lot.
Heart pounding, Tim looks outside. He’s convinced that he’s going to see Danger, staring him right in the eye with the barrel of his gun. That the parking lot is going to be filled with government vehicles, all ready to take him and Jason away forever–
The parking lot is quiet. Midday sun casts shadows from the towering pines, not a single person to be seen.
Okay.
Okay.
They’re still okay. They’re fine, they haven’t been found, it's– It’s all okay.
Tim sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and goes to check on Jason. He finds Jason with his nose still in the book, tailfin thumping lightly against the edge of the tub along to Jason humming Part of Your World. It’s a low, slightly gravely and broken sound, reminding Tim of times he would get sick and go without talking for days at a time and any sound he made came out sounding like a paper shredder.
“Still reading?” Tim asks, leaning on the doorframe.
Jason doesn’t even look up, nodding his head once and holding up his hand in a victory sign…
“Oh, you’re rereading it?”
Jason nods again, turning a page.
“I’m going to go get some food and other supplies, are you alright here?”
Return of the shooing motion. Alright then.
The nearby town is a short drive away through a single narrow road flanked by towering trees. There’s a singular main street that contains all the town’s major stores, a number of which appear to be kitschy tourist gift shops centred around the town’s only attraction: fishing at the nearby lake.
As Tim is driving past the residential area, a smattering of small wooden houses, he sees an old looking, beat up Jeep parked along the side of the road with a red FOR SALE sign in the back window.
Tim slows to a stop, giving the slate gray vehicle a quick look over before reversing back the way he came. They’ll need a proper vehicle, one that Tim isn’t risking burning his fingers on everytime he needs to start it and hasn’t been reported stolen. But first, to get rid of this one. Tim drives along the abandoned stretch of road, finding an old dirt path into the woods. The Sedan wasn’t really built for off roading but Tim pushes through anyway, looking for a good spot that’s far enough away from the main road the car was unlikely to be seen.
Tim abandons the vehicle as it rolls forward down a short decline, enough of a distance that nobody was going to see it if they weren’t looking down. Somebody would find it, eventually, and if Tim ever found out who it belonged to he would have to repay them but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.
After half an hour of hiking he finally makes it back to the house with the Jeep in front of it.
In hindsight, Tim realizes he probably should have checked that somebody was home before abandoning his vehicle to the woods.
Welp. Too late now.
Tim knocks on the door.
The woman who answers has white hair pulled back in a loose bun, strands of hair falling in her face, and manages to be shorter than Tim is. She looks up at him with a single raised, white eyebrow.
“You here to spread the good news?”
Tim blinks, straightening his back slightly. “No, ma’am, uh, I saw the for sale sign on that Jeep?”
“You’re interested?”
“As long as it works” –another thing Tim probably should have checked before getting rid of his car–”I’ve got cash.”
“Huh,” she says as if that were particularly interesting. It makes Tim want to squirm. “Why don’t you come in?”
He tries to refuse but the woman pins him down with a glare and leaves the door open when she moves further back into the squat building.
At her kitchen table she sets a glass of lemonade down in front of Tim, a noisy fan clunking away in the background to provide a palty breeze in the midday heat. Tim learns her name is Ophelia.
“Now, what is it you’re running from, boy?”
Tim grimaces, is he really that obvious? Ophelia simply takes a sip from her drink, patiently waiting for an answer. He can’t tell her the truth, that much is for certain. Besides endangering him and Jason, it might endanger her, and Tim had enough peoples’ blood on his hands.
“My parents,” he blurts out, grasping for anything that would sound plausible, “they wanted me to take over the family business and if I didn’t they’d kick me out. So, I called their bluff. They… aren’t really happy about it.”
Eh. Not Tim’s best lie but good enough.
Ophelia nods along. “Sounds like a bitch,” she says amiably. “The car works, she’s just old. How much cash you got?”
“Seven hundred,” Tim says automatically, knowing better than to tell anyone the full amount.
“Five hundred, then, and she’s yours. We got a deal?”
Ophelia sends Tim away with the car keys and, on her insistence, a tent and camping stove tucked into the back along with a package of chocolate chip cookies. The engine rumbles to life, just as Ophelia said it would, and Tim heads into town; Ophelia waving at him in the rear view mirror.
It’s over an hour before Tim gets back to the motel, hands full of plastic shopping bags and take-out from the single diner.
Jason is lounging in the tub when Tim returns, book left on top of the toilet seat. His eyes are closed but he perks up when he hears the rustling of the paper bag Tim is holding.
“Sorry that took so long”–Tim passes him one styrofoam container filled with chicken strips and fries–”but I got a new car, not even stolen, and a bunch of supplies that should last us a little while at least. Especially if we can’t stop at a motel.”
Tim spent most of his time shopping thinking about what to do next. With any luck Chrys had hopefully told Danger they were going to head back west, buying them time to put more distance between them. Tim had also dropped his credit card before the convoy had left the last motel in the hopes someone would start using it elsewhere, further obfuscating their location.
“And,” Tim says, dropping the two plastic bags that had been cutting off the circulation in his fingers on the floor, “I figured you were bored so I got a bunch more books in different genres and” –Tim can’t help the grin that splits his face– “a disguise for you to wear.”
Jason raises a single eyebrow at Tim. The effect is slightly marred by the way his cheeks are puffed out from stuffing an entire handful of fries in his mouth at once.
They wait for nightfall before leaving, Tim sitting on the closed toilet seat and reading to Jason, clarifying any terms he’s unfamiliar with or other human mannerisms he doesn’t understand. It’s a quiet evening, Jason relaxing further and further as Tim reads out loud.
When the sun has finally begun sinking beneath the horizon, Tim sits out to get the car ready. He fills a large square bucket halfway with water and fits it into the footrest on the passenger side seat and lays down a plastic seat cover to protect it from water. 
Jason is less thrilled about Tim’s other present.
He looks down at the hoodie Tim had soaked under the tap before handing it to him and then back up at Tim, who’s desperately trying to keep his giggles under control. 
BORN TO SWIMOCEAN AS FUCK
Declares the hoodie, underneath a simple black line drawing of a carp, which Tim’s fairly sure isn’t a species of fish that lives in the ocean to begin with.
“C’mon, it’s perfect for you,” Tim says, voice shaking under the effort to not burst into laughter.
Jason frowns deeply, crossing his arms over the large carp emblazoned across his chest.
“And this hat!” Tim ignores Jason’s sulking to fit the black baseball cap over Jason’s head.
Jason bats Tim’s hands away, sitting up straight in the seat and turning the cap in order to read the front:
WOMAN WANT MEFISH FEAR ME
The look on Jason’s face is so unimpressed that Tim finally loses his composure, one hand clutched across his stomach as he laughs. Jason huffs but fits the cap back on his head, brim low over his eyes, and turns away from Tim.
It takes Tim a full five minutes to get himself under control enough to start the car.
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Uncharted Waters
Soaring through slipspace brought a strange sense of peace to Roland's matrix.
All the calculations were done, systems checked and double-checked, and the crew safe, secured, and cared for filled him with satisfaction, and some boredom. Maybe something else was tugging at the threads of him, tangling his processes into knots as he worked alongside them.
They were still more than 24 hours away from their destination and the Infinity was in the quiet lull before the next mission. The biosigns of his charges were a calm ocean, small waves ebbing and flowing as they milled about and settled. Rest washed over his humans like rough, choppy water; the campaign had left everyone uneasy, but now the quiet was settling slowly until the biometrics blinking at him reflected back like glass-smooth water.
Turning his eyes towards a couple of them, Roland began checking on some of his particular favorites, not that he would ever tell. Well, maybe Miller, if he was feeling uppity. But the new water he was treading with his humans had him feeling lost and giddy all at once. Uncharted space for an AI, even if he had some holdovers from his engram donor. Feelings springing forth, bubbling up and flowing over his matrix, terrifyingly powerful and refreshing. Lifebringing.
