#she's eyeing admins like 'i could take one down'

[rocketruled]

what if she just... chose violence?

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

[luetta]

i saw someone joke about robot girls as an example of kinks that are just impossible to ever be made reality, like they're completely in the land of fiction. but ... that is just not true!

you can set the mood in your room. turn off the lights but put on some little coloured purple and blue blinkers. sit her down on the edge of your bed and sit down behind her. let her eyes flutter closed since there's no reason to keep them upon in this dark, safe room. softly coo into her ears, she's been such a good robot day! doing so many tasks so efficiently! making everyone around her so happy. but, silly her, she overdid it. so you're just going to have to do a tiny bit of repair work. "will that be okay, dear?" of course it will be. she trusts you completely. you're her admin. you created her. of course she has a safeguard preventing just anyone from powering her down, but she lets you override that with no resistance. such a good girl.

press your finger into the back of her neck, and then drag it down her spine. as she powers down, glide her limp body softly onto the bed. put her feet up so she's lying down completely now. maybe hold her limbs up a bit and let them drop. yep, she's powered down now. she's not unconscious, just mental faculties are capped at 10% and body autonomy is disabled. all you have to do now is find where she's sustained some damage. trace your fingers all along her chassis, poking in with a "screwdriver" to take her outer layer off and examine the wires and joints. hmmm... oil is a bit thin. these wires are too close together, could cause sparking and overheating. goodness, your fan is dusty. you've been working so hard, haven't you? gently turn her over onto her stomach now. it's time to investigate her processing unit, her software.

make sure her arms aren't stuck underneath her. once she's all comfy, you can unscrew her entire back panel. make sure to trace your fingers all around her back and spine as you do, robot girls love that shit. the soft human touch is heavenly to a machine of metal and electricity. and such a well designed chassis too, so beautiful. but off it comes, what's underneath is even prettier! oh, even now, it's still hot to the touch. you've been thinking so much today ... you don't need to think anymore though. just let me explore you. read out her event log for the day. algorithmic neural plasticity score. joint lubricant levels. corrupted data percentage. things like that. they're like scores to her. praise her if she's gotten good ones, tease her if she's gotten bad ones.

i could write so much more and maybe i will...like roleplaying injecting a virus into her neck or chest, and feeling the code flow all down her body...your cock can even be the usb!

also, at some point lay your whole body weight onto them - arms over her arms and legs over her legs. to calibrate pressure sensors or something. bc lets face it if she's a robot girl then she is 100% a neurodivergent cutie who'd love that sm <3

[hotvintagepoll]

FINAL POLL OF ROUND 4

Propaganda

Gregory Peck (Spellbound, To Kill a Mockingbird, Roman Holiday)—i mean, just look at him. his performance in to kill a mockingbird is probably responsible for millions of people being into dilfs. aside from being absurdly gorgeous, he was also a genuinely good person and a political activist throughout his life! (you know a guy is great when he was listed as a personal enemy of richard nixon.)

Paul Robeson (Showboat, The Emperor Jones)—this man's life was fucking wild [link to his Wikipedia]

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man. Gentle reminder from admin that the propaganda cuts off at 1970, so anything made after that point will not be included.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Gregory Peck propaganda:

“With  Peck, it's a kindliness and inward strength whose appeal is universal. If you were to put into words the feeling he gave you, you'd say something like this: "That's a guy to trust. That's a guy you could talk to if you needed to talk to someone. He could touch a raw spot without hurting it too much. You could take courage from him" -modern screen august 1946

"Another thing about Peck. He sees you, if you know what I mean. To most of them, you're the unit man or the hairdresser or the little fellow who comes around with cokes. Beyond that they don't look. Greg's aware of you as an individual. Not that he starts asking about your ulcers. You just know he sees humans as humans first — not as cogs in a machine." -a girl who worked at the studio when asked about him

“Handsome face, beautiful eyes, amazing voice- what else do you need?”

"Tall, whip-lean, ruggedly handsome, he has a magnetic voice guaranteed to send shivers up and down feminine spines.” -modern screen may 1944

“His lanky 6' 2 1/2" frame, lithe 170 pounds, unruly brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes”

“She mentioned his large frame, his great shoulders and swinging stride. She praised his deep, dark eyes, and his prominent cheek bones. She described his strong jaw line, and his shock of dark hair, one lock always trying to fall forward over his forehead.” -a fan describing gregory peck to her father after seeing him on the big screen for the first time

Paul Robeson propaganda:

[lightseoul]

admit it

synopsis. loving him from afar was enough. at least, it should’ve been enough. until it wasn’t. (or, in which you subtly take care of your ex, bakugou katsuki, who also happens to be the namesake of the agency you’re working at) (part 2) (part 3)

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~24 yrs old)

word count. 5.0k words

Being the HR Department Head of the Ground Riot agency, you’ve learned to take care of Pro Hero Dynamight in subtle ways.

Primarily because even though he isn’t technically your direct superior—he rarely dabbled in admin work as compared to his co-founder Kirishima Eijirou—you didn’t want to stir up drama or reports on inappropriate workplace relationships.

Especially as the head of the Human Relations department.

But that’s not the only reason.

It’s also because—well, he’s your ex.

The ex who you never really understood in terms of how he became that.

“You know, we really need to redecorate this place.”

Mikuri, your colleague from the PR department, muses as she scans the breakroom from her spot on the L-shaped sofa.

You place the black coffee pods you picked up on your way home yesterday near the coffee machine, “Tell that to Finance. The breakroom decor is probably the least of their worries.”

She merely sighs in response as she reverts her attention to her phone.

“You do know that doom scrolling during your break isn’t exactly resting, right?”

At that, she pouts but doesn’t look up. “I hear you, Ms. HR.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the nickname.

“Stocking up on coffee during one’s break isn’t exactly resting, either.”

At her mention of the beverage, your eyes drift back to the pods you have in your hands. You found that they ran out before your shift ended the day prior and were quick to buy refills.

“What are you doing with that flavor, anyway?” she finally lifts her head to regard you, pocketing her phone as she stands up. You look up at the wall clock—break time’s almost over. “Didn’t you dislike that?”

You smile to yourself, fiddling with capsules. Mikuri was right—you didn’t really like this flavor.

But Katsuki did.

And he still does, you think.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head around to see the owner of the familiar voice—Kirishima, decked out in his hero gear, looking like he’s about to head out for patrol.

“Hey! What’s up, Ei?”

He grins, head sticking through the slightly ajar sliding door, “I’m good! ‘s a good thing I ran into you—Bakugou got called out on an emergency mission.”

He nods at Mikuri in greeting, smile still adorning his face, before shifting his gaze back at you. “Looks like it’s still gonna be me and you during the final screening later.”

His eyes dart toward the coffee machine and the freshly stocked pods. Your hips shuffle in front of it before your brain could even catch up.

“Great, see you then!”

With that, Kirishima flashes you a final grin before easing out of the door and heading toward the elevators.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Final screening?” Mikuri whisper-shouts the second Kirishima’s out of sight.

You sigh, collecting the packaging and shoving it into the trash bin. “Sidekicks. He finally got Bakugou to say yes to getting one.”

“Oof, good luck with that.”

“Personally, I think it boils down to these two.”

You thrust forward the two sets of files in front of you, eyeing everyone seated at the oval-shaped meeting table.

“I agree,” your HR subordinate chimes in from the far end of the table.

“I vote for web dude,” another adds. “He’s so much like Bakugou personality-wise. They’d have to click.”

The recruitment head shakes her head, “Yeah, but his quirk doesn’t complement Bakugou’s explosion as much as the girl’s water jet.”

“I know, Yamakawa-san. But did you even see her? She’s so timid, I’ll bet you 5,000 yen that she’ll quit on day 1 of Bakugou shouting at her.”

Murmurs of agreement course through the room, but you’re not paying attention to what they’re whispering to each other.

“I doubt he’ll want someone so similar to him,” you mumble to yourself.

Apparently, you say it loud enough because everyone looks at you in confusion.

Shit.

“I mean, imagine how much of a PR and HR nightmare that will be,” you joke, although it comes out a bit stilted. Fortunately, they, including Kirishima who is seated at your right and at one end of the table, chuckle at your wisecrack.

“Are you voting for the girl, then?” the recruitment head inquires once the laughter dies down.

“Well…” you pause, “I agree that Moriyama-san is remarkably meek and timid, but just from her series of interviews, let alone her practical test, I could see she liked a good challenge.”

You tap her portrait, “Beyond just being a good match for Bakugou’s quirk, she’ll surely step up. And I know for a fact that if there’s anyone who can guarantee that, it’s Katsuki.”

At that, some eyes widen, and you can’t help but tilt your head in confusion at the perplexed looks they’re giving you.

“I mean, Bakugou!” you backtrack, finally realizing your mistake.

Desperate to change the subject, you direct your attention toward Kirishima. “What do you think, Kirishima-san?”

He passes you a knowing smile, one that is too unnerving for your liking, before leaning back on his chair.

“I think you’re right.”

You allow yourself to do some internal chastising the minute the meeting is adjourned.

Hiding your complicated feelings for Bakugou was easy—mainly because you rarely saw him around.

But hiding how much you knew about him?

That’s a whole different story.

“Good work, Y/N,” Kirishima pats you on the shoulder as the rest of your recruitment crew pile to exit the room.

You flash him a thankful smile before hopping on your feet and gathering your documents. “I’m trying not to make you regret hiring me, boss.”

He chuckles good-naturedly before looking away in what you think is reluctance.

“What is it?” you prod, feeling a sense of uneasiness crawl through your spine.

He seems to hesitate before continuing, “I was just gonna say—you always know what’s best for Bakugou.”

At that, your expression falters, and you feel your shoulders tensing at the mention of Bakugou’s name. You refuse to let your hurt (or whatever the fuck it is you’re feeling) show on your face, though.

Instead, you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. “I just want the best for my bosses.”

Kirishima doesn’t say anything after that, but you can tell the gears are running in his brain. He simply nods in acknowledgment of your response before heading for the door himself, and you follow suit.

You’re at the doorway, stifling a tired yawn when you lock eyes with the man of the hour himself.

“Bakubro!” Kirishima exclaims in greeting. He encases Bakugou in a bro hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts. “You got the mission done and over with?”

Bakugou, in all of his costume-decked glory, eyes the redhead and scoffs, “Obviously.”

His eyes flicker to yours. You nod at each other in lieu of a verbal greeting.

“You just missed the meeting,” Kirishima starts, vaguely aware of the palpable tension between the two of you. “We found’em—your first-ever sidekick!”

You almost want to laugh at how Bakugou doesn’t match Kirishima’s energy.

He simply grunts in response.

But Kirishima’s not the type to give up so easily. Instead, he adds: “Y/N made the final decision.”

You stiffen at the mention of your name, Bakugou’s eyes shifting toward you at the same time. You brace yourself for a snarky retort or a lame insult, but nothing comes.

Instead, he merely gives you a firm nod.

“Thanks.”

At that, he makes his way to his corner office.

You were only reminded that your HR personnel was still around when murmurs erupted in Bakugou’s wake.

“Just like that?”

“Wait, he’s in?”

“Wow, never thought he was capable of saying thank you.”

“Yeah, all I get is a halfhearted eye roll.”

The last comment would’ve made you snort if you weren’t too dazed by how uncharacteristic that was of Bakugou. You stand there for what feels like minutes as the others around you start toward their respective offices.

Finally snapping out of the trance the second you realized you were alone in the hallway, you head toward your own office, renewed with the resolve to take your mind off of one Bakugou Katsuki.

You had just the thing to keep yourself busy.

The monthly HR-hosted game night of Ground Riot agency is the one HR activity everyone actually looked forward to.

It’s the one time of the month employees get to let loose during weekdays and bond with colleagues, as well as enjoy free food and drinks, including the occasional booze.

It is also a pain in the ass to organize.

As the HR department head, you technically served as the project head, too, overseeing all of the subcommittees—from programs to logistics—on top of your everyday workload.

Suffice to say, the week before game nights never fails to whoop you in the ass with crushing responsibilities (and for the record, you’re not overreacting—you take your HR events very seriously) but you dare say that the outcomes and seeing everyone enjoy themselves always make it worth it.

For this month, in the spirit of encouraging employee engagement in your department, you let the Recruitment and Selection subdepartment be in charge of the program’s game proper.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Because now your very own HR members are dragging everyone to answer very personal truth-or-dare questions.