Checking on his captain, he finds that Lasky has fallen asleep at his desk, again.
Roland appears on the holodisk next to him, a swirl of pixels forming into a pilot with his hands on his hips, peering down at Lasky's sleep-lined face. Dimming the lights off the office to a soft glow, Roland took a moment to take in all the small details. Data to crystallize and keep tucked away, something secret and cherished and held close.
Lasky looked calm as he slept, the usual furrow of his brow smoothed in sleep, and his biosigns read as calm and easy, a peaceful river compared to the rushing waters they become during battle. Light snores bring a smile to Roland's avatar as different parts of him check the captain’s schedule, adjust the room’s ambient temperature, and silence noisy, low priority messages. Lasky shifts in his sleep, eyes flitting beneath heavy lids with dark circles forming around them and the concern rises in Roland’s being. 
Requiem had taken a lot from them, and even before then the pressure was weighing on Captain Lasky. Roland had only come aboard a few months into his captaincy and now less than a handful of months later he was being dragged back to Earth to report. Lasky was a great captain and a good man, but the higher-ups might see what they want and what better scapegoat than the Infinity.  
Even with such little data, Roland was seeing a pattern form for his ship and crew. Humanity’s finest vessel to date, its protector and punching bag, had a rough history and even rougher future it seemed, if the missions were going to continue like this. 
Captain Lasky’s hand rests near the holo, barely touching the humming tech as it displays his avatar. Too much of Roland’s focus is suddenly fixated on that one small detail, and the rising tide within him threatens his fine webs and threads and order. Human based volitional artificial intelligence are in fact, volitional and not. Such a particular word that they chose to classify his kind as. Free will, yes perhaps the will to make choices, considerations, plans, schemes, machinations, calculations, etc. But not volitional in the sense of voluntary. He was chosen, he did not choose. He was made, his birth, a twisted rebirth, a ghost in the machine, if he’s trying to be clever; he’s born of electricity and silicone and the dying imprint of human neural net. And despite it all he would choose them all again, he would volunteer, he would do anything for his crew, for his captain, because he wants.
Beyond the built-in desire to learn and catalogue, Roland feels. It’s a tide, rising over his head, unstoppable, and it crashes down and rushes through him, rushes through each and every circuit he occupies in this 3 mile long ship. It’s too much and not enough and indescribable. He focuses on his captain’s sleeping form and the lone human hand mere centimeters from his avatar. And he wants so badly he believes his circuits will fry if he thinks about it for too long.
The love of ancient aircraft isn't the only thing he got from his engram donor. That donated brain gave him something rare and treasured, a sensation he hadn't told anyone about, but held dear and secret. The memory of a hand in his, warmth and pressure as it was held close and tight.
It's why his avatar doesn't have gloves.
So when he reaches out, not quite touching, not daring to shatter the illusion, he simply remembers that warmth and all the warmth he’s felt in his captain’s presence. A million moments blooming from within his memory, his ship, his crew, his captain. 
He checks Lasky's biosigns and they still show him in REM sleep, deep in dreams. Roland can’t help but wonder what Lasky's dreams look like or if he’ll ever experience them. Maybe when he’s older. His amber glow dims and settles over the captain's sleeping form.
Roland moves to sit, crossing his legs as he hovers so close to the captain’s hand. He checks that his volume is at a decibel level that humans can't hear before he starts to ramble. 
He's found it's a good way to practice what he wants to say.
"You know, I think I have this all wrong. You’re really the lucky ones. You and Commander Palmer and the rest of the crew, Miller especially. You snagged a super-genius AI, while I got the most self-sacrificing, messy, complicated, stubborn-headed humans around.” He sighs and rests his chin in his hand, some cameras eyeing the still sleeping form of his captain while others check in on all the parts of him, hangars, mess halls, rec rooms, barracks. “Mmmmaybe not counting when the Master Chief is onboard. "
“If I could get gray hair I would from all the stress you put me through, but you’d never see it huh? It’d help if you would remember to eat more, maybe actually try delegating once in a while.”
"I know that this is all so much and you're busy, but I couldn't be happier with my service assignment. I -"
Numbers flow through him, calculations and history, human and alien, code and humanity. He could say it in a thousand different languages, but not tonight. 
Not directly, but soon.
"Sleep well, Captain."
------------
Thanks for reading! If you like what I do, check out my writing tag or if you want, send me a ko-fi and a request!
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the-institute-rpg · 1 year
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PLOT DROP : delphine’s surprise
At the stroke of midnight, as some of the partygoers are beginning to droop and fade, the mysterious Mistress Delecaille stands from her spot at the headmaster’s table and gestures at the orchestra, who come to a quick stop.
“As Dante has been so generous in his welcome, it seems only right I return the favor. We’ve all had such a lovely evening, haven’t we? It needn’t end just yet. If I may be so bold, Dante, I’ve prepared a little pick-me-up for all my new friends.”
She waves a hand, and a host of servers files in, each of them dressed in the uniforms of her yacht’s staff, and each of them carrying a tray full of delicate glasses, filled to the brim with a bubbling drink that shines and sparkles like liquid gold. The servers stand straight and tall and silent as they begin to disperse through the crowd, insistently handing out the drinks, one to every guest. 
“A harmless little potion, I promise! It will renew your energy, soothe your aching feet, and improve your rhythm--a gift that I’m sure some of you will thank me for.” She winks, and accepts a glass from one of the servers, watches for a moment as the Headmaster takes a glass of his own. “To Dante!” she says, raising her glass aloft, and then, with a coy smile at the man himself, “And to our history, old friend.”
Headmaster Malvolio and Mistress Delecaille clink their glasses and drink, and the orchestra resumes their playing.
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Thanks to Mistress Delecaille’s potion, the party rages on through the night. The glittering gold drink does as she says--fading energy is returned, tired feet are comforted, and dancers who previously stumbled over their steps find their rhythm much improved.
And then, as the sun begins to rise over the ball, the partygoers begin to drop--one by one, they fall into an enchanted sleep. And as they sleep, they change.
On waking in the morning, partygoers will find themselves... different. The mysterious Mistress Delecaille is gone--even her yacht has disappeared. And in the pockets of every partygoer’s fancy costume, a note that certainly wasn’t there before: 
Your master has red in his ledger. Careful his debts do not become your own.
And where is our great and powerful headmaster? Well... he’s changed, too.
OOC INFO:
On waking, any partygoer who drank Mistress Delecaille’s potion will find themselves physically and/or mentally returned to the state they were in at age eighteen. Headmaster Malvolio has been effected both physically and mentally by this spell. It is up to individual players to decide whether their characters are effected mentally, physically, or both.
In game, the effects of this spell will last three days (Sunday, October 2nd through Tuesday, October 4th).
The Delphine’s Ball event & its twist will last one real time week (October 4th through 11:59PM October 12th).
The dash will not be paused during this time period.
The starter rule is still in effect. Please use #theinstitutestarter for your starters, and reblog your starter to the starter blog to ensure it appears for everyone. Please also tag your starter in some way to indicate the timeline. (For example, ‘delphine’s ball’, ‘delphine’s surprise’, ‘event starter’, etc.)
For multiple muses, please space your open starters at least two hours apart.
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kowlsy · 1 year
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Eddy boba shop owner
Eddy likes working at the cafe. Its. Satisfying. He knows how to make good tea, he does so quickly and he has spent a fair few hours thinking of the most efficient way to do many drinks at once, arrange the counters, time when the boba will be done.
Its easy and it pays the bills and leaves him plenty of time to live life, practice and meet with his few remaining uni friends, cook good meals and go on long walks.
He's living a small life and he's okay with that. It's not what his mother wanted. It's not what he wanted. But he is genuinely, truly happy to wake up each morning, play for the morning fog, and make people smile all afternoon.
Then. Brett starts coming in. That's what the tag on his case says at least. please return to: Brett Yang. Eddy tries not to memorized the following phone number.