And ‘everyone’ happened to include Bakugou Katsuki.

“Bakugou-san!” an employee from the engineering department regards said man, who, by some miracle, has let himself be forced into playing.

Having chosen the ‘truth’ option, he is now seated on the mini-stage you happened to help set up earlier that afternoon.

One of your subordinates hands the support items engineer a microphone. The latter taps the mic before resuming, glee evident in her voice. “How many people have you dated?”

Cheers go off from all around the room at the question, and you shoot a withering glare at your assigned subdepartment members. One catches your eye and visibly cringes.

But goes on pretending they didn’t see you.

Fucking hell.

Grabbing yourself a microphone from the sound booth, you speak into it, trying not to freak out over the fact that this will very much be the first time you’ll verbally address Bakugou in two years.

“Apologies, Bakugou-san,” you start, “You don’t have to answer that.”

Everyone looks at you in bewilderment, including Bakugou who himself looks puzzled.

You take the lull that has befallen upon the room as a sign to continue.

“Such questions are deemed inappropriate as per HR standards. I’m going to have to speak with my subordinates after this.”

You expected uneasy silence as a response, but you sure as hell didn’t anticipate the plethora of jeers that erupt in the room, some even exclaiming exasperated ‘come on’s’.

You’re about to insist (as calmly as you can, that is) when a low, gruff voice crackles from the speakers.

“‘s fine. I’ll answer the fucking question.”

The room goes entirely still. You hold your breath.

He heaves a sigh, and you could’ve sworn his gaze flickered to you for a moment before he looks away.

“Just one.”

Oohs and aahs get passed around, and despite yourself, you feel a shot of relief course through your veins at the implication of Bakugou’s answer.

He hasn’t dated since you.

“Are you guys still together?” a male employee shouts from the other end of the room, and you can’t help the rush of blood toward your cheeks at the question.

You need to put your foot down, now.

“Okay,” you interject, “that’s enou–”

“No. We broke up two years ago.”

Your head whips toward Bakugou’s direction, shocked at his ready admission. The reprimanding words that you were about to spit out die in your throat.

“You plan on seeing anyone anytime soon?” another employee asks from the other far corner.

You’re about to pipe up in protest—distressed over the inappropriate questions, as the HR head or ex-girlfriend, you don’t know—when Kirishima stands up and barks out a good-natured laugh.

“I think that’s enough prodding, you guys.” His eyes flicker to Bakugou’s and then yours in a split second, face etched with concern, before he turns back his attention to the crowd, a toothy grin having replaced his previous expression.

You didn’t realize how tense your muscles have gotten until Kirishima stepped in to intervene, and at that, you slowly let out a big exhale through your nose.

God fucking no. The last thing you need is for your co-workers to find out that the HR head, of all people, is their boss’s ex.

Before you can even spiral further, though, you feel a hand clap your upper back. You twist to find Kirishima, who is, weirdly enough, beaming with excitement.

“We actually have something special planned for a special someone today.”

And as if on cue, the rest of your HR department enters the room, with your secretary carrying your favorite cake and the others holding balloons and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

You don’t remember telling anyone about your favorites except for one person.

Confused, you turn towards Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” he mimics, amused at your confusion and the employees who hear laugh. “It’s your one-year anniversary in the agency!”

You could only gape in shock as the people around you, the ones you, over time, grew to identify as family, crowd you and urge you to blow out the candle and accept the flowers.

Still disoriented, you do what they tell you, and they cheer in response as you do so.

With all the busyness that came with the search for sidekicks and the monthly HR game night, you completely forgot about the significance of today’s date.

Overwhelmed by the sentiments and the sea of people surrounding you, you don’t know where to look or mouth a thank you.

Somehow, your gaze finds Bakugou’s—only to see him already looking at you from behind the crowd.

You’re about to look away, unable to sustain his piercing gaze, when he flashes you a small smile.

None of those smirks or mischievous grins he usually sports around other people.

No, this one was different.

Because this was the kind of smile he’d reserved especially for private moments with you.

Before you can give it a second thought, you find yourself smiling back.

“You really couldn’t be bothered to change into normal clothes before coming here?”

You, as inconspicuously as you can, look around the café you’re currently in, wary of paparazzi or anyone else that could recognize Pro Hero Pinky. The last thing you needed was a picture of you (the lucky civilian), haggard after a long day of work, all over Twitter.

“Nah,” she shrugs, “patrol was completely uneventful anyway. I’ll shower when I get home.”

You reach for your iced drink, mumbling under your breath, “I wasn’t worried about you…”

“Hey!” she pouts, “Is that how you treat a friend who’s done you a major favor?”

Your eye twitches at the mention of a favor.

These things never end well with Mina.

“Mina…” you groan, “what did you do?”

She rubs her neck sheepishly. “I kind of promised one of my colleagues that you’d go on a blind date with him.”

“What the fuck?”

She grabs your hand over the table that sits between the two of you. “He’s a real catch, I promise you. Tall, handsome, and a crazy smart support items engineer.”

You frantically shake your head, yanking your hand from her. “Idiot, I’m not worried about your ‘candidate’. Who the fuck said I wanted to go on a blind date?”

Mina whines and thrashes in her seat in response, maybe in an attempt to make you feel sorry and just go along with her antics.

You refuse to do so.

After a few minutes of an incredulous stare-off, she finally deflates in defeat.

“I just thought I could help you out and get you out of your shell. You haven’t dated anyone since…” she trails off, and looks away awkwardly, “you know.”

You chuckle despite yourself, albeit quite solemnly.

Until now, it still makes you feel guilty how the rest of your friend group is forced to deal with the aftermath of your unsuccessful relationship with Bakugou.

“You can say his name, you know. He’s not Voldemort.”

Mina rolls her eyes at that, but you can tell it’s playful more than anything else.

You look down at your now clasped hands. “I appreciate the help, you know that.”

She nods vigorously, and you almost laugh at how much of a textbook-active listener she is.

“But?”

You sigh, “I just can’t right now. If I end up dating someone, word will eventually get around in the office and I just…”

You lock eyes with Mina, whose eyebrows are raised in anticipation.

“I don’t want to make things awkward between Bakugou and me, especially now that I’m working in his agency.”

A few moments of silence pass before Mina speaks up, slunk against her chair.

“Man, you’re the world’s best ex-girlfriend, you know that?”

You snort, “Thanks.”

She sighs in exasperation, “I mean, even if you guys had the most ambiguous breakup ever, you still are extremely considerate about him.”

You’re not, by any means, in the mood or headspace to explore why that is, so you go for the safest answer possible.

“What can I say,” leaning back into your chair yourself, feigning nonchalance, “I’m just an incredibly good person.”

Mina doesn’t even bat an eye at your quip, “Yeah, yeah. Why did you guys break up, anyway?”

“Woah,” you lean back, aghast, “it’s,” you flick your wrist to check the time on your watch, “5:17 PM, Mina. And I doubt this café even serves a beer.”

You’re deflecting, and Mina has known you long enough to be aware of that.

She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms across her chest. “Don’t you think I’m owed a little bit of information? I’m the one who set you guys up.”

“Actually, that was Kirishi–.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she interjects, “I helped.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. She waves it off.

“Point is, I was there when this budding relationship started, and I’m here to know the deets about how it ended.”

You shake your head in resignation, “You sure you don’t want to say you’re just nosy?”

She grins at you, “Nope!”

“So you’re telling me he got too busy and neglectful, you ended up asking for a break, and you’ve never talked to each other since?”

“Yep. That’s what I just said.”

Out of the blue, she hops onto her feet, and in doing so knocks stuff around on the table.

A glass of water almost spills.

“Mina?” you seethe, “Sit the fuck back down. People are gonna stare.”

“Bitch, I have pink skin. They’ve been staring since we entered the room,” she snaps, “And don’t even think about changing the subject.”

“I’m not! Just sit back down.”

She obliges, but she’s still visibly riled up, “I knew your breakup was vague, but not this vague!”

“I don’t know either, okay!” you put your hands up, exasperated. “A month into it he got Kirishima to get his things from my apartment, and so I just assumed he wanted to break up.”

Her eyes are filled with bewilderment, “And your asking me to get your things from his apartment?”

“I…” you hesitate, “I asked you immediately the day after.”

At that, she huffs in surrender, sinking back into her chair. “And you’re supposed to be an expert at conflict resolution.”

“Hey,” you throw a used tissue at her, which she expertly dodges, “That’s for the workplace setting. Romantic relationships are a whole other thing.”

She scoffs, fiddling with the piece of paper containing the café’s WiFi password. “And then, what? You took a gap year to find yourself?”

You roll your eyes for the nth time, reaching forward to take back the tissue you threw at her.

“Don’t make it sound like that. I just took a gap year after graduating to rest and figure out what I wanted to do. I was just lucky enough to have been recruited by Kirishima even if I had zero work experience by the time I came back.”

Mina eyes you, “Even if it meant technically having Bakugou as your boss?”

You look down at the piece of tissue in your hands.

“Even if it meant actually having Bakugou as my boss.”

Mina doesn’t say anything after that, only reaching for her cup of decaf coffee. You follow suit, taking a sip from your now-diluted drink.

You look up at her to see that she’s thinking hard about something.

In spite of yourself, you feel the familiar feeling of dread rising in your throat.

“...You’re not gonna tell him about this conversation, are you?”

“Who, Katsuki?” she asks and you gingerly nod. “Of course not!”

You hold eye contact for a while longer before looking away with a big sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

Three knocks echo through the hallway, as well as Kirishima’s expansive, corner office. Hesitantly and without noise, you peer through the glass door to see him in his regular clothes and in his desk, rifling through some documents that appear to be mission reports.

Kirishima looks up and catches your eye. Beaming at you with an inviting grin, he beckons you in with a wave of a hand.

“Y/N, bro! What’s up?”

You smile at him as you enter and close the door behind you.

He calls everyone bro, regardless of their gender.

“Hi, Ei. I have the report on the recruits, including Bakugou’s sidekick here with me,” you gesture to the folder in your hand. “Can you spare a minute to go through it together?”

What seems like hesitation dances across Kirishima’s face before he somehow schools it into a sheepish frown.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he starts, “I’m kinda busy right now,”

He flips through the pages for emphasis, “Have an important report due in an hour.”

“Oh, well that’s okay. I can just come back later when you’re free.”

You’re already turning back to exit his office when Kirishima speaks up again.

“—but Bakugou’s available!”

Slowly, you shift back to face him.

“...What?”

“I mean,” Kirishima backtracks, evidently flustered by his outburst, “Bakugou’s free right now. He can go through those documents with you. Especially since he’s the one getting a new sidekick and all.”

You gulp despite yourself, willing desperately to calm your now racing heart.

“But Ei… It’s always been you and our department coordinating on stuff like this. Why the sudden change now?”

It takes Kirishima a few seconds to reply.

And what he says knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“I just think it’s about time he starts taking matters into his own hands.”

When you got dressed and ready this morning, you didn’t think you’d be having your first proper conversation with your ex in two years.

But the universe, or rather, Kirishima, had other plans.

Thinking ‘this is the best it can get’ as you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you sigh and make your way to your desk to get the files, heading straight to Bakugou’s office afterward.

When you get there, you don’t dare to immediately walk toward his doorway as you did with Kirishima. Instead, you stop at his secretary’s desk.

“Is Dynamight in?”

“Yes,” his secretary chirps without hesitation. How she’s able to still be her sunshiney self despite working immediately under Bakugou is beyond you.

Human resilience, you guess.

She clicks a few times with her mouse as she stares at her laptop screen, before looking back at you again. “He’s actually expecting you, Y/N-san.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Hope flutters in your chest without your permission.

You clear your throat in an attempt to not sound winded. “Really?”

You’re itching to ask if he cleared out his schedule specifically for you, but luckily, you don’t even have to make a fool of yourself because his secretary brings it up herself.

She smiles, “He had me move things around so he could make time for you.”

At that, you blink at her, speechless.

These double meanings are not helping in easing your nerves about this impending encounter.

“You can go ahead,” she gestures to the office, effectively snapping you out of your reverie. “I already gave him the heads up that you’re here.”

Great, you think to yourself. No turning back now.

After shooting her a quick thank you, you clutch the folder to your chest, as if it’s some sort of protective gear, and walk to his door. Upon reaching it, you realize that you don’t even have to knock, because it’s already slung wide open and held in place by a stopper.

You walk in.

Refusing to look at Bakugou, who, from the corner of your eye you can see has his back towards you and is looking at the view of the city skyline, you opt for going through the pages of the file instead.

With a sharp inhale, you finally look up to meet his gaze, only to find that he’s still turned away from you.

He probably didn’t hear me come in, you think.

You clear your throat, and he startles, albeit so minutely anyone else would’ve missed it, finally turning to regard you.

“Hello, Bakugou-san.”

You don’t wait for him to greet you in return. You simply move forward and place the folder on his desk, before stepping back again, hands clasped together behind you. He nods in acknowledgment and shifts to sit on his office chair.

“That folder contains the report on the recruits, including your new sidekick, Moriyama Kairi. It includes their personal histories, interview transcripts, and resumés, as well as recommendations by the departments regarding costumes, training programs, and the like.”

He only grunts in response, thumbing through the pages as you speak. He flips through them so fast that you doubt he’s even going to bother anything beyond skimming through.

He pauses, though, on a certain page, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing as he examines it, before closing the folder and placing it back in front of him.

You brace yourself for a comment on an error of some sort.

Instead, he says: “Thanks.”

Your mind goes blank.

You scramble for a decent response.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“...Really?” he questions skeptically, pushing back on his desk to stand up, slowly circling it so that he can be face-to-face with you. He’s no less than two feet away now.

“It’s nothing?”

“I mean,” you stutter, shifting your eyes away from him to look at his desk, “it’s my job. That’s part of the job description.”

“Huh,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Your eyes flicker back to him. Like Kirishima, he’s in his regular clothes, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What?” you ask despite yourself, frustration bleeding into your voice.

He smirks, but there’s no malice behind it. “I didn’t know HR was supposed to produce a detailed write-up on how a sidekick can best complement their assigned Pro Hero.”

Your eyes widen slightly in alarm, and you find yourself grappling for any excuse to rid yourself of his suspicions.

Despite them being true.

“We are, actually,” you lie through your teeth. “I made a similar one for Kirishima back when we recruited Tanaka-san.”

“Really?” he asks again, visibly unconvinced, and you can’t help the annoyance that flashes through you. “Because I read through that file myself, and I didn’t see anything of the sort.”

Shit.

The playful expression that once adorned Bakugou’s face is now displaced by a serious countenance. You don’t even get to have a word in because he’s already speaking again.

“Why?” he starts, “Why did you do this for me?”

At that, you straighten up, face flaming in anger or embarrassment—you can’t tell. He seriously can’t be asking you this.

“It’s your first sidekick,” you retort, “And you’re not exactly Mr. Congeniality around here.”

You expect him to bite back with an insult himself, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, let’s say that’s true.”

You guffaw, “Wha–”

“Why go out of your way to make me this when you’re already drowning in work?”

You can’t believe the audacity of this guy.

“So you admit HR has been swamped these days?” you snap, but continue to deliver the last blow. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know! Since it’s Kirishima who does all of the coordinating work with us.”

“I do know,” he spits back, “That’s by design, and I’m more involved than you’d think. And,” he shoots you a look, “don’t change the subject.”

You’re bubbling with vengeful words but what comes out is a huff.

“What do you want me to say, Katsuki?”

At your taunting, he opens his mouth to say something, but ultimately decides against it.

Your stomach drops in disappointment.

“...Well,” you say meekly, “if you don’t have anything else for me, I have to get back to my office.”

Turning your back to him, you’re about to head for the door when he grabs your wrist.

“Wait.”

Your heart leaps in your chest.

You pause for a moment, before spinning to look at him.

It takes you less than a second to conclude that gone is the aloof and composed Bakugou.

It’s now the vulnerable Katsuki, who’s unable to look you in the eye, standing in front of you.

“Fuck, I…”

You can’t help but ache at the sight of him struggling. Despite yourself, you try and gently coax it out of him.

“What is it, Katsuki?”

At your affectionate mention of his first name, he finally meets your eye. You almost stumble back from the intensity of his gaze.

But not as much as at what he was going to say next.

“I want…you to admit it.”

You frown, “Admit what?”

He exhales before closing his eyes shut.

“That you’re still in love with me.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife

[19burstraat]

ketterdam dashboard simulator 2 (electric boogaloo)

(first one here)

❌ urkerchfaveisproblematic follow

Who submitted Kaz Brekker. don't take the piss he's literally wanted every other Wednesday

🍃 squallertales follow

Wait what did Brekker do

🌊 boekcanaling

Girl what DIDN'T he do

🦁 dimelionsofficial follow

Ghezen's Day Piss Up starts TONIGHT at the Kaelish Prince! Come down before four bells and get ten kruge off your first drinks purchase and an extra spin on Makker's Wheel!

👤 dregsofficial

545.06.7.9

🦁 dimelionsofficial follow

HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE FUCKING VPN. FUCK YOU KAZ BREKKER. FUCK YOU SO MUCH. YOU DO THIS EVERY TIME. WE'RE NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING TO YOU. WE'RE ALL JUST PEOPLE WITH JOBS. TRYING TO GET BY. MOST OF US NEVER EVEN SPOKE TO ROLLINS. THIS IS SO TWISTED. YOUR ACTUALLY WRONG IN THE HEAD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. I ACTUALLY CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE. I'M SICK.

👤 dregsofficial

*you're

❓lidandstavessuggestions

#234: build mickey's dick smasher between east and west stave

🍷dregsconfessions

So I've been a dregs member for a long time (I'm in my 30s now) and back when I was a new grunt I was especially trolleyed at the Crow Club, and I ended up spilling like half my pint on the head of one of Haskell's feral little runners, yk one of the little kids?? I just kind of mopped him with my sleeve and said sorry and figured that it was the end of it... however it has occurred to me lately that it actually might have been Kaz. Honestly I never could tell the difference between all the kids, and I didn't look properly at him, but now I've been waking up in a cold sweat several times a week thinking about it. Is it time for me to retire from the gang life

#submisson #admin comment: lately all of these have just been ppl embarrassing themselves in front of kaz

🧇 stroopwafels

There's definitely blogs on here that are undercover advertising for the Dregs btw. I accuse that one that thirstposts abt Dirtyhands

🧤 dirtyhandsy follow

:( no I'm a Razorgull actually

🧇 stroopwafels

WHAT???????

🧤 dirtyhandsy follow

I have eyes :/

🧇 stroopwafels

You won't for much longer if your boss finds out omfg

🃏 makkerswheelies follow

you guys are cowards for not wanting to fuck Brekker. Out of my way ghezenboy I'm bout to get it

🃏 makkerswheelies follow

My wallet is Gone

💀 dregsundrained follow

Kaz Brekker isn't violent. Dirtyhands is. Get it right

🏵️ cillasfryup

Gonna rob a bank tomorrow and when the stadwatch come I'm gonna tell them it was my alter ego Countess Boochie Flagrante

🙏🏻 thumbofghezen follow

sooooo sick of seeing people say that the council of tides shouldn't have complete control over kerch shipping. they stop the island from sinking??? every day?? have some respect

⛲ sanktvladimirs

idk about you guys but I'd be popping the BIGGEST bottles if kerch started sinking

🏵️ cillasfryup

me and the girls when kerch starts sinking

🌊 boekcanaling

staff please let me reblog ads please please please please

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

guys you have 24 hours to unfollow sanktvladimirs not only are they impersonating and mocking real etherealki and real saints (they are NOT a member of the second army) they're a dregs member, and I bet they're a fucking ka/nej too

⛲ sanktvladimirs

@ dregsofficial

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

WHO SENT ME AN ANON ASK WITH MY ADDRESS

🍷dregsundrained

guys I was looking at the wiki contributions who the fuck added a jesper fahey page to the dregs wiki... from inside the stadhall???

🥳 pearlhandledrevolvers

you know what. don't even worry about it

liked by dregsofficial

🍃 squallertales follow

the wraith was only seventeen when she started hunting slavers???? she should have been at the club

#DON'T crawl out of the woodwork and say 'oh the crow club-' #the REAL CLUB. for FUN

🎨 dekappelfan follow

🎨 dekappelfan follow

it's so nice to know no one agrees on this

[badbtssmut]

Basketball players Ot7 rough fucking cheerleader reader in the locker room bcz her prettiness distracted them and they lost

Admin note: I normally don’t do poly requests but I thought this was hot 🫣 and I wanted to write poly

-

“We could’ve went home with a trophy.” Hoseok frowned, placing his hands on your hips. “But you are just too pretty, aren’t you?” He cooed, pushing into you more. “Pretty girls like you should get properly fucked.”

Your skirt was folded back, revealing your bare ass and pussy to the group of men. Your cheer top laid on the floor in front of you, revealing your breasts to the lustful eyes of the group. All of them handsome men, the popular basketball team of the school.

“But why does she take cock so well?” Yoongi asked from underneath you. His member had entered your pussy, the two moving in sync in your holes.

The crowd watched as you were impaled, the two large cocks stretching your holes.

“Have you taken two cocks before?” Namjoon raised your face by taking a hold of your chin.

“No… I didn’t.” You whined, your breath catching in your throat.

“You must be a natural.” Jungkook grinned, stroking his cock. “Open up.”

The boy fed his cock to your mouth, and you opened it as wide as you could. He fucked your face with his cock, all the while you were being fucked from both ends.

Taehyung came closer to admire you as he held his cock in his hand. You stared into his eyes as he gently played with your nipples, making you whimper as Hoseok and Yoongi pounded you, and Jungkook started to move his hips back and forth as you sucked him off.

Namjoon chuckled as he watched his friends getting themselves off on your body, a sweaty, sexed up mess.

They all took turns taking you as if it was some sort of contest, like a prize to be won. They were all too horny to take their eyes off you, you were just too perfect. They loved the way your body looked, your sweaty skin, the way you moaned out for them.

Your moans echoed in the locker room, only being interrupted by the sound of skin slapping against skin and your desperate whines for more. You felt the sweat drip down your forehead and your cheeks, your makeup long forgotten.

Hoseok and Yoongi had filled you with their cum and Jungkook stepped in to tuck you from behind and after he had filled you with his cum, Jimin eagerly took their place. Your back was pressed against the wall as he held you up, fucking you against the wall as he leaned his head against yours.

His grip on your thighs were firm as he kept them pressed against his chest. His body was pressed against yours as his lips attacked your neck. He was so strong and confident and the feeling of being lifted up and fucked like a toy was making you weak in the knees.

The feeling of his cock inside you was too much, and your mouth hung open in ecstasy as he fucked you, making your body shake. He grunted and moaned, his hot breath brushing against your ear, making you shiver.

His eyes stared into yours, his brown orbs full of lust as he kept you up with ease, holding you against the wall. You could feel the strength in his arms as he did so.

“I could hear this dirty girl’s sounds all the way from the hallway… She loves getting her holes drilled with cock, hm?” The door closed behind Seokjin before it was locked.

You couldn't reply, you just moaned, your body trembling as his large cock continued to pound into you. He laughed, throwing his head back, his dark hair falling past his ears.

His lips moved to your chest, his mouth taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. Your moans turned into squeals of pleasure, your body shaking more as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

You could see the other boys through your hazy vision, watching as Seokjin and Jimin made you moan. Yoongi and Hoseok were resting on one of the benches, while Taehyung stood next to you and wrapped your fingers around his cock, while Jungkook watched the sight. Namjoon stood there with crossed arms, proud of how hard Jimin was fucking you.

Jimin groaned as he pumped his cock inside you, the sound of your wetness filling the locker room. His eyes met yours as his hands moved to your ass, lifting you up some more, and you let out a squeal of surprise as he began to slam into you.

Your tits bounced in the air, and your hand tightened around Taehyung's cock, making him moan and lean closer. His eyes were glued to your face as you gasped and moaned, looking into his eyes.

“Fuck…” Jimin cussed, making you bounce on his cock harder as his body started to shake. You felt him begin to throb inside you and he came with a low grunt, pumping you full. He groaned as he filled your pussy, and you shuddered as he came.

His hips rocked back and forth, dragging his dick in your pussy, and you whimpered as you felt him paint your walls white.

“Do you want her?” Jimin asked.

“Yes.” Taehyung grinned.

The two grabbed you, pulling you from the wall and carrying you together as they placed you on the bench. They pulled your thighs open, and Taehyung smirked, moving between them as he spread your lips open, exposing your sensitive clit.