He still finds it doodled on the edges of the receipt paper he's meant to be changing
oolong milk tea, 30% sugar, less ice. with bubbles. sometimes regular milk tea, once a fruit infusion but. On Mondays Thursdays and Fridays at around 4pm. Oolong milk tea, 30% sugar, less ice. with bubbles.
He's beautiful. He’s. Big. Big smile, big glasses, big voice big presence that makes Eddy blush a little. The shop never feels so small as when Brett yang is in it. Eddy lives a small life. Much to small for Brett Yang, who has a QSO badge clipped to his jacket most days
but. Brett smiles at Eddy. Smiles at Eddy when he can't help by roll his eyes at the young boy who gets oreo mocha twist with sweet mousse. Winks at Eddy when picking up his drink. Laughs when Eddy stumbles through a joke.
Eddy starts playing tchaik a lot more, and tells himself he needs to get a grip because, really? Over a costumer who probably wouldn’t even recognize Eddy without the menu hanging above his head?
He's. Trying. he really is. he starts making Brett's order as soon as the man comes it. Brett starts standing at the counter, and Eddy learns how his face wears joy, the first time he takes a sip. They talk about the weather and the trains and Brett asks for his name.
They; maybe become friends? Eddy's life is small. But he can fit a friend in. Despite what else he yearns for. Brett smiles at him and grins when Eddy knows too much about violin, crows that of course Eddy is a violinist, starts asking to hear what pieces he's working on.
He shoves notes across the counter when Eddy starts giving him a discount, tells Eddy about his work, his roommates cat, his favorite bar. Eddy takes note, and tries not to read into it.
(“I literally told him about how cute this bar was, and how I love taking people there and he just nodded along? I'm crazy, no, stop laughing at me, he's just being polite because I'm a customer he's so not interested”)
He starts showing up earlier, just to talk to Eddy. Eddy starts taking his breaks early, just to talk to Brett. It's. Everything, maybe. To chat with him. He just…gets Eddy. Like a missing puzzle piece.
idk how to finish this but uhhhh eddy is sick one day and then the next time B is so worried n gives him his number n E texts him like “haha yes.” and then B texts back “damn should have done this months ago” and then Eddy
decides to do something bold for once and texts “haha if you would have done that i would have thought you were hitting on me.” then he goes and hypervenelates a little til B responds “damn i REALLY should have done it then” n then they kiss kiss fall in love
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kimnjss · 3 years
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uncharted territory | kth
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⤑  series: kinda hot
⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader
⤑ genre: lmao i don’t even know... angst? smut?
⤑ rating: explicit
⤑ word count: 7.5K // unedited.
⤑ warnings: use of alcohol and weed, cursing, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, over-the-shirt nipple play, dry humping, ruined orgasms.
⤑ A/N: hihihi! just here to remind you how much i appreciate all of you guys reading this story nd getting as invested as you are!! don’t hesitate to let me know what’s on your mind - no matter what it is ., feedback is my favorite!!
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:07
Hoseok is leaning handsomely against the side of his car when you're stepping out. Arms crossed over his chest as his teeth nibble on his lower lip, eyes seeming to sparkle when he's looking at you. The shine only getting brighter when the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. Body lifting from the side of the car to pull the passenger's door open, gesturing to it with his hand.
“Ooh, check out the gentleman,” You're teasing with a laugh, ducking into your seat as he rolls his eyes. Jogging around the front of the car until he's sinking into the spot beside you, taking another moment to let his eyes travel over your body.
Nodding slightly to himself before he's grinning, “You look hot,” His warm hand landing on your thigh to give it a little squeeze before he's pulling from his parking spot and onto the road.
Compliments from Hoseok came sparingly, wasn't really one to gush over your appearance with mere words. He was more of a show-er than a talker in that sense. So when he was paying you a compliment, it was never anything all that deep. Never once compared the brightness of your eyes to the sunlight or whatever Shakespearean shit he could muster up. He was just going with what he thought and you appreciated that.
It kept things from getting confusing between the two of you. If he was constantly dotting on you and telling you how amazing he thought you were (and you were amazing, no doubt about that), but if he was telling you.. it would definitely put a damper on your whole arrangement. You were a simple girl to be completely honest. Words got to you, you'd be head over heels in love if he was calling you beautiful every chance he got.
Hot was good. Hot was fine. Hot was safe. Because catching feelings for Hoseok? You'd be better off standing in the middle of the road waiting to be run over. And then getting the driver to put it in reverse. Hoseok was brutal when it came to girls and relationships, didn't waste time on feelings or the overly emotional.
A bit of an asshole, but that was why you liked him. He knew how to keep things fun and exciting, loved being surrounded by people. But he wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if the circumstances called for it. He was cool. To put it simply. A very cool guy taking you out on a date. Anyone would be giddy about that, it was Jung Hoseok for crying out loud!
“What you got a taste for?” His eyes don't move from the road in front of him. One hand steering the wheel while the other keeps its hold on your thigh. Skin easily warming under his touch, you force yourself to focus on what he's saying.
Having to keep yourself from suggesting, (for the first time in person but the eighth(?) to him) skipping dinner and going back to your place to make proper use of your time. You bite that down. He wanted to take you out to eat, so you planned to humor him. Eat with him so he can eat you out. Simple.
“Anything, really. You like pasta. Should we just go to that Italian place?” With a slight nod, he's directing the car toward the restaurant. The smile on his face lets you know that he had been secretly hoping to get to eat there tonight. It was his favorite place to go, knew the menu like the back of his hand.
So he's pleased that you're suggesting it.
The car ride is filled with soft music and playful banter about whatever comes to mind. He's challenging you, saying things that he knows will get under your skin just to hear you argue why he's wrong. Laughing as you outline all the reasons why mints and chocolate should be far away from each other.
He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the restaurant. Still egging you on with why he thinks you're wrong, laughing at the way your face twists up at him. Pausing only briefly to get your table, but the debate is in full swing the moment the two of you are settled across from each other.
There's a subtle type of competitiveness in his tone, paired with the playful smile on his face. Not even a full hour here with him and you were starting to see what Jimin was talking about. Being out with Hoseok, talking beyond where you should do it next, was something you never considered. 
It's nice.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:59
Conversation between the two of you doesn't die down even after your food is being set down in front of you. You're only now noticing that you never really talked to Hoseok before. You were friends, of course, that's what the 'F' in FWB stood for, but you were more like group friends.
Never really hung out alone until some months ago when you were starting this whole thing up. And fucking didn't really account for all that much talking. You knew nothing about him aside from the fact he was Taehyung's asshole womanizer roommate. No idea how witty, how animated, how attractive he could be.
It made you want him even more.
He's in the middle of explaining the King Henry VIII drama he had seen the other night, which is also surprising. He almost seemed 'too cool' to be this interested in a period piece starring Natalie Portman. But he's speaking so excitedly, that you can't help but hang on to every word from his lips. All until your phone is flashing on the table beside you, Taehyung's smiling face lighting up the screen.
The buzz steals both of your attention from the conversation, your brow furrowing slightly. A part of you knows that he's only calling for nonsense, probably in the midst of a fight with his girlfriend and he's calling for you to tell him he's right. It's hardly ever an emergency when he's calling you, so there should be no problem with letting his call go to voicemail.
Especially this close to the end of your date, you'd be heading back home with Hoseok in no time. Plus he could just text you if it was something important. There was no reason to answer, and yet, you can't keep your hand from reaching for the device. Shooting an apologetic smile over at Hoseok.
“He knows I'm with you... he wouldn't call if-,” The nod of Hoseok's head cuts you off, waving you away with a smile to take your call. And you're excusing yourself quickly, pressing the phone to your ear once you're far enough away from the table.
He better have his dick caught in a mousetrap or something to justify interrupting your dinner. “Tae. What's going on?” You listen, for any telling sounds of things being out of the ordinary. All you hear is the hum of the TV and his heavy breathing hitting the line.
“Yn, you've gotta get over here.” There's an urgency in his voice that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Why? What's going on?” It's probably something stupid, it usually is when it comes to Taehyung. But curiosity has already set in and you find yourself thinking of how to tell Hoseok you have to go. 
“I can't just tell you... you have to come,”
Groaning into the phone, your hand lifts to pinch the base of your nose. A deep sigh leaving your lips. “Tae. I'm out right now. If this isn't urgent-”
He's quick to cut your words, “It really can't wait.” He almost sounds serious, which has the slight annoyance you feel melting away. “Okay, okay. I'll be there in a minute,” Quick to hang up the phone and head back over to the table.
Hoseok has his head bowed, full attention on the plate of lasagna as he shovels forkfuls into his mouth. Reaching for his glass as you slip back into your seat, gulping down his water. And you're two seconds from telling him that you have to go when he's reaching for his napkin, wiping the corner of his lips.
“Taehyung needs you to rush over?” How he was able to just guess that is beyond you, but you're nodding your head a sheepish smile taking over your features. “He says it's urgent,” You genuinely feel bad. Even though things between Hoseok weren't any deeper than hooking up, you still had agreed to come out with him. To stay out with him.
To leave in the middle of it (not to mention before you could wrap everything up and go back home) felt shitty. You were having a good time getting to know him, but if you didn't go see what was going on with Taehyung, you knew it would bother you for the rest of the night.
Despite everything, Hoseok seems to understand. Insisting you finish the rest of your risotto before he's paying the bill. He even keeps up with the bubbly conversation from earlier, enjoying the sound of your laughter all the way to the car. Guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.
He lets you choose the music and hums along with the songs you play. It's not long before he's pulling up in front of his house, car staying on as he steps on the brake. You wait for him to put the car in park and when he doesn't, you're shooting a confused look in his direction.
“You're not coming in?”
He's quick to shake his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna go see what's up with those girls in building E.” Oh. Right. You almost forgot for a second who you were dealing with. Jung Hoseok, notorious fuck boy. If he wasn't sleeping with you, then he'd just find someone else to do it with.
Feeling bad for cutting your date short was useless. “See you later, then.” He meets your words with a nod, waiting patiently for you to get out of his car. Spares a moment to lift his hand in a wave before he's speeding down the road.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 20:21
Taehyung is sat on the couch when you enter the house. Hunched over a bowl with chopsticks in hand. Torso bare and hair falling in a ruffled mess around his face. He doesn't budge at the sound of the door, too focused on pushing long strings of spicy noodles into his mouth.
He could've at least put together a fake emergency if he was going to call you over like this. Pretended his arm was broken or something, instead of coolly sitting on the couch trying to gulp down his beer around the mouthful of Ramen.
“Hey! What's so urgent? Why are you half-naked?” Your loud voice startles him, droplets of beer falling from his lips and rolling down his chest. He swallows, reaching forward to grab up a napkin, using it to wipe at his well worked on pecs. 
Your eyes follow the movement of his hand, long fingers brushing the droplets from his tanned skin. It must be the anticipation of getting fucked tonight because you're finding it hard to tear your gaze from the ripples of his stomach. “I'm in from the gym,” He explains the no shirt, the tightness in his arms that have fallen victim to your greedy stare. Flexing obviously as he reaches for his drink again, taking a few sips before he's picking up his bowl. His chest tenses with the movement.
Has he always been this... wow? Quite literally staring in the middle of the room, greedily enjoying the sight of your best friend without his shirt on. Yet, it's not the first time you've seen him sans shirt. Countless sleepovers and pool parties, but his bare stomach seemed different now.
Seriously. Did he always have abs like that?
You're forcing yourself to look away, face grimacing at the loud burp he lets out. Enough to snap you from your thoughts, wherever they were going was uncharted territory. And you had no interest in exploring that, especially when you were supposed to be annoyed with him!
“What's the problem? Why'd you make me rush over?” Wearily, you step closer to him. Eyes scanning over his body in a less pervy way, trying to detect any sign of injury. Maybe even a paper cut a little too deep. “Are you okay?” Your face inches from his, still searching.
He's laughing, hand lifting to rest on your forehead, pushing your head back slightly. “I'm fine. Want some?” Taehyung lifts the bowl between the two of you. And your gaze drops to the spicy scent. And normally you'd be letting out an excited whoop, accepting his generous offer and plopping down beside him.
But right now, all you are is annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated. If it wasn't for him, no doubt you'd be off somewhere with Hoseok, minutes from having your eyes rolled back, nails scraping against his skin. Instead, you're here, no emergency in sight. You shaved for this! Matched your lingerie for this! What a waste.
“Are you fucking kidding me!? I was out with Hoseok, Taehyung.” As if he didn't know. And he had the audacity, to sit there, slurping his noodles as if he wasn't at fault for this annoying ache in the pit of your stomach. Something that would've been long taken care of if it wasn't for him.
His shoulders lift in an uninterested shrug, jaw falling slack as he shovels another mouthful into his mouth. “Well... now you're not. It's extra spicy. Your favorite,” He's offering more food up to you and all you do is roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated huff.
“You're fucking ridiculous,” You scoff, hands rummaging through the contents of your purse until your fingers are catching onto your phone. “I'm calling Hoseok,” You announce for no real reason, especially because he acts as if he hasn't heard your words. Attention back on the hot bowl in his lap.
He's being weird and you don't know what it is. Noticed it in doses these past few days and assumed it would just blow over... but he just seemed to be acting more and more out of character the more time passed. It confused you. And you hated being confused.
Part of you was convinced that it had something to do with him now knowing that you're sleeping with his roommate. The side comments, inadvertently trying to cock block, and now this being proof enough. But there was another part of you... a much smaller, poorly trained part, that was convinced these were the actions of a jealous man.
What would he have to be jealous of, right? It wasn't like he wanted to be the one sleeping with Hoseok. Well, debatable... but seriously, the way he's been acting lately has led you to believe that there was something else going on that he wasn't telling you. Tae's known the guys you've fucked around with before and never has he acted so... stiff?
Something changed. Something was different. And you can't help but wonder if the picture incident had something to do with it. Highly unlikely, as Joon said, he has probably already forgotten about it. But, nothing else made sense.
Hoseok doesn't answer. Not like you actually expected him to. He went to 'see what's up with the girls in Building E'. No doubt busy with that, why would he answer his phone? “Come on, Yn.” Taehyung is beside you now, you're not sure when he stood up, but you can smell the sweetness of his body spray. Even after the time, he spent in the gym.
“Listen, I'm sorry I interrupted you.” His hand is reaching to lower your phone, halting your request for an Uber. “...but you're here now. Just stay. Relax.” Flashing that breathtaking smile of his and it's becoming apparent how he gets away with so much. This boy knew how to use his looks to his advantage, there was no denying that.
But, you're not easily fooled. “You can't just interrupt my dates because you're lonely,” Some of the bite is gone from your tone. Not entirely sure how upset with him you really were. Of course, calling you out when he knew you were with someone else was shitty... but it was Taehyung!
A terrible reason, but the best one you could come up with. There was no way staying mad at him was an option, when he has done the reverse many times with you involved. He's smirking at you, picking up on the anger melting away from your features. “So it was a date. You told me it was just dinner,” He teases.
Not entirely pissed at him anymore, but that didn't mean you'd just let his stupidity slide. This was the second time he's interfered with your much needed Vitamin D and it was about time he heard something about it. “Just dinner. A date. A fucking square dance. Taehyung, you can't just cut in because you want.” He's looking at you funny, this dazed expression that you've never seen directed to you before. From him.
It makes your heart stutter, so you ignore it. “What if I did the same with you? If you were out with Ailee and I called you up with some stupid excuse?” He doesn't even hesitate, dark eyes glued to yours. A stare so intense, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I'd come running,” The deepness of his voice and the seriousness of his tone has your breath hitching.