He wrapped his lips around it and you shuddered, the sensation making your body feel hot. His tongue played with it, his lips moving against it, sucking on it and flicking it.

You whimpered, and his eyes were locked onto yours as his hands held your thighs. His eyes were full of lust, his hands warm and firm on your body. His mouth worked its magic on you, his tongue swirling around your clit and lips, his tongue fucking into your cunt. Your eyes met with Namjoon's as he held his cock in his hand. He moved closer and pushed the tip against your lips, and you gladly accepted it.

You moaned around the thick member, sucking on it and licking it, swirling your tongue around the head. You pulled away, leaving out a gasp when you felt Taehyung pushing himself into you. You looked down at him, his cock entering your cunt and he let out a low groan.

A yelp escaped from your lips as Namjoon grabbed onto your hair and turned you back to his cock. He pushed into your mouth and began to thrust, his hips rocking back and forth. You whined, the pleasure making you dizzy.

The two fucked you at the same time, filling you with cock, their hips rocking back and forth. They moved in sync, one pulling out only to thrust back in, both of them fucking into you with ease.

Your body was too tired to move, your muscles weak as the two boys took turns fucking you. Your pussy felt hot and used, and your body was trembling, your orgasm close as your thighs quivered and your breathing was shaky.

You couldn't think straight, you could barely speak. Namjoon grabbed ahold of your jaw, his hand gripping you, keeping your face in place as his thrust became more rapid.

“Such a good girl.” Namjoon praised you, unable to keep his eyes off you.

He had seen many girls in this state, but none of them ever looked this good. He had never wanted a girl more than you in that moment, your mouth full of his cock and your eyes hazy.

You were a sight to behold. Your hair messy and sweaty, your makeup running down your cheeks and neck, your lips swollen and your nipples red from their sucking. You were like an angel, a mess of a goddess.

You felt a hand rubbing circles on your clit and you let out a moan. It was Seokjin, his fingers quick and his other hand squeezing your breast.

“You are gonna make me cum, fuck.” He cussed under his breath, his voice a little strained. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, his movements becoming erratic and quick. He grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock, guiding it to pump him. He moaned as his head hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Then, Namjoon pulled out, cum shooting over your face, some spilling on your chest.

“You need to try this pussy, it’s so fucking good. I promise you.” Taehyung spread your legs further. “Such a sweet tight pussy.” He panted, his tongue hanging over his bottom lip.

“Yeah? How about you prove it to me that that pussy’s sweet, y/n?” Seokjin challenged.

Taehyung pulled himself out of you, before gripping onto your wrist and pulling you up.

The room felt hot, your breath quick and heavy, your thighs trembling as you were guided to his lap, your back resting against his chest. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up, his cock aligning with your entrance and he began to push into you. You whimpered as you sat down, the feeling of his cock inside you making your knees weak.

Seokjin held onto your legs, holding them open as he leaned over to taste you, his tongue entering your folds as he moaned at the taste. You shuddered, your body shaking at the two sensations at your body.

“Look at that.” Seokjin hummed in approval. “That pussy really does take cock like a pro, huh?” He licked his lips and turned to you. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, your body unable to keep still.

Seokjin took his cock in his hand, pushing against your folds, groaning at the friction of Taehyung’s cock against his as he pushed himself into you. You whimpered as your pussy stretched around him and his head was finally in, making your back arch and your head fall back against Taehyung's shoulder.

The three of you moved as one, all of you thrusting at different speeds, but your hips moving in unison.

Your mouth hung open as you moaned, a high pitched whine escaping your lips, your eyes closing as the pleasure became too much. Seokjin and Taehyung pounded you together, the two cocks fucking into you at an angle that made you feel so full, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm built up inside you.

“You love that, babygirl?” Taehyung asked, his hands traveling to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your shoulder, biting and sucking the flesh, marking you as his.

“O-oh!” You whimpered, their cocks stretching your pussy. Seokjin placed your legs over his shoulders, his eyes focused on where his cock disappeared into you. You watched him too, the sight making your legs quake as your orgasm crept closer.

Taehyung began to move faster, and his hips rocked back and forth, slamming into you with more force than before. You were moaning at the speed he set, your eyes rolling back into your head as they fucked into you. You could feel your pussy quivering and clenching around their cocks, making you shudder. Your mind felt fuzzy, and your orgasm hit you hard, making your body spasm as they both kept you steady. You could feel their hot breath on you, their hands keeping you in place as they continued to pound you, prolonging your orgasm.

Your legs fell and you could feel their cocks pressing into each other inside you, your pussy gripping around them tightly. Their moans filled your ears as they came together, their cum mixing inside you.

You panted, unable to move as you felt them cum inside you, their hot cum dripping down your thighs as they pulled out.

They pulled you from Taehyung’s and you sat on the floor, still feeling dazed. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath as you watched the boys get dressed.

“Let’s go before someone gets suspicious.” Namjoon called, before throwing a towel and your clothes your way.

Your body was tired, but you somehow managed to get up and pull your clothes on, wiping yourself up with the towel before pulling your hair back. You then walked out of the locker room with the boys, all of them dressed as if they had been training. And no one found out about your dirty little secret.

[vinvantae]

heyyy! sorry if this request is vague but i lack your creative genius so how about the grid x reader with forced proximity (like the two being in a situation where they have to be really close outside of their respective wishes not noncon!). if not all drivers, then maybe just Charles, Lewis and Fernando? thanks love!

I am sooooooo sorry this took so long 😭 I’ve been mega busy lately and haven’t had the time to really sit down and write. Hope you enjoy regardless x

Lewis

“There’s no way this is actually happening right now.”

You stared down at the door handle that was currently laying in your palm, no longer attached to the door. Lewis quirked a brow and plucked it from your hand, turning it over in his a few times.

“I did tell them it was coming loose, didn’t realise it was this close to falling off.” He chuckled softly. “Cosy in here isn’t it?”

The room itself wasn’t that small, but now you had no escape - the walls suddenly felt like they were pressing against you. “Why do we even have this room?”

“I think Bono called it a panic room… apparently, just our luck, it’s also soundproof.”

You groaned and flopped onto the small loveseat that was tucked against the wall - letting your eyes cast around the room. “Have you-“

“Text someone? Yeah. They’re trying to find a way in.” His voice was soft as he sat beside you, a strong hand coming to rest on your knee - the heat immoderately rushing to your cheeks.

You’d had a massive crush on Lewis since the day you’d met - but he was levels and levels above you at Mercedes. You were but a simple social media admin, something he personally opted to not take part in very often so your paths didn’t cross often and when they did you found yourself feeling like a giggly teenager.

You could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he studied you, a gentle sigh leaving his lips.

“…hey uh, feel free to report me to HR if this crosses some major boundary but I never really get to speak to you alone.” He was fully facing you now, his hand still pressed against your knee - thumb brushing across the black fabric of your work trousers. “You fancy getting dinner sometime or something? I’ve seen you around a lot and I just… I honestly can’t get you out of my head.”

“M-Me? Seriously?” You laughed, practically flooded with disbelief. “You’re Lewis Hamilton.”

He smirked. “Yeah, and you’re you… I’d really like to get to know you outside of this world, no Mercedes branding attached. I already like what I do know, I’d like to see more.”

Your eyes flickered across his face for a moment, trying to read him - and he seemed nothing but genuine. You gave him a cautious nod and his face lit up, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“We’re going to have a blast, trust me.” His grin lit up the room.

Before you could speak again there was a frantic knock on the door. “We’re about to take the hinges off! Stand back please!”

“All clear.” Lewis called back, before giving your hand a squeeze. “Ready to get back out there?”

You looked down at your entwined hands and smiled softly. “As I’ll ever be.”

Charles

Their music was quiet now, just softly playing in the background as Kika giggled - her boyfriend twirling her into his arms, a loving smile on his face. When she had insisted on hosting his birthday party at your shared apartment, you forgot to consider who one of Pierre’s best friends was, a man you loathed. And now, as the night rolled on and all of the other guests had filtered out - it was just the four of you left and whilst Pierre and Kika were still enjoying their tipsy states, you and Charles were as stiff as boards, sat as far apart from each other as possible.

Your eyes followed Kika as she stepped away from Pierre, circling the coffee table to approach you, manicured hands landing on your shoulders as she looked into your eyes. “We’re going to bed… you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You forced a smile, one she was too inebriated to decipher. “I’m not tired, I’ll tidy up a bit.”

“Oh ‘miga. Don’t stay up too late.” She pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple before leading Pierre away, practically purring.

You rolled your eyes, still not giving the man beside you any attention as you stood up - collecting some cups from the table but as he started clearing the coffee table beside you, you couldn’t help but frown.

“You can go home, Charles.” You grumbled. “You don’t live here, y’know. It’s my mess to clear up.”

“Did Pierre not tell you?” He patted the back of the sofa. “This bad boy is my bed tonight.”

“…he did not. Well, I don’t want to keep you up, so I’ll clean tomorrow or something.”

He practically snorted out a laugh. “I don’t want to sleep in this mess either so, let’s just make it quick yeah?”

The two of you moved around each other quietly - you’d met through your best friends and very quickly decided that you didn’t get on. He was pretty and he knew it - he always had some stunning girl draped over his arm; at first you were just annoyed, just as you got to know her, like her even, he’d bin her off for a new model. He just didn’t know the meaning of the word loyalty.

“You uh, still with… uh Colette was it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “She wanted something more serious, so no,”

Charles watched you roll your eyes as you shoved a paper cup into the bin bag in your hand.

“What’s it to you anyway? Jealous?” He smirked, throwing a balled up napkin in your direction.

“No. I just don’t understand why you hate commitment so much.” You scoffed. “You always find the loveliest girls and then-“

“I don’t hate commitment. I’ve just not found a girl who challenges me.” His voice was quieter with his admission. “They all will literally just agree with everything and anything I say just because they’re desperate to keep me happy… that’s just not… I don’t want that.”

The silence was heavy but you didn’t dare move, especially as he walked around the coffee table towards you - bin bags long forgotten as he gently took your biceps in his hands.

“I… I know you don’t like me… I don’t blame you.” He sighed softly, letting his hands slowly cascade down your arms until his hands finally found yours, his lips curving into a shy smile when you didn’t pull away. “But I like the way you call me out on my shit, and you make me want to be better.”

“Charles…” You felt breathless. “I don’t want to be the reason you treat women right, you should do that because it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” A soft huff escaped him. “Can we at least maybe start over? Friends?”

Your eyes studied his face - almost as if you were seeing him for the very first time. The way his green eyes still seemed bright under the dim lights of the floor lamps, the way his lips were such a pretty shade of pink… shit.

“Depends… would friends do this?”

Charles stumbled back a little as you kissed him, hands quickly finding purchase on your hips. He groaned as you looped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

Oh he was fucked.

Fernando

You don’t think you could be pressed any further against the side of the van if you tried - Fernando’s manspreading had made sure of that. The two of you had somehow ended up in the back together, the third seat home to camera equipment as per the team’s request. It was supposed to be a quick trip, 20 minutes tops, but the roads were completely gridlocked so you found yourself stuck in the Spaniard’s company for a lot longer than you’d planned.

“Oh my god, Fernando.” You hissed, yanking the hem of your jacket out from under his thigh as he shifted. “Do you want to take up any more of my seat?”

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a small smirk. “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes. “No you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

A soft huff left your lips, turning away from him to look out the window - noticing the view hadn’t shifted even a little since you last checked. You groaned. “Have we moved at all?”

“Sorry! It’s completely at a standstill, looks like it’s going to be a while!” The driver called back from the front, sending you an apologetic gaze through the rear view mirror.

Fernando couldn’t help but notice your demeanour shift, fully slumped in your seat at this point - a petulant frown on your face. He always thought you were pretty, but you seemed to have a vendetta against him since day one despite his best intentions. And after a while he just gave him, treating you with the same sass you threw at him.

“Do you want to lighten up a touch, cariño” He teased, leaning a little so he could catch your eye. “This car ride is already going to be bad enough without your attitude.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not exactly my favourite person to be around.”

“And why is that? Hmm?” His voice was patronising, condescending almost, and it made you want to smack him upside the head - but you’d definitely get fired. “Did I forget your birthday or something?”