There was no way this was happening. You were used to flirty Taehyung, got pretty good at compartmentalizing your feelings when it came to the Taehyung that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. But this... this was different. Uncharted territory, indeed. The way he was looking at you? Talking to you? Nothing like you've ever handled before when it came to him.
No idea how you were supposed to react, so you decide to just leave to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of him. “I'm leaving. Goodnight, Taehyung. Call your girlfriend.” A halfhearted request, you're really just reminding yourself that he has one. And while 'The Other Woman' was a great song, that wasn't you.
“She broke up with me like an hour ago,” Again? You want to say, feigning disbelief. Their routine breakups were far from surprising and they always ended up in the same way: them back together and holed up in Taehyung's room for days on end. Only to end in a pointless fight that would repeat the cycle.
They were always broken up, but that didn't mean they were done with each other. It never meant that. “Please, stay.” He's pouting obnoxiously, so you're confused why you find it so cute. Fingers laced with yours as he lightly shakes your arm. “I miss hanging out with you,” Puppy dog eyes aimed right at your heart.
He's not wrong. It's been a little while since the two of you just hung out. Lounged around in sweats, ate, and watched bad TV. And it was very unlikely that Hoseok would be returning your call. Jimin is surely busy with Jungkook or something. You'd just be going home to sit around and do exactly what you could do here.
“Fine.” Eyes rolling to exaggerate your annoyance. “Go make another packet while I change,” Soft hair bounces as he nods his head, turning to pick up his half-empty bowl from the coffee table, carrying it into the kitchen.
You're halfway up the stairs before he's calling out to you, smiling when he sees your head poke around the corner. “I'm really sorry I ruined your date. That was not cool,” There's sincerity in his tone and in his eyes, every last bit of annoyance or frustration you felt dissipating at the sight.
“It's fine,” The prettiest smile he's ever seen pushes onto your lips, nearly stealing his breath away. “I'll just have to text Hoseok and explain your issue with separation,” Giggling at your own lighthearted joke and he's matching the sound. 
Silently praying you hurry upstairs so he can get his heart in check. So he could think. Something he's been skipping out on that since the moment he picked up his phone and decided to call you.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 21:43
You're wearing basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. Paired with a sports bra that you must've left here for one reason or another. It takes everything in him not to zero in on the jiggle of your ass as you pass him. The pebble of your nipples pushing against the fabric. You always complained about how cold his apartment was.
He tries not to stare as you stretch to pull a bowl from the cupboard, laughing out loud when you realize that he's already taken one down for you. Thanking him as you move to stand close. Your cheeks are red and irritated from the quick way you removed your makeup with the dried-out wipes you left in his bathroom. Hair let out of the tight ponytail, cascading down your back in pretty waves.
It's not until you're pinning him with a furrowed brow and an upturn of your upper lip, does he realize he's literally gawking at you. With this unmistakable love-struck look in eyes. “Why are looking at me like that?” Spoken while plucking a piece of meat from the pan and pushing it into your mouth.
Caught and he doesn't even think of trying to backtrack. With a shrug of his shoulders, he's turning his attention back to the food in front of him. “I don't know. You just look beautiful or whatever,” He can hardly look at you as the words leave his lips, afraid you'll catch the blush on his cheeks.
“Or whatever?” You joke with a laugh, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the compliment. Instead, you move to the fridge, retrieving a couple of eggs while chastising him on forgetting the best part. Not sure what was up with him, but you refuse to let yourself get carried away.
You've spent so long accepting that he has and only will see you as a friend. Best friend, even. And just because he was throwing a few compliments your way didn't mean that everything all of a sudden changed. Nothing has changed. The two of you were still in the same spot you had been two years ago.
 Taehyung serves you with a smile ten minutes later, fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than normal. Not long enough to be weird, but definitely long enough to get the wheels turning in your brain. And then he's plopping down across from you like nothing, head ducked as he takes the first steamy bites of his food.
It takes everything in him not to profess his unclear feelings. Trying to limit how often he looks at you, censoring his thoughts as they teeter between mushy and cringe. It's hard with the way you're joking between bites the way you always do, he can't help but notice how pretty you are.
He felt lucky to have you like this. Even if it wasn't truly having you. Just the fact that you were comfortable enough around him to be like this. Even if it had been years, it felt different now somehow.
Everything felt different since he's started to notice little things about you that he failed to see all along. Your cute habit of flicking and tossing your hair as you spoke, more often with how animated you got. How your eyes lit up when you were excited. That tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth, which only made an appearance when you were laughing really hard.
On top of it all, he was noticing how obvious you were. Not exactly sure when it clicked in his mind and it could very well be his ego talking, but he was starting to feel like he wasn't the only one keeping a mental scrapbook. The more attention he paid to you and your little mannerisms, the more he picked up on the fact that you were doing the same.
Whenever he'd bite his lip, rest his cheek on his palm, angle his head in a certain way – your eyes would follow. And how could he forget the lust-filled look on your face as your eyes devoured him, it hadn't even been a full ten minutes since you got there and you were so obvious.
A wonder he didn't notice it before, but now that he thinks back... all of the signs were there. Everything that he missed has been screaming at him for the past-however-many years. And as much as he wanted to do something about it, he knew he had to be careful.
Extremely careful.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 23:52
Right now, you had your legs in his lap – ankle inches from his junk, but that's the least of your concerns. You're more focused on tucking every last crumb of weed into the paper, eyes flickering between your fingers and the TV screen. 
“How is she this oblivious?” You're commenting with a wrinkle of your brow and Taehyung has to act like he's been following the plotline all along.
From what he was able to pick up with your brief summary of the plot and the way you talked over every scene with backstory, the main character was set the be married to a man with much more experience than her. In life. In the bedroom. The scene playing in front of you right now she was just finding out that he had been lying about not being able to have children.
You had suggested starting from episode one, but he denied the offer. There was something about watching you explain a show while getting frustrated about the scenes that played out before you that he found endearing. Not a new feeling, but holding a new meaning now.
He can hardly hear what's being said because you're in the middle of a rant on how there was no reason for her to be so clueless and sent into a marriage. And how her mother should've gone into the nitty-gritty before shipping her off. And how her husband was just a compliment douche bag for taking advantage of her ignorance.
Taehyung is positive he looks like you just agreed to go riding off in the sunset. Leaned back against the couch and watching you with this dazed-dopey expression that you sum up to him just being high. You were working on rolling the second joint you'd share.
His eyes follow as you lean forward, hovering over his lap as you reach for the lighter on his side. Not even thinking to ask him to pass it over, not that he's complaining about the closeness. Elbows holding your body up as you fiddle with the spark, bringing it toward you when it stays.
You catch his stare as you exhale, handing the joint off to him before moving back to your end of the couch, legs falling back in his lap. He doesn't pull his gaze from you, letting the weed burn out between his fingers. “What?” You're asking with a soft laugh. He's hissing out a breath, bringing the smoke to his lips and inhaling.
“You're fucking gorgeous, it's annoying.” He says with a shake of his head, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “You're always talking shit,” Speaking through a burst of laughter, but he doesn't entertain the thought any further. Extending his hand to pass it over, eyes flickering up to the screen.
There had been something that he had paid attention to when you first turned this show on. The conversation that was being had on the screen about best friends and getting married and falling in love. And how that's how you should do it. Marry your best friend and it would work out.
No matter how many porn-like sex scenes appeared after that, he was still stuck on that one conversation. And the thought that if you looked so pretty next to him right now, there was no telling how much prettier you'd look done up and dressed in white. He has to laugh at himself, though.
Blaming his raging thoughts on the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and the green you're handing back over to him. Which is why he doesn't bother to stop the question that slips out next. “Do you think that's really the key?”
Half forgot that even though you never left his mind, you couldn't read it. So you have no idea what he's talking about. “Key to what?”
“Being happy in a relationship?”
He hardly ever really talked about his feelings being with Ailee. You just knew what he told you and that was very limited. She annoyed him, but she was sometimes funny and knew what she was doing. That was pretty much it.
So you're a little shocked that he all of a sudden was bringing this up as if you knew their relationship from a hole in the wall. “Are you not happy with Ailee?” Someone who fought with their significant other as much as Taehyung did, couldn't really be happy. But you could be wrong.
“I'm sure I could be happier,” He's looking at you with those eyes again, flicking the ash off with his finger before bringing the joint back to his lips. “Do you think falling n love with your best friend is the key to all that?” He pauses, the blurts the last part out like he's lost control of his tongue. “Like you and me,”
You're letting out a harsh cough that has nothing to do with the smoke cruising through your lungs. Eyes tearing up while your back shakes. “Me and you?” You manage, letting out a gasped breath. “Like me falling in love with you and you falling in love with me?” Finger used to point between the two of you, just to be sure.
Taehyung nods his head, unphased by your dramatic reaction. “Yes, that's exactly how that would work. A money-less transaction,” You're letting out a laugh and a shake of your head, pushing the thought from your head. He was only joking, talking shit for whatever reason.
“Yeah, no. That would never work out,”
His words chase yours, “Why not?” You don't miss the small pout of his lips, as if he's actually asking. Wondering why you thought the two of you together wouldn't work out.
“I know too much. You know too much,” Going with the first reason that pops in your head, one that you've used countless times with convincing yourself. “There's gotta be some mystery,”
Taehyung is rolling his eyes, “Oh, come on. We're not the Scooby-doo kids, Yn. Mystery is overrated.” He's really pushing for this and you're not sure why. Most likely entertaining the thoughts that pop into his foggy mind, so you don't allow yourself to think too hard on his words.
Or what they could mean. “It's perfect,” He continues. “You meet someone, become best friends, decide to fall in love and now you're married to your best friend. That's the dream,” He says with a grin. And you're not sure if he's actually talking about you or if he's just talking.
“That's lazy,” Either way, you attempt to get the race of your heart to slow down. No matter how much closer he was to you now, backs of your thighs pressed against his. You're nearly seated in his lap and you just now noticed the mindless way his fingers drag over your knee. “You can't pick off from your existing friends. You meet someone, fall for them and then you become best friends,”
His laugh rings through your ears, then your entire body. Just the sound has you feeling warm all over, something that you were sure you had gotten under control a long time ago. “You just said the same thing as me, except you changed the last two steps,”
“It makes a huge difference,” It did. One was the two of you and the other could be any two strangers on the street. For the sake of you, your version was the one you'd go with. Anything else and it would be hard to talk yourself out of it.
But Taehyung has been a lot more attention, putting the pieces together as they appear. And one thing he was always good at spotting (except when it came to you for some reason) was when someone was into him. And judging from the subtle changes in your demeanor throughout this entire conversation, you were so into him.
With caution on his mind, he's shifting focus. Hand lowering to discard the dead bit in the ashtray. Leveling you with a squinted eyes and a purse of his lips. “What's the real reason you didn't want me to know about Hoseok?” Sort of had an idea of what this might be, but he wanted to hear it from you.
“What do you mean? I already told you,” You're reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a swig to keep your hands busy. And to keep you from having to look at him, no doubt the unfiltered thoughts in your mind would be slipping out with one glance. 
He doesn't pull his gaze from you, though. “No, you said you didn't want things to get awkward. I think that was a lie,” His face is much closer to yours now, you can clearly see the faint beauty marks scattered against his skin.
Just a simple stretch of his leg and you're pushed further on to his lap. Back resting against his arm now that he has his hand is pressed against the armrest. He's close, but not suffocating, has left enough space for you to get up and move if you wanted to. But that's the farthest thing from your mind right now.
“Wanna know what I think it is?” Voice so low he might as well be mumbling. His eyes flicker down to your lips, noting how soft they look. And he finds himself wondering just how they'd feel pressed against his. “What?” You sound breathless like you had been thinking about the same exact thing.
He's smoothly moving his arm from you, guiding the way your back falls against the couch. “I think you're into me, like how I'm into you... and you didn't want me to know because of that,” The risk of fucking up your friendship takes the backseat because he knows he's right. Took his time and put the signs together.
“Yeah, right.” You laugh it off, but he's learned how obvious you are.
A grin spreads over his features, hand dropping to your hip. “You're making the face you do when you've been caught,” The heat of his palm spreading from your side to your entire body. And you've come to terms with the fact that you've lost control of your heart. Wrapped up in the moment where Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, your best friend and former crush revealed he was into you.
His head bows, nose nudging against yours. It's embarrassing the way your lips instantly pucker, eyes falling shut as you wait for the soft press. Eyes fluttering open after a moment of waiting and receiving nothing, catching the devious smirk on his lips. 
“You're into me, aren't you?” While he was sure, positive after seeing how ready you were to have him kiss you, he needed to hear it. Needed to be sure that he wasn't missing something, he's been doing a lot of that lately.
The nod of your head is answer enough, followed by your warm hand reaching to rest on the back of his neck. Not sure who moved first, if you were pulling him down or he was lowering himself and you really didn't care. 
A tiny moan escapes from your lips as he shifts above you, the sound being sent straight to his crotch. His mouth is pulling from yours, brows raised and eyes wide as he stares down at you – surprised by the fact that you could actually sound like that. Before he's given a chance to comment on it, you're pulling him back down.
Kissing you is everything he's imagined it to be and more. The soft push of your tongue paired with the deliberate scrap of teeth on his lip. Your hummed moans fill the room and stir him on, his grip falling from your hip to your thigh. Easily pulling your legs apart to slot himself between them.
Fingers tangled in his hair and heavy breath hitting his lips each time you pull away, only to dive right back in. Mouths moving over each other messily, Taehyung can barely ask the groans that die on your lips. Free hand pressed against his chest, you can feel the hammer of his heart.
Thighs squeezed to his hips, bodies so close the thinnest of papers wouldn't fit. So it's no wonder you feel it. The twitch of his cock hardening against you, so enticing you can't help the way your hips lift to meet his just as he's dropping down to press into you. A hissed moan falling from your lips at the contact.
“Fuck,” He's groaning, a switch seemingly turning on inside of him. Mouth breaking for yours and hand moving up the toward your chest. His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra as he rolls his hips into yours.
Just the heat from pressing against you like this was enough to rile him up, mind reeling with thoughts of what it would be like to really fuck you. And the sounds you'd make. You sounded so pretty with the simple rolls of his hips, what if he was actually buried deep inside of you.
His head drops, mouth latching onto the crook of your neck to suckle at the skin there. Your senses are fogged with nothing but him. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Still lingering on your lips and hitting your taste buds as you lick them. There's a definite heat growing between your legs with each drag of his covered cock, angled perfectly that he's just barely tapping your clit.
You want more. So much more and it's making you delirious. Needy. Hips rolling up to meet his and he's pushing you down every time. Teeth scraping against your skin and fingers pinching at your chest. “Taehyung,” It sounds more desperate than you intend it to. He's groaning back in response, face lifting from your skin to admire the red mark he's left behind.
Tongue dragging over it, soothing it with a simple swipe. Hands re-positioned on either side of your head, his gaze drops to watch the way your hips move in order to meet his, a smirk pressed on his lips. “Fuck, look at you... such a mess.” He's pushing forward, cock meeting your clit perfectly.
Strained whimper ripping through your throat as you brace your hands on his side, back arching into him. “Grinding that pretty pussy all over my cock, didn't even let me get undressed. You're so wet, huh?” Now you knew what the boys were on about when they clowned him for being mouthy. Had laughed along before, but having his words directed to you was no laughing matter.
You knew what you were doing. You could feel the effect of what you were doing but something about having him point it out in that breathy tone of his was hot. What you didn't expect was for him to want you to talk back, but the slow of his hips is quickly warning you of your role.