He was surprised by the dejected sigh that left your lips, your eyes almost wet when you looked up at him. “…You’ve just always made me feel like a dumb kid. I know how to do my job. I’m smart, I’m capable. I’m not even that young! But god forbid I do anything myself. Let me move that for you. I’ve got that. Oh no, I’ll do it myself.”

“You think I did all that because I thought you were incapable?” He had to hold back the laugh of disbelief. “Cariño , that was just me being a gentleman… I was trying to be courteous, to impress you.”

Your cheeks heated. “Impress me?”

“Well, yeah.” This time he laughed softly. “You said it yourself, you’re smart, you’re capable… and, forgive me, you’re very beautiful. I never meant to cause upset or make you think I thought little of you.”

You felt beyond embarrassed - this whole time he was just being nice and you had automatically assumed he was looking down on you.

“…want to start over?” Your voice timid, unable to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I’d like that.” He held his hand out. “Hi, I’m Fernando.”

It was your turn to laugh as you took his hand in yours, his skin warm against yours as you gave it a firm shake - introducing yourself to him. His gaze was different as he looked at you now, his dark eyes no longer full of distaste but something new.

And you couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

[icallhimjoey]

i really loved the magic of joe hanging out in the bookstore, being his anonymous little self, just reading a book in his armchair, happy to be allowed a warm beverage...................... can we have more of him?

jfc stab me where im softest, why dont you Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Little Spoon Reversed

"Please, before you leave," you spoke to Anne who slung an arm into her jean jacket. "Never forget your headphones ever again, please?"

You couldn't finish the question without laughing already. It earned an eye roll from Anne, who then turned to Joe who was sat in his armchair, book in his lap, but eyes on the two of you.

For a short moment Anne gave Joe a look as if to say, this bitch, am I right? But then before she fully committed, she remembered that Joe would likely take your side on this, like he would take your side on... well, anything, basically.

"I'm aware you don't enjoy... people, but–"

"If I can follow your whole conversation about how you enjoy being a little spoon over being a big spoon, you're talking too loud to be allowed on public transport." Anne stated matter of factly.

She stared into space a second and the shuddered. Joe gave you a look of wild concern, smile playing just underneath, and you laughed.

Anne was being Anne and you loved her, and Joe was being Joe and... well.

You liked Joe.

Joe was funny.

Joe made you laugh.

And Joe looked nice. Sat there.

He looked nice sitting there, in your bookstore.

He just... he did.

All soft.

Hair unstyled. Clothes mismatched. Blue of his denim jacket somehow doing something for the colour of his skin.

Nice. Joe looked nice.

The look of him kind of completed the room just by sitting his ass down in your granddad's armchair. You'd make him a coffee in a second. Keep him there for longer.

When Anne turned to look at him, he immediately dropped the facial expression and just gave her a tiny nod. Dryly said, "Nice jacket." which made her notice how they were both wearing a similar one.

Anne scrunched her nose to that, absolutely grossed out by it.

Joe gave you a small smirk that Anne pretended she didn't catch.

"Headphones!" you made big eyes at her, and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand as she turned to leave the store.

Anne's neutral was already negative to begin with, but when she'd walked in that morning, she'd basically carried thunder in her aura and you'd had to stick her in the back to do admin because she couldn't stop going on about her bad morning.

You couldn't take it too seriously though; the reason her morning had been bad was because she had to listen to people talk on a bus.

She was fine.

But Anne was Anne, and after a very ranty first thirty minutes of her shift, throughout the rest of day she would have moments where she'd suddenly shudder, grimace and mutter "Little spoon," under her breath, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd ever heard people talk about in public.

Intimacy? Vile.

You and Joe shared knowing smiles, and Anne already had one foot out the door when Joe called her back.

"Hey, Anne?"

She paused, barely turned her head, and waited for Joe to talk.

"Which one are you?"

Joe saw her frown in confusion, which only made his smirk grow. He was about to piss her off so bad.

"Big spoon or little spoon?"

He was right. You barked a loud laugh as Anne raised her middle finger up at him before the door shut behind her.

"She's so lovely." Joe smiled, and that only made you laugh more as you found your spot behind the counter.

You were never going to tire of how bitchy Joe and Anne could be to each other, all bark no bite.

"She really is." you agreed, laughter turning into a sigh, eyes falling onto clutter left beside the till.

You had work to do; there were piles of books that needed to find their way onto display tables and up onto shelves.

Your eyes flickered from work to Joe, and you noticed he was still looking at you. Sort of dopily staring, still grinning. You liked that denim jacket on him.

Joe looked good.

"What are you reading?"

Joe's eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he fully registered that you'd asked him a question.

"Oh!" he seemed startled by the book in his lap, like he'd forgotten his hands had been holding onto it for the brief moment of distraction. He lifted it up to show you the cover.

You knew what he was reading already, but any excuse for some small talk whilst you sorted through some paperbacks.

"Do you like it?"

"Yea, actually... it's good, it's– it's... relatable? Even though it's not, because none of these things have ever happened to me, but, you know what I mean? Like, I–, I don't know, I get it, I guess... it's... it's just, it's interesting."

Joe stumbled through finding the right words to tell you that, simply, the writing was good, and it made you purse a smile as you sorted through some novels.

"That's good," you stuck a pile of books under an arm. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yea," Joe said, eyes on a page that he then turned, scanning his eyes over the words, but not reading any of them. He was glad he liked it too, but even if the book hadn't been as enjoyable to read as this one was, he still would've enjoyed his time there just the same. It was never about the books for him.

Which was why it was so easy to put it down when he saw you getting ready to climb up a ladder with an armful of them.

He didn't even have to say anything.

Just put his book down on the small sidetable, got up and walked over, hands already held out to take the pile of books from you.

"Sorry," you said, like this was an inconvenience to Joe.

It wasn't.

Joe got to be close to you, fingertips grazing the skin of your arm as he helped you out. Got your hands free so you could actually hold onto the ladder. Safety first.

"I should've maybe done this whilst Anne was still in."

And then he got a close look at your ass as you ascended the ladder just next to him, which wasn't his fault, mind you. You literally hauled it up right into his line of sight.

It had never been about the books for him.

"Are these new ones?" Joe turned his head to read the title of the book on top of the pile before picking it up and handing it to your awaiting open palm.

"No, just ones people take down to have a look at and then leave around. Thanks."

Joe did that a lot.

"Sorry." he said jokingly, taking all blame for the mess.

That made you laugh.

"That's okay. Part of running a bookstore."

It was quiet then for a moment. Just Joe handing you books that you put back into their places. When he passed you the last one, you were about to climb down, but Joe decided he could help for a little longer.

"These ones too?" he rounded the counter like he wasn't allowed to step behind it and pointed at another stack of them.

"Yea," you smiled. "Thanks."

You'd gone well past feeling uncomfortable for accepting a little bit of Joe's help. Joe knew his place when Anne was in, or when there were other customers browsing, but when it was just the two of you inside these shelf-cladded walls, Joe could lend a hand.

You'd tell yourself it was just Joe being nice because you gave him a lot of free coffee.

Joe knew better.

"So, what about you?"

"Hmm?"

You looked down from your spot up on the ladder, and saw how Joe read the title of the book he was about to give you before he outstretched his arm and made eye-contact.

"Big spoon or little spoon?"

Your fingers grazed as you took the book from him and you nearly let a smile escape you, but Joe wasn't smiling and dressed it as casual, but serious question. Like he genuinely wanted to know.

"Um," you pretended to give it a good think. "I'll go for... little spoon I guess."

It helped that you got to faff around with a bunch of paperbacks on a shelf and didn't have to look him in the eye when you asked, "You?"

"Oh," Joe said, frowning like the answer was obvious. "I'm a big fan of both."

This was information that you couldn't Google.

You kind of loved it.

"Yea?"

Another book got passed.

"Oh yea, sometimes, you want to cuddle someone. Other times you want to be cuddled, you know?"

If Anne had still been in, she'd have made a request for someone to shoot her by now.

"Well," you started, feeling brave. "Can I introduce you to," you paused for effect. "Little spoon reversed?"

You were about to reach down for the book Joe was holding up, but he slowly lowered it, staring up at you with big bulging eyes.

"Little spoon what?"

"Reversed." you easily said, smiling and taking a step down to grab the book from Joe's hands.

"Please elaborate." Joe acted like you'd just told him the most shocking piece of information ever.

"It's all in the word. It's being the little spoon," you held up two cupped hands, one turned so the back rested in the other's palm and then turned one, so your palms faced each other. "But reversed."

Joe looked a little mesmerized.

You shrugged and dropped your hands. "Best of both worlds."

"Best of both worlds..." Joe repeated. "Huh."

"You get to hug and be hugged," you said, holding a hand open for another book.

Joe stared into space as he passed it. Thinking.

"Kind of... equal spoons, then," he mused.

"Well, no. Not exactly. There's still a big spoon and a little spoon."

You glanced down and smiled at how Joe seemed to be honestly interested, not at all making fun or being silly about this topic. He was learning.

"Please, elaborate."

"The little spoon is whoever gets to press their face into the neck of the other. Of the big spoon."

Joe's knees nearly gave out at that. It was a crime how casually you'd just said that.

"Yea... no, yea." Joe cleared his throat. "That makes sense."

The bell above the door rang, and you both turned your heads like you'd just been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing. Which was exactly right. Joe didn't work there, you had no business having him help you out like this.

"Good afternoon!" you cheerily exclaimed at the customer that had just walked in, and accepted the last book from Joe's hands.

Joe felt a little silly with how he felt his neck flush at the thought of having you in his bed to cuddle up with. Have your face pressed into the crook of his neck. Or, worse - have his face pressed right into yours.

God.

He was fantasizing about cuddling, getting all hot and bothered.

Was he fourteen years old?

You gave the shelf in front of you a last look before making your way back to the floorboards, ladder held sturdy in place by Joe's hands, and when you were back at eye level, you gave Joe a nod and a smile.

"So...? If you had to choose one?"

Joe tried to hide a smile and looked at his feet for a moment.

"Big spoon or little spooon?"

"I think you've sold me on little spoon reversed."

"Yea?"

"Best of both worlds." Joe said proudly, like he was the one who'd drawn that conclusion himself.

"Hmm. It's a good choice."

"Yea?"

"Yea."

You looked at each other a moment too long, both still with hands on the ladder you were stood next to. In a true moment of weakness, you let your eyes flick down to his neck. To the skin in between the collar of his jacket and, yea all right, so you were imagining it. Like that was your fault. How could you not, exactly?

You saw Joe's throat work as he swallowed, and when your eyes moved back up to meet his, something had changed there.

Maybe Joe shouldn't wear that jacket again, because you felt how your body wanted to sway forward.

Little spoon reversed.

A loud scraping of someone's throat broke the spell.

"Excuse me, um, do you work here?"

Joe smirked just before you pulled your eyes away from him.

Little spoon reversed.

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[harlowhockeystick]

9 and 18 with coach!sid please <3

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin?" & "i can tell when someone wants me" | poetic prompts | warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, i can redo if you don't want smut with these prompts!)

takes place after this fic.

"girl, quit eye fucking and leave some room for the rest of us. i can tell your fantasizing, but i don't blame you."

"i'm not touching him, so how can i be guilty of anything?" y/n co-workers words snap her out of her daze as she teases back. it was the beginning of an emergency staff meeting, the meaning was unknown and it was causing quite the buzz around the gymnasium. teachers, admin, and athletic staff alike were sitting together asking each other what they'd heard, known, or if they were getting fired. there was a heavy level of anxiety sitting in the room amongst them.

"sorry," y/n mumbled and sitting up straight. her friend chuckled beside her. but she couldn't help but stare, it had been a week since their dinner together, and it was all she could think about. she'd had trouble teaching, would zone out when talking to carter, their scandalous encounter was taking over her life.

"what do you think they're gonna talk about?" the other teacher asked sitting next to her, sipping coffee out of her tumbler and scrolling through emails looking for clues. "i think they're gonna talk about staff relationships."

her words made y/n's stomach drop. did it get out? did someone see her car at his house? did carter say something? did carter find out? it's amazing how many questions can run through the brain in just two seconds.