“Don't stop,” You're gasping, hands reaching out to him. “I could cum like this,” Your whispering, cheeks heating up at the admission. How embarrassing, losing it over dry humping, you half expect him to laugh it off as a joke.
But he doesn't, instead, he's lowering his body back onto yours, the movement of his hips picking up in speed. “Me too,” He breathes out, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue teases against your covered lips. “Wrap your legs around me,”
His words are muffled, but you understand him enough to lift your legs, ankles locking behind his back. He drives into you like he's balls deep inside of you, pulling gasps and moans from your lips. Nails pressed into his skin as you beg him not to stop, chanting your near release. And just as you feel it bubble up in your stomach, his low pants of your name getting to you. Just as you're about to be knocked over the edge you've been teetering on, Jin's voice is breaking through.
His loud laughter bleeding through the door behind you, followed by the low grumble of Joon's voice. The jingle of his key is what snaps Tae out of it, body freezing as his head lifts to glare at the door.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You're quick to push him off, looking away as he adjusting the throbbing bulge in his pants – leaving you to wipe at the slobber-dampened mark on your chest. Jin and Joon are stepping in just as you're rushing upstairs for a shirt. Their laughter filling the downstairs as you rummage through drawers for something to pull on.
All while shoving your raging thoughts out of your mind. Still in shock that that actually happened... whatever that was. Taehyung was into you. He had said it and then kissed you. God, he kissed you. Would've been to be able to fully enjoy it if you weren't so damn greedy.
Just one taste and you were wanting the whole thing and from the look of it, he was willing to give it to you. But what if it had been a fluke. A one-off because of whatever happened to Ailee and the fact that you were there. Into you, but what did that really mean? Would that change anything?
You dare to hope, even though you're sure you're wrong. There was a lot going on tonight. Him fighting with Ailee, you being torn away from Hoseok before you can do anything properly. You were high! Still, high to be honest. Would he still be into you when he was sobering up?
Finding out is the last thing on your list. Fitting yourself as his best friend after your quiet crush was one thing. Doing that after he's taken back being into you was another. You didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be, you'd rather just go home and sleep.
Jin is turning to happily greet you as you make your way downstairs, while Joon makes room for you on the couch. Taehyung doesn't look up, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to his knees. You'd give everything to know what he's thinking.
“Yn! Tae said you were here. We're gonna open Monopoly, wanna play?” It's an invitation from Jin that you'd usually be jumping at. Claiming your designated money bag piece without a thought, so he's shocked when you're shaking your head. “Think I'm gonna just head home, turn in early.”
Tae looks up at the sound of your departure, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had hoped you would want to stay, so he could have a chance to talk to you properly. Tell you how he was feeling even if he didn't fully understand it yet. He wanted to tell you that he liked you and he wanted to hear you say it back.
Let you know that he wanted to try to be good at relationships because he wanted to try with you. He's standing with that in mind, shrinking back when you're looking at him. There before did he feel nervous around you, but with all this weighing on his chest, he doesn't know how else to feel.
“Let me walk you home,” He offers, it's a twenty-minute walk across campus. Enough time for him to talk to you... or just be around you for longer.
You're shaking your head, though. Pushing an easy smile onto your lips. “It's fine. I texted Jimin,” It's a lie and he knows it is, but he doesn't call you on it. Obvious that you didn't want to be around him. Most likely regretting the whole thing.
Nodding as he plops back down beside Jin. He watches as you pull your shoes back on, throwing a quick goodbye over your shoulder before stepping out. Not even sparing a proper look in his direction. A huff leaves his lips as he sinks into the couch, hands tugging through his hair.
He really screwed up.
>> PART TWO COMING...SATURDAY.
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— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?
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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!
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dienamights · 3 years
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Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou
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» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.
» Word count: 6.7K
» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au
» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.
» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)
» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!
Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡
Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol
» Masterlist | Requests
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Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.
And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 
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“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.
“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.
“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 
“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.
You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 
You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.
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Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.
She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.
“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.
“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 
“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”
She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.
“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”
You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.
So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 
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You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.
“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.
“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 
Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-
Music?
You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 
The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.
So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.
“Welcome!”
“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”
“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.
Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?
Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.
“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 
Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!
All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 
At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.
You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 
“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 
“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.
He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.
He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.
“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 
Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.
“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.
“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.
“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 
He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.
“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 
Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.
Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.
Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.
Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.
You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?
“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”
The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.
Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”
Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 
But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.
The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.
Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”
“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.
His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.
Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.
“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.
“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”
“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.
“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.
Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.
“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 
Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.
His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.
“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.
“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.
“Say you love me.”
You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.
“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.
“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.
You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.
You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.
“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”
“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.
You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.
Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.
His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.
Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.
He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 
Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 
“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.
“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.
“You better say you do too, becau-”
“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 
With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.
Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.
“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.
But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.
Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”
“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”
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aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least
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quindolyn · 3 years
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Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)
 You in Here? || James Potter
Word Count: 2268
A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.
Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism 
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“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers. 
You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 
You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.
His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into. 
And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.
“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.
“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.
“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates. 
What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.
Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect. 
“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.
“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.
You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.
Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.
His legs. Those fucking legs.
And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.
You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”
“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers. 
“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”
“No one was gonna just-”
You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.
“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”
Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”
Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat. 
A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.
“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.
One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine. 
Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.
“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”
After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer. 
“Yes, Daddy.” 
Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.
“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening. 
The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.
“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”
“My whore,” He corrected.
“Your whore.”
At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.
“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.
A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.
“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?” 
He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours. 
You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.
“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight. 
“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”
“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”
It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.
Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.
A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.
“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.
James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.
“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain. 
You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie. 
“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.
“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust. 
“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”
His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.
“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.
Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck. 
As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided. 
The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.
It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy. 
“D-Daddy may I-”
You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.
“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”
Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.
James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”
tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders
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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years
Text
The one where Ethan is pretending
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Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.
Content | Fluff
Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)
Word Count | 2071
Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans
***
There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.
Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.
You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.
"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.
"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.
"Oh, not French?"
"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."
"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."
He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.
"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."
"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."
"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.
"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."
Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.
"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."
He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.
"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"
No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.
"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.
"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."
He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?
With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.
"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."
Oh, you would.
***
The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.
At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.
It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.
You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.
"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"
Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.
"I'll take the rose and your name, then."
"It's Y/n."
Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.
"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.
"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."
***
It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.
"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.
"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"
What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!
You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.
The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.
As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.
"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"
"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."
"Wait - what?"
He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.
You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.
"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"
While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.
You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.
"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.
"I liked pretending."
And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.
You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.
"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."
It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.
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shurisneakers · 3 years
Text
harmless (viii)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst
Word count: 3.5k
A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
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Previous Part || Series Masterlist
He doesn’t expect to see you on TV. 
In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.
But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.
You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest. 
He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.
Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.
You better get your ass here, sarge
And so he does.
Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.
“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self. 
“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”
“What’s your dumb plan then?” 
“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”
“Where is it?” 
“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”
Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm. 
The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.
There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.
“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”
“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.
“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”
He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”
“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”
He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.
“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction. 
“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.” 
Bucky looks down.
“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”
“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”
“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”
“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”
“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”
Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.
"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.” 
“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.
“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”
He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.
“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”
“No. Stay there.”
“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.
“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.
“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked. 
When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome. 
“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.
“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.
He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went. 
“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence. 
Now that simply wouldn’t do. 
Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.
“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.
“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”
“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.
“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him. 
“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”
He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure. 
“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”
“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat. 
“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”
“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.
He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-
“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand. 
You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.
“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you. 
“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.  
“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.
“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately. 
If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.  
The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair. 
“What the fu-”
“Hello,” your voice comes from above him. 
“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.
“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”
He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.
“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.
There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.
“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.
“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.
“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.
“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate. 
“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.
“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.
“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.
“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him. 
He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.
“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”
He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.
“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help. 
He rolls his eyes.
You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand. 
He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory. 
He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.
The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.
“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”
He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.