"i heard that the boys tennis coach, thomas, is having an affair with the girls tennis coach. i think one of the players caught them in the athletic offices but they did something to keep the kid quiet." y/n feels her nerves calm down, but not all that much. her eyes met with sidney's and she felt like he was trying to silently tell her something but she couldn't pick up on it. they weren't that connected.

yet.

moments later the superintendent gets on the mic and announces to faculty that in fact, both the girls and boys tennis coach were let go due to their actions. the boys coach resigned, and the girls coach was fired due to threatening the school district since she didn't do anything wrong and she was a single woman.

she felt a ball coil up inside her stomach as the staff were reminded of the policy: relationships among staff must be brought before the board if they occur within the school year. it was a district policy, to keep drama out of the way, and to keep relationships private to the parties benefit. at least, that was the way it was explained.

-

that meeting was bullshit. sent 10:45 am

y/n's phone pings signaling a text from sidney. she reads it as her students are taking their test. she feels butterflies and anxiety at the same time. her leg bouncing underneath her desk as she plans a reply.

...but what did he mean? was he against the rule, meaning he wanted a relationship? or was it just a waste of time? yes, it was a waste of time.

i know, it could have just been an email. sent 10:48

he never responds, but she gets too busy with other class periods. she gets lost back in time once more, fantasizing about that night. during lunch break spent in her darkened classroom, a bowl of warmed up soup in front of her as she grades papers until the next class comes through.

but she gets lost, in the deep trance of the memory of him. if she thinks really hard she can still feel his tongue sliding against her slick core, she can feel herself coming undone again at the force of his skilled and talented body.

she can feel his calloused but soft hands sliding down her body, grasping at her breasts while he sucks all of the sweet juice that flows out of her. she remembers her back arching off his wooden dinner table while he lapped at her for at least ten minutes straight, before he slid his thick cock inside of her for another ten.

she's taken out of her daydream by the sound of the school bell. she has three minutes to get herself back in order to teach again. she considers assigning today a reading and catch up day...so she can continue to reminisce.

dinner at my place? sent 1:23 pm

hell yes sent 1:24 pm

-

"you're bad at hiding your feelings, y/n." sidney stated, flipping over the steak on the grill and setting his wine glass down on the granite countertop. y/n sat on the barstool across from him, drinking a cocktail she made herself.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she took a bigger swig of the alcohol this time, holding eye contact with him as he leaned onto the countertop with his hands, making himself appear bigger in front of her. it worked.

"i can tell when someone wants me. half the women in that school want me, but you're the only one who went for it." she feels like a crook who was caught. "i know you act like last week didn't happen, but it's all i've been thinking about." now he's standing just inches from her on his back patio, the smell of grilled steak and vegetables filling her brain and the firm but agonizing touch making her go weak.

"it's all i can think about too." his thumb glides across her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes staring into her soul, what it feels like for hours. he bites his lip and she thinks she's gonna pass out.

"tell me what you thought about, maybe we'll reenact it after dinner. can't have you eating cold steak, can i?"

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls || I want Daddy

WC: 1.2K

Driver!oc x Max Verstappen

REQUEST: HERE

AN/ This doesn’t follow the timeline, more like a side one shot.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Another week another race and as it usually is with the European races Nattie is in attendance. She has taken to being in the garage where some family members are attending. If it's Max’s family she's in the RedBull garage, if it's one of Cecilia's she's in the Merc garage. The girl always has a merch item of the team she's in the garage for, admins of both teams have taken to fighting for her on social media calling her theirs. But if you ask Nattie what team she likes most she'd say Ferrari, all thanks to Charles. The monegasque is one of the couple's closest friends and for some reason he has such an effect on their daughter, Max has been trying for her to say RedBull for a long time but she's refusing. She's seen her parents train and drive. It's normal for her but Charles is just magical to her, as if he’s doing something completely different to them.

Anyways Cecilia had to DNF due to a mechanical failure early in the race, she had finished her media duties and was back in the garage watching the rest of the race, after she dropped into RedBull to get her daughter from Victoria, the cameras made sure to capture the moment and so with her RedBull merch on Nattie watched the rest of the race from Mercedes.

There's a moment at the end of the race where Max and another driver come in contact with each other and everyone is holding their breath as their eyes stay on the screens watching. Max’s car spins around but he doesn't hit any walls, there's a bit of damage to his front wing but he swirls the car around and continues with the race. Cecilia could only imagine what his radio was sounding like at this moment.

“Maman!” Nattie calls for her mother, she has her headphones on looking super cute, but her eyes are wide and starting to tear up.

Cecilia is alarmed, afraid that something might have happened while she was focusing on the screen.

“What is it, mon ange?” She's checking her daughter for any sign of harm.

“Daddy?” She asks, her lips trembling as she points at the screen.

“Oh baby, daddy's okay,he's fine.” Cecilia says and sees Max crossing the finish line coming P2.

“Look, he even made it to the podium.” Cecilia tries to calm her daughter but Nattie seems startled, tears start leaving her eyes. Cecilia sighs and takes her daughter in her arms. Admittedly Nattie is starting to be too large for her to keep carrying her and she's thankful for all the training she goes through because it kept her carrying her daughter comfortably. Cilia takes Nattie to her driver room and tries to calm her down but it seems like there's no stopping her. 10 minutes later when she's still crying Cecilia makes the executive decision to go ask Victoria for help. So she makes it to RedBull, she's led to Victoria by a RedBull personal, always making sure she's not walking around the garage and stealing ideas and data. Once Victoria sees her niece crying she makes her way to the blondes.

“What happened?” Victoria asks the mother.

“She’s been crying since Max took that turn.” Victoria tries to calm the girl down but to no avail, Checo's wife was walking around when she saw them struggling and tried to calm the girl but he also failed, it became a thing where everyone tried to do their own thing but Nattie wouldn't stop. Cecilia was admittedly getting frustrated.

“I don't think she'll calm down before she sees Max.” Victoria says and Cecilia couldn't help but agree. Nattie has been saying daddy over and over again.

“Is Max doing his post interview yet?” Cecilia asks one of the females standing around her, she worked for the press team for RB. When she told the driver no, Cecilia left the garage and made her way to where the post interview for the podium finishers took place.

They were about to start, Max with his super dad hearing heard the wailing of his little girl and the smile he had on his face dropped and his face snapped to where the sound was coming from. His eyes fell on a tired and frustrated looking girlfriend, and his daughter. A lot of eyes went to the female walking in, she was already showered and in her team kit since her earlier DNF. Nattie had refused to be carried now and was throwing a tantrum along with her crying. Once she sees Max though on stage she runs up to him. Max instantly gets up from his spot and scoops her up. He angles himself so no one could see her. Cecilia makes it on stage apologising for crashing the interview real quick before she walks up to Max.

“She's been crying thinking you're hurt after that little thing in the last lap, wouldn't stop.” Cecilia stressed. “I'm sorry Max.”

“It's okay, you go, I'll take care of her.” Max comforts his frustrated girlfriend and she leaves the stage but stays close by just out of sight in case she's needed.

Max sits down with Nattie in his lap. Once again he apologises for the interruption and asks Lewis who was answering a question to go on. Lewis does continue but all eyes were still on Max and the now calmer girl.

“It's okay schatje, daddy is okay.” Max whispers in her ear, his hand rubbing up and down her back in comfort. “Nothing happened to me, I'm okay.”

It takes a few moments but Nathalie calms down, but as she calmed down, her energy also calmed down and seemed to seep away from her. Her red and puffy eyes are struggling to stay open, with Max's arms rubbing her back and her comfortably sitting on hir lap she falls asleep, she doesn't wake up when Max takes the microphone to speak or when everyone laughs at her soft snores being picked up through the microphone.

Little Nathalie just wanted to make sure that her dad is okay. Cecilia felt a hand on her shoulder, when she turned she saw Lando, he saw his friend on screen after he did the media pit and felt bad for the mother, just with the little clip shown she looked tired.

”Let’s go, Max got her.” Lando said, pulling her away from the wall she was leaning on.

”But-“

”No buts come on.” It didn’t take long for Cecilia to concede and follow the brit, Lando had arm around her shoulder as they walked around, there were some fans around but they left the drivers alone, thankfully. as they’re walking they see a screen showing the interviews happening right now. “She’s so cute.”

”Yeah, but man can she cry, almost piercing my eardrum.” Cecilia complained but watched with a smile, Max was running a hand through her hair, and if you weren’t seeing him you wouldn't know that he had a sleeping girl on his lap.

“Max is such a girl’s dad.” Lando comments with a grin, Cecilia laughs but couldn’t agree more.

“And Nattie is such a daddy’s girl these days.” Cecilia says with a roll of her eyes.

”From what I’m hearing she’s a Charles girl.” Cecilia again laughs and nods with Lando. “Which I’m hurt about.”

”Get in line, she wants to be in Ferrari each week, Max almost had a heart attack when he heard her the first time.”

”Well, everyone’s a Ferrari fan.”

“I guess so.”

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 16

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Deep inhale, deeper exhale* Okay. You ready? 

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Blood and peril, violence, angst, and yet another cliffhanger. (Last one, I promise!) 

Part 16: Soldier Boy

You fled with Jon, Frank, and Loco to escape the bowels of Vought Tower. 

You all were lucky that the Security & Surveillance room hadn’t been caught in the blast, but on the monitors you had seen it carve through the center of the building like a beam of light. 

You could freak out about that later though. Now you were in flight mode, just trying to survive and evade falling debris and unsteady ground. 

Frank kicked through a locked door on the way to the nearest stairwell. You and Jon made it through, but a huge chunk of debris fell, cutting Loco off from the rest of you. 

You gasped and went to the doorway, trying to see if you could help push it out of the way. But more of the ceiling was still falling and threatened to crush you. Frank pulled you back, even though you knew he was worried too.

“Just go!” Loco said. “I’ll find another way out.”

“Head east,” Jon said. “There’s another stairwell by Human Resources.”

“Vought HR. What a fucking joke,” you couldn’t help but quip. But after Loco took off, you grabbed Frank’s arm and headed down the hall. You could see the “EXIT” sign up ahead. It led to a gray door, where several people were fleeing down the stairs. 

Including Dr. Tonya Baker and three of her guards. 

You and Frank stopped her before the door with your guns raised. Frank killed each guard with precision, while you kept your gun aimed on the good doctor. She raised her hand in wide-eyed surrender, but her other hand held a briefcase. You gestured to it with your gun.

“What’s that? Open it up,” you said. When the doctor hesitated, you pointed the gun back in her face. “Now.”

Gritting her teeth, she obliged you by entering the code that would unlock the briefcase. Jon took it from her and showed you its contents.

There were several files and blue vials of what you assumed were Compound V. However, you noticed three small white containers that weren’t like the rest. They were labeled: Soldier Boy. 

“What are these?” you asked. Dr. Baker was tight-lipped, until you pressed the gun between her eyes. 

“DNA samples,” she answered reluctantly. Your face fell, then hardened into a glare. 

“Well, fuck that,” you said.

With your gun trained on the doctor, you grabbed a glass container and smashed it to the ground, making her flinch. Stale-smelling yellow liquid splattered on the floor, and you realized then what kind of “sample” it must’ve been. Jon grimaced; some of it had splashed onto his shoes.

“Thank you,” he groused. 

“Oh, I’m not done,” you said. And you did the same to the last two containers. You took the briefcase from your father and gave it to Frank. “Take this and Madam Fritz here to the S.A.”

“What are you about to do?” Frank asked, though he took the briefcase from you (and laid a firm hand on Dr. Baker’s shoulder). “I don’t like that damn look in your eye.”

You turned to the scientist. “Did you see anyone else still in the building?”

“A few,” she admitted. “Mostly in the lower floors. Admin, Customer Service, R&D.”

Your eyes flew wide in alarm. Yvette, your friend who worked in Customer Service. She could be trapped down there…

Jon turned to you with a frown. “The only way they’re getting out is when the Fire Department comes to collect the bodies.”

You glared back and raised your gun at him next. 

“Guess who’s going to help me get them out?” You glanced at Frank, who didn’t look pleased. “Don’t make that face. I’ll be fine.”

“The tower’s literally falling apart as we speak!” Jon exclaimed. He tried to push your gun away from his face, but you held it aloft. 

“Move your ass or catch a bullet,” you snapped. “We’re going to Customer Service first.”

Ben continued to fight Black Noir.

He still wanted to cave in Stan Edgar’s skull, and it had the added benefit of giving Butcher and his team the cover they needed to try and escape the tower. That wasn’t in his mind though. He was focused on his two targets. 

He’d grabbed a discarded gun from the floor when he’d gotten back up to his feet. He now used it to shoot Stan in the leg, to stop him from fleeing. The man cried out and went down hard on the newly installed tile. 

Ben raised the gun again to shoot him between the eyes, but Noir stopped him. He grabbed Ben’s arm and hurled him over his shoulder. He landed in the broken shambles of Stan’s desk, and the impact further destabilized the top floor of the building. 

Parts of the ceiling had already begun to break off, and Stan noticed. He tried to drag himself towards the door while Soldier Boy was distracted. Blood trailed after his bleeding leg, but he was determined, fighting for his life. 

In fact, he almost made it. 

But just when he was a mere three feet from the door, a massive panel of the ceiling (along with a silver light fixture), crashed down over him. If the concrete hadn’t crushed his bones, the ceiling light would’ve impaled him—right through his chest. 

Ben watched the scene from where he half-lay on the ground in the rubble. His eyes marginally widened, but then his mouth quirked in satisfaction. One down…

His hand closed over a metal rod, yanking it from a piece of rock and wood, and he got to his feet. When Noir flew at him again, Ben lodged the metal rod deep into his exposed ear. If it had worked for Maeve on Homelander, he’d figured it could work on Noir.

And it did. The supe remained mute, expressionless, but the projectile lodged into his ear canal still made him wince. He clawed at it with shaking hands, trying to get it out. Ben didn’t give him a chance—he drop-kicked the other supe into the large glass window.

They’d given this clone Homelander’s strength, but forgot to give him flight, it seemed. Because the supe fell and kept falling off the side of the tower. 

Ben stood there in the center of the destroyed room. 

He panted for breath, only then did he notice his own fatigue. His limbs felt heavy, and it nearly buckled his knees. He forced himself to stay upright. Ben would never admit it, but whatever that gun had blasted him with, it did a number on him. 

Ignoring how his hand shook, he raised it to his ear. 

“Stan Edgar’s dead,” he said. “So is Noir, probably. I’m headed down.”

Hughie helped Butcher to the van in the garage, but he stopped short. An ex-military-looking guy was walking toward him with a briefcase in hand, and leading a doctor in a lab coat with the other. 

“It’s you!” M.M. recognized him with a sharpening gaze. “From the airport. You’re one of Soldier Boy’s men.”

Frank gave the doctor over to M.M., informing them that you had asked him to put Dr. Baker into custody. At the mention of your name, Annie’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, she’s still in there!” she said. She turned on her comm and called your name. “Where the hell are you?”

“Uh…little busy at the moment,” you replied. 

Predictably, Soldier Boy got on the line next. 

“What? Where the fuck are you?”

Annie grimaced at the man’s tone. But she marveled, because she could hear the depths of his worry for you.

“Still in the tower. Some people are trapped on the second floor,” you replied. Soldier Boy’s growl of frustration came through. 

“Where are you exactly?” he demanded.

“Admin department, second floor,” you told Ben. You were prying open the door to the former when the ground beneath your feet trembled. “Oh shit!”

You needed both hands to stabilize yourself against the wall, but it was Jon who helped you stay upright. And he finished what you started, wrenching open the door and letting out a crowd of desperate people clamoring to get out. 

Once most of them passed, you and Jon slipped inside the large Administration office. Inside were various cubicles, conference rooms, and internal offices, one of which was Customer Service. That was your goal as you jogged through the halls. Jon fell into step with you.

“Look,” Jon began. “Everything I did—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said sharply. “I don’t have time for a meaningless heart-to-heart with you.”

You called out for Yvette, or anyone still trapped inside one of the offices. You heard a distant voice respond, and you followed it. You were led all the way to the end of the hall, where a chunk of debris had fallen outside of a glass office door. Inside was a group of about ten people.

“Okay, hold on!” you told them. “Stand back from the door.”

You and your father worked to clear the debris. But he looked up at you with something you’d never seen before in his eyes, though you refused to acknowledge it now. 

“When I came back from Vietnam, I saw what this country had become. How these asshole supes had taken over the goddamn world,” Jon said, though it was labored between bouts of lifting. 

He briefly grasped at his chest in pain. And you remembered then that Ben had broken at least his arm and collarbone. He even wore a cast on his forearm, which you finally noticed beneath his jacket sleeve. 

“You were different from your sister. Even at a young age, I saw that spark of fire in you. Hardheaded, even at the best of times,” he said, with a flicker of a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to handle this snake pit of a fucking world.”

He paused to look up at you. “But you were strong in spite of me.”

You had to stop and catch your breath. As his words registered, tears began to burn in your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Nor did you respond.

Once the doorway was clear, you were able to open the door and let the people out. The last of them was Yvette, and her son Devon.

“Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw you. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, and you returned it. 

“Are you okay?” you asked in relief. She tried and failed at a smile. Still weeping, she took her eight-year-old son’s hand and guided him out along with her. 

“Well, now we are. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later. Come on,” you said. You flashed Devon a smile and reached out your hand. “Hey, Devon. Let’s go, buddy.”

He was crying, but he nodded and grabbed your hand too. 

“He had a stomachache,” Yvette whispered to you. “I pulled him out of school early. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, we’re getting out,” you told her. Jon brought up the rear to make sure you all made it out of the office unit safely. 

You made it down to the gift shop on the first floor, but a small crowd had formed at the back exit to the garage—which by now, was the only safe route out of the tower. The lobby was completely destroyed. 

The problem was, the garage exit was now blocked by debris as well.

“All right,” Jon sighed. “There’s another way, through the custodian entrance—”

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

You struggled against a sob. His grip eased from your wrist, and you laid his hand to rest on the ground. 

Protect yourself, your sister’s voice reminded you. You couldn’t stay out in the open like this. Black Noir had finished with the men, and now was starting in on the rest of the survivors. It seemed that without a handler, the clone had no orders to fulfill except his own. 

With a ragged breath, you retrieved the gun from your belt and had to leave your father behind. 

You joined Yvette and Devon behind the A-Train aisle and warned them with a finger over your lips to stay quiet. You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

You could hear the agonized screams of people dying in the room, but you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you looked back at your father’s body on the cold ground. But with a determined breath, you looked at Yvette and Devon, who were clearly terrified. 

You cocked your gun and nodded at them to move forward down the aisle, but to stay low to the ground. The custodian entrance was on the first floor, but it was in the east wing of the tower. You were in the west wing. The only feasible way out was through the blocked garage exit, just up ahead. 

But so was Black Noir. The only thing you could do was stay alive long enough for Ben to find you. Because there was no way you could exit the room the way you came without Noir spotting you. 

Fuck. This wasn’t going to be easy. And all the while, the tower could come crashing down at any moment. The tremors in the walls and in the ground were increasing with every minute as pieces of the floor above continued to fall. 

A nightmare, for which you’d surely need copious amounts of therapy, if you survived this. 

No sooner had that thought filtered through your mind, when a katana flashed above your head, decapitating a cardboard cutout of The Deep. Yvette and Devon yelped in fright, but you grabbed them and shoved them forward into a sprint down the aisle with your head bowed. 

Bullets ripped after you, into the ground and the rows of merch. You turned a corner and stopped behind a large metal shelf lined with Queen Maeve plushies. 

But the three of you screamed when the katana ripped through the shelf, and one of the unfortunate plushies. 

You all stumbled into the open, where Noir soon found you. He raised his katana level with your face, and your eyes grew wide. But before the blade could slice into you, Noir was yanked back and thrown across the room, into the far wall with a heavy impact. He recovered, of course, but he paused.

Because Soldier Boy now stood between him and his targets. 

You looked up at Ben with relieved tears in your eyes—both for him saving your life, and just at the sight of him. He mostly looked all right, if a bit worse for wear. You knew you were much the same, dusty, bruised, and tearful. 

He flashed you a quirk of a smile. 

“Go, get out of here,” he said. 

“We can’t,” you started to say, but an explosion behind you made you flinch. You turned to see that the debris covering the garage exit had been cleared. It its place was M.M., Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, the latter waving a spare stick of dynamite. You smirked, even though your eyes glittered with unshed tears. 

“Okay, let’s go!” You reached for Devon and helped Yvette pick him up.

However, the dynamite blast had ruined what small semblance of stability was left in the ground floor. The ceiling began to fall—first near the exit, then right behind you, cutting you off from Ben. You gasped, but you didn’t have time to call out to him. 

And you heard M.M. and Annie calling out to you. All you could do was push Yvette forward, then drag her back when a massive chunk of concrete nearly fell on her and her son. 

But that’s when you lost your footing, and your balance, tipping backwards with a halting shriek.

You were trapped. Ben knew it the moment the wall of debris cut you off from him. He heard your voice, your scream, but he knew he couldn’t help you until he finished off Noir, for the last time. 

“All right, Earving. Let’s make this quick,” Ben said. “I don’t know if there’s any part of you left in there, but this would be a good fucking time to come out with some last words.”

The gray-eyed supe just stared back at him. His katana was drawn, and he slowly slid back into a crouched stance. Ben’s body tensed as well. The effects of Noir’s gun were still making his hands shake, but Ben clenched them into fists. He couldn’t afford weakness right now. 

So when Noir ran forward, Ben waited for the supe to come to him. He dodged the swipe of the blade, and threw out smart punches and combinations that started to push Noir back.

The blade came down again, but Ben blocked it with his shield. It cut through the top of it. But Ben used the momentary pause to kick Noir straight in the chest. He tore the blade from his shield and threw it away. Then he tossed his shield like a fatal frisbee. 

The supe narrowly dodged it, but he couldn’t escape Ben grappling him to the ground. He put all his energy into lighting the nuclear fuse in his chest. 

It was hard to keep it steady after the destabilizing gun, but no matter how Noir thrashed, Ben squeezed around his neck with all his might to keep him pinned. With a ragged yell, a flash of power escaped him. It fried through Noir’s suit, though it only lightly burned his skin. 

When the power ran its course, Noir lost his strength. The clone was now powerless. 

Ben grabbed a knife from the other supe’s belt, and he was able to break skin, stabbing into the center of the man’s chest. He didn’t let go until the clone’s gray eyes were truly lifeless.

Ben drew in ragged breaths. Gathering his strength, he pushed off of Noir and managed, with difficulty, back onto his feet. He felt satisfied, but maybe there was a bitter tinge to it. This thing had been created with Homelander’s DNA, and ultimately, Homelander had been a product of Soldier Boy.

Of Ben himself. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault. That lay dead with Stan. But Ben knew that he’d wasted a lot of time. For all his bravado, he had let himself be manipulated and controlled. For fame and money and women, and everything else that came with that.  

“Soldier Boy! Are you there?” he heard your friend call out. It broke him out of the haze of his exhaustion. He shook his head sharply to focus. 

He called back for you, nearing the wall of debris, but you didn’t answer. He was able to break some of it away, enough that he was finally able to see Yvette’s worried face. 

“Where is she?” he asked. A coil of dread stirred in the pit of his stomach. 

“She’s hurt,” said Yvette. 

The coil tightened, as did Ben’s jaw. 

“All right, stand back,” he ordered. He grabbed his discarded shield and held it aloft. 

“Okay, go ahead!” she said. 

He used his shield like a battering ram to get through the pile of wood and concrete. It loosened even more of the trembling ceiling and plunged the entire clearing with dust. Ben waved a hand through it, coughing as he stepped inside. He found Yvette and her son, but his eyes were drawn to you.

You’d fallen on your back, and a slab of concrete was pinning your leg. He moved it with a grunt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy impact. He examined your leg next; he was no doctor, but he could assume it was probably broken under the weight of concrete. 

Okay. Doctors could fix a fucking leg, he reasoned. He was more concerned about your head. Had you hit it on the way down, or had you smacked it on the hard tile when you landed?

Your hair was loose, and he slid careful fingers through it. He felt a small knot forming behind your head. He touched your pale cheek…

And then he saw it. 

You weren’t lying entirely on the ground. You’d fallen on a small pile of rubble, and sticking out an inch below your shoulder was a thick piece of rebar.

Fuck, he thought. Your pulse at your neck was still beating under the pads of his fingers. 

But then, he paused. He was starting to hear something, a deeper tremor than the occasional rubble falling from the ceiling. 

“Are you guys okay?” M.M. called. With all the debris, he couldn’t quite get to you all. But maybe he could find a hole underneath the rubble to squeeze you out of. 

“The tower’s coming down!” Ben barked. 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get the fuck out of here,” M.M. replied.