“Right.” You clear your throat. 
He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance. 
“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”
“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.
“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”
He didn’t. 
“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”
Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?
“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”
“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?” 
He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back. 
“You go on missions a lot?” 
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.
He got that reference.
“What’s your favourite food then?”
He scrunches his eyebrows.
“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”
It’s not, he’s just never thought about it. 
“I don’t know,�� he murmurs, “Pasta?”
“Vague, but I’ll take it.”
He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own. 
It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side. 
“What do you do in your downtime?”
“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.
“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm. 
There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?
“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”
You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”
He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.
“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”
“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him. 
The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.
“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually. 
He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.
Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle. 
“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”
He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that. 
Frankly, he’s a little stunned.
You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”
At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.
A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.
You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there. 
“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”
“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”
“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.
“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage. 
He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets. 
Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-
“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”
Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”
He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.
The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints. 
You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.
“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job. 
“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”
Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.
Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.
He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.
Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.
You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.
You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.
“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”
He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder. 
“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.” 
He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.
“You wanted to talk to me.”
He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”
“Bullshit,” you laugh.
“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”
“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”
He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too. 
Next part
975 notes · View notes
harry-writings · 3 years
Text
Bothered
- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him
This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 
Masterlist
-
“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”
Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.
Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.
It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.
The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.
She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.
“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.
“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”
When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.
She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.
All of it just makes her so anxious.
So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.
“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”
Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.
She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.
He doesn’t make her nervous.
She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.
And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.
It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.
But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.
Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.
So he suffers with it in silence.
“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”
Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.
She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.
And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.
Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.
“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”
And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.
Y/n pretends not to notice.
“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”
“Oh...”
“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”
Oh, fuck no.
Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.
He’s taking advantage of her kindness.
Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.
“Excuse me?”
And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.
“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”
Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.
The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.
But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.
“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”
It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.
“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.
Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.
Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.
“Is my word not enough for you?”
The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”
Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.
How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.
He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.
“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”
“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”
“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”
Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.
And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.
But it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”
“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”
That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.
-
It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.
“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”
“Not now, Y/n, please.”
She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.
Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.
He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.
Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.
Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.
You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.
He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.
To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.
He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.
“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”
Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.
Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.
-
It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.
He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.
Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.
He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.
“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”
He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.
He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.
“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”
And it hits her.
No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.
She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.
But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.
To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.
She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.
Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.
It never fails him.
“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.
Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.
“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”
He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.
He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.
He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.
“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”
“You’re jealous.”
She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.
It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?
“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”
She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.
Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.
He is the only person that has ever deserved her.
“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.
And just like that, the hurt is gone.
“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”
He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.
She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.
She loves how much her words have an affect on him.
“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”
He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.
She’s his.
She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.
“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”
And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.
“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”
“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.
He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.
“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”
1K notes · View notes
leviiattacks · 3 years
Note
teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺
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author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 
word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)
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honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most
however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly
and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman
every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares
maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.
or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall
but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.
every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance
today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible
???
you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon
the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror
it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do
it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED
the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???
“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”
you groan at his speech and raise a hand
“may i interject?”
professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant
“these children do not need standardized exams to-”
“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin
“levi, i think-”
“that's mr ackerman to you.”
his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??
his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure
“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”
he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.
“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”
the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again
why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???
“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”
personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up
and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.
the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :
his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man
his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens
ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all
you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman
seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look
she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately
mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”
“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised
“wait- fainted??”
you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know
“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”
“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”
eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern
“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”
lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty
“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.
an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.
principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips
HOORAH victory!!!
yet another day where you’ve saved your students
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“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke
you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.
she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times
honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class
and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?
it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while
also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept
you have a small inkling that she may like him back
and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes
it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact
but today you notice the two aren’t in
in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?
“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction
crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk
“udo, you can tell me what it is.”
“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on
lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure
“okay. you can’t say i told.”
nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose
“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”
at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??
but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all
“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”
udo looks genuine so you let it slide
either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright
“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”
“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”
you???? bothersome???
WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)
you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened
english is important
ACTUALLY!!!
ENGLISH > MATH
you will stand by that till the day you die
your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach
the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through
they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax
“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”
“we’re talking about this later.”
you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look
“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”
“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback
finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard
pride and prejudice
wuthering heights
jane eyre
ville-
before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision
he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?
“the books on the board what’s that about?”
your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely
his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion
“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes
snap.
out.
of.
it.
“i saw books on the board.”
“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now
maybe you did imagine it...
and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly
however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility
the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation
you assume he’s returned to his classroom
that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you
“there were no books on the board.”
you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious
“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”
the question is peculiar coming from him
are you in an alternate universe?
is this a dream?
are you talking to a clone?
a robot?
because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years
maybe he’s having a change of heart?
but that sounds unlikely
maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten
yeah. that sounds more likely.
nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way
“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”
for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that
instead he retreats into his classroom
god.
now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.
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“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation
no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief
“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply
the question literally has you choking on your lunch
“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”
“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”
“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction
you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break
he’s attractive
and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...
okay, you are digressing from the point
none of what you just said means anything!!!
at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid
that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?
he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining
y = mx+c ??? over literature???
you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment
it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater
and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.
a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed
“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”
you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit
hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him
you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(
“this seat free?”
no way.
it’s not him
it can't be
what does he even want??
“um, well yeah it is free b-.”
“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today
you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???
mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”
wait...
is this him...
admitting defeat!??
HELLLOOOOO
you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation
“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now
“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”
“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning
“i liked it okay.”
“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red
you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him
“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”
“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE
not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening
grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.
“english is important. i’m sorry.”
your lips tug up into a bright smile
well???
this is a great interaction??
an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people
“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them
“...okay, it depends.”
he’s warming up to you so he considers it
“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself
“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters
wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis
BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?
this is satire surely
because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?
well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence
jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover
poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.
“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before
and luckily for you your attempt works
SUCCESS!!
levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham
“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”
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ok, ok, ok
you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off
weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies
it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words
then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along
you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies
yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!
sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations
he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it
yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all
you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...
and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls
another victory for you!!
anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.
time for the monthly staff meeting
it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads
wait, are you friends?
well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-
no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately
no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him
okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating
he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)
wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?
you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.
fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room
principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident
erwin turns in your direction and smiles
"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"
nodding your head you begin passionately.
"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"
"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy
blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."
whispers travel through the room straight away
"did he just say sorry?"
"actually why are those two sitting together?"
"do you think they're you know...?"
miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you
"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"
"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure
she sits up face burning up
"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle
you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers
the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up
and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children
she couldn't care less about them
"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."
the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input
"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process
at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case
murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic
it's practically the entire room against you now
genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?
"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment
that
was
not
professional.
"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified
the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure
but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable
"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"
scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever
sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up
you feel like you're back to square one with levi.
it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated
you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks
again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down
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two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH
the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare
and you LOVE shakespeare
something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited
but some children are missing
and it’s way too many to blame on sickness
so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent
the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time
but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting
is he back to hating you and hating literature?
well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship
sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you
awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them
now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out
giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other
their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you
“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh
perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans
“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be
but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is
“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard
falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does
“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”
oh.
yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you
“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately
levi is probably scolding them to hell and back
not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general
as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room
“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure
an english question?
is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?
you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.
“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”
levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”
you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response
he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”
taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile
“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”
your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way
like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way
he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot
one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”
but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 
“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them
still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it
holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves
“thank you levi :-)”
it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind
“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”
“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming
again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest
then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath
“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”
oh.
the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned
and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.
you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus
yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him
he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially
you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;
[SCREAMS]
“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 
“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all
he scoffs at your sarcastic question
"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"
"can i just kiss you?"
wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???
thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath
and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier
but oh well.
what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!
and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet
:-)
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