“No, the whole fucking thing. It’s coming down now!” Ben said. Yvette grabbed her son and huddled closer to you and Ben. He quickly stood and surveyed his surroundings in search of a larger shield. 

The only thing in reach was a large metal shelf. It would have to do. 

He grabbed it and ran back to you, just in time for the world to start falling. 

Ben blinked dust and plaster out of his eyes and coughed it out of his mouth. He was holding God knew how much of the tower on his back. The metal groves of the shelf were digging into his spine and between his shoulder blades. 

When his vision cleared, he saw that Yvette was knocked out, bleeding from a cut on her temple. Maybe a stray rock had hit her. 

Her son seemed all right though, if covered in dust. 

“You okay, kid?” Ben asked. He nodded shakily, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he was still alive. Ben could understand that.

However, you were the one he was worried about. He called your name, but you didn’t respond. Ben looked up at the kid. 

“Shake her a little, would ya? Not hard.”

The kid nodded, biting his lip. He gently shook your arm, calling your name. Eventually you coughed and opened your eyes on a moan of pain. Ben let out a short, relieved breath.

“Hey…how you doin’?”

“Hurts to breathe,” you admitted, coughing up more dust. But you cried out when trying to get up disturbed your shoulder. “What…?”

“Don’t move,” he warned you. “You’re uh…you’re pinned down.” 

With trembling lips, you turned your head and saw what held you—the rebar protruding just beneath your shoulder. You let out a ragged breath. 

An inch lower and it would’ve been your heart. 

The problem was, you were sure you would bleed out anyway the moment you were freed from the rebar. 

“Don’t look at it,” Ben said firmly. “Look at me.”

You blinked up at him with watery eyes. You finally realized that he was kneeling, holding up a massive shelf to cover all four of you. 

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” you asked. A tear streamed down the side of your face. 

Ben nodded. Really, it was taking all the strength he had left to hold up this piece of shit, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

“I can do this all fucking day,” he said with a smirk. “But maybe check in with your friends so we can get the hell out of here.”

Letting out another shaky breath, you raised the hand opposite to your pinned shoulder and pressed a finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Are you guys still there? Did anyone make it out?” you asked.

For a moment, it was silent. You looked over at Devon, who was quietly crying. You reached out your free hand to him, even if it made more blood weep from your shoulder. He grabbed your hand, and you gave his a comforting squeeze. 

“It’s okay, Dev. We’re getting out soon,” you tried to sooth him. Devon nodded and squeezed your hand back. 

Ben watched the exchange with interest. You seemed to have a good way with kids…

“Hello?” you repeated into the comm. Your voice was weak and raspy, even to your own ears. You released your shaking hand back to the ground. “No one’s answering…where’s Yvette?”

“Knocked out for a bit, but she looks fine,” said Ben, nodding to where your friend was lying on the ground. 

Though he realized he was starting to lose you when your eyes closed. 

“Hey,” he barked. “Stay with me.”

The near shout forced you to open your eyes, but they were already starting to droop. Ben finally noticed the blood slipping away from you, starting to pool beneath your arm. 

“I’m awake, just resting my eyes,” you said. Not very convincing. 

Ben experimentally lowered an arm from supporting the shelf. He moved slow, and he heard shifting rubble above him, but he managed to balance the shelf on just his back. He grit his teeth at the strain.

Even for him, the weight was immense. He didn’t know how long they could wait for someone to get to them. But he could see the kid was frozen with fear.

“You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Ben said.

The kid was tearful, but he nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Devon.”

“All right, Devon. You know who I am?”

“…Soldier Boy,” the kid replied in a small voice. His large brown eyes were filled with tears as he sniffed. His short hair and dark tan skin were covered with dust, so Ben could see the path of his tears down his cheeks and neck. He gave Devon an attempt at a smile and nodded. 

“That’s right.”

Finally, some of the debris near Yvette cleared a small hole above the ground, revealing Kimiko. Her eyes widened with excitement, her mouth falling open in a quiet gasp. She smiled and ducked her head back out. Ben frowned in confusion as he heard the French guy and some of the others babbling. 

“Hello?” he snapped. “The fuck is going on out there?” 

M.M. peered in next and took in the four of you with relief. He met Ben’s gaze.

“They’ll need a stretcher,” Ben said, gesturing at you and Yvette. “And a medic.”

“Okay, we’re gonna see if we can open this hole a bit wider,” M.M. said. He frowned at the narrow space inside. “It’s gonna be hard to get a stretcher in here.”

“Just get it done,” Ben said, beginning to lose his patience. He was carrying the tower on his back, and you were fading before his eyes. 

M.M. nodded and was gone. But he returned soon after with Kimiko, and both worked together to open the hold wider without dislodging more debris. Once they had a big enough hole, M.M. peered in.

“Okay, who’s first?”

“She is,” Ben said, nodding down at you. “Bring the stretcher.”

Once again, M.M. disappeared.

Ben looked over at Devon. 

“She’s hurt bad. We’re going to get her out first,” Ben said, gesturing at you. “I’m going to need you to hold her down, by her shoulders. After I take out the rebar, you’re going to put pressure on the wound. Got it?”

Devon looked unsure. 

“Got it?” Ben repeated. More tears slid down the boy’s cheeks as he shook his head.

“Listen, you little sh—” Ben started to snap in irritation.

But at the last moment, he stopped himself. He remembered how you were with the kid earlier, tried to think of what you might say right about now. 

“Uh, you can do this,” he said, gruff and a bit awkward. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Devon said in a small voice. 

At that, annoyance slowly drained out of Ben. He reached out and grasped the kid’s shoulder, firm, but gentle.

“You won’t. You’re going to help her,” he said. “Just hold her down, and I’ll do the rest. All right?”

He hesitated, but Devon nodded and wiped his face dry. 

“Good man,” Ben nodded. “Now come on, over here.”

Devon moved so that he was behind you, holding your shoulders down.

You grimaced and made a sound of pain. But Ben was quick; he braced your shoulder with one hand and slid the rebar out with the other. He forced himself to remain stoic at your resulting screech of agony. 

But Devon couldn’t. His tears came down anew, and he immediately released your shoulders. Ben moved you more fully onto the ground and instructed Devon to put pressure on the wound, leaning his body weight into it. 

“Stay awake,” Ben warned you. He knew you were having a hard time, and tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, onto the ground below. You forced your eyes to open, so you could look up at him.

“Ben,” you tried, but if this was going to be an if I die speech, then he didn’t want to fucking hear it.

“Don’t talk,” he said sternly. “Just keep breathing.”

“Listen,” you insisted. With difficulty, you grabbed onto the metal embellishments on his suit, finding purchase on his chest. 

“You are strong. You can do anything you want, you know,” you said, smiling wryly. “Including, being a better man.” 

Ben looked down at you with knitted brows. Sweat slipped down his forehead, but he didn’t know what to say to you. 

Until you let go of his suit, and your eyes started to close. 

“Fuck. Stay awake, damn it!” he snapped. It was an effort, but you opened your eyes. 

Then Yvette started to rouse, raising a hand to her aching head. 

“Oh, thanks for joining us,” Ben remarked, unable to disguise most of his snark. Devon helped her sit properly. 

When she saw you, paler than ever, she gasped and took over putting pressure on your wound. 

M.M. then finally returned with the stretcher. He beckoned Devon out first.

“Come on, little man.”

Ben opened his mouth to snap a protest, but M.M. shook his head. 

“It’s too narrow. They need to come out first to make room.”

Devon eyed the jagged concrete around the hole they’d created. He seemed scared to attempt taking M.M.’s hand to leave. 

He looked back at Yvette, who encouraged him forward. But he also looked over at Ben. 

He was frankly surprised the kid was looking to him for reassurance. Again, he thought of what you’d said to Devon earlier. 

“It’s okay,” Ben said. “You’re going home today. Trust me, son.” 

Devon stared at his face for a moment, and nodded tearfully. 

When M.M. was eventually able to take the boy’s hand, he met Ben’s gaze, which was mostly covered by stoicism. 

Devon made it out of the cave, followed by Yvette. While she climbed out, Ben took over putting pressure on your wound, even though it made the shelf creak. He grunted against the pressure on his back. 

Then M.M. finally slipped in the stretcher. Ben roused you by tapping on your cheek. He accidentally left a smudge of your own blood there.

“Come on, baby doll. Work with me here,” he muttered. You whimpered in response.  

You were so pale, but you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You’re a fighter, Ben reminded himself, as he helped M.M. maneuver you onto the stretcher.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he said.

“Wait,” you croaked. “Wait…how’re you getting out?” 

Ben quirked a smile. 

“I’m right behind you.” But he then glared up at M.M. “Hurry the fuck up. She’s still bleeding out.”

M.M. shot him a dark look, but he ignored Ben in order to help you. After you were taken out on the stretcher, Annie called out to him. 

“The fire department’s about to come in with pressure bags, so you can drop the shelf,” she said.  

True to her word, Ben started to hear a sharp whirring—the sound of something inflating. 

But as soon as they started, the ground shook. 

And the walls once again began to collapse around him. 

AN: *cowers in the corner* Please don't hate me! I promise, you're going to like the ultimate outcome of the next chapter (despite the teaser lol).

But I would still love to hear your thoughts on this one! What did you think of Jon's ultimate fate? How did you like Ben literally holding up the Tower?

(And did you catch the small Captain America reference? 😏)

**Side note: I hope you all enjoyed "Love Actually"! It's a far cry from where we are right now in BMD world lol...

Next Time:

Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

Keep Reading: PART 17

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: she at it again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her 

Bucky leaves the leftovers in the fridge, his included, and the tea on the counter. He didn’t heed your protests before he went, insisting that it’s for you. You didn’t put up much of a fight. You’re too tired. 

Alone, you settle onto the couch and stare at the door. You’re used to being on your own but now it seems so scary. What if that man comes back? Bucky says he ran off, that means he’s still out there. You blow out at the ceiling as you lean your head back; just another problem. 

Your mind shifts to him. To Bucky. The man that saved you. It only sets in then that it’s been the nicest day you’ve had in a while, outside the break-in. You can separate the day from the night in that regard. 

It isn’t just nice to have food in your tummy, but you forgot what it’s like to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t your doctor or a government admin bartering about your stipend. Not only that, but the way he looked at you. So intent, as if he truly could care for a stranger like you. As if someone broken could ever be special. 

What are the odds he would like that noodle shop too? You suppose it’s rather popular. A coincidence can be just that. Maybe for once luck is on your side. You want to believe that but it’s just so hard to accept. You lost faith in it so long ago. 

You sidle down and ease yourself across the mattress. It feels good to just be still. You close your eyes and long for a hot soak. Showers are nice but you can’t stand for very long and the shower seat has the water spraying over you so that it feels cold. 

You languish across the thin bed but don’t sleep. Even if your hip wasn’t screaming in agony, your mind won’t settle. You might just have to take one of those pills Dr. Grissam prescribed. 

You keep the light on with little mind to the electric bill. You can’t sleep without it. You keep the curtains drawn and each time you wake with a start, you drag yourself up to check that the door is still locked. You give in to consciousness as a headache thrums behind your brow. 

As much as your fear keeps you up, you know it’s the bed too. Each night gets harder. What else can you do? You don’t have any better options. The floor would surely only leave you utterly helpless. 

You have a cup of the new tea. It’s just as delicious as at the noodle shop. You bask in its warmth until the very bottom of the cup. When it’s all gone, you stretch the way the physio showed you, and move around with your cane. You still find that awkward. 

You go out to check the mail, nervous at opening the door. The alley way is empty and quiet but for the noise of the upstairs neighbours. You pull the single envelope out of the dented mailbox and retreat. Thunk, thunk, you’re certain that both locks are firmly in place. 

You know by the stamp what it is. It’s your stipend. You’ll have to go cash it. You keep everything in bills. You can’t afford the bank fees for an account. Another journey outside. 

You tuck the check into your bag and get dressed. You wear a loose pair of cargo pants and a tee shirt with daisies on it. Your clothes are outdated and worn. You feel even more invisible when you walk past the stylish women on the streets with their stilettos and designer purses. It’s all just another fantasy you’ve let go of. 

You head off, your gait even more off-kilter than usual. It isn’t the joint that troubles you today but your anxiety. The pain is tolerable, as neutral as it can be, but that worry in your head won’t calm. You keep your free hand on your bag and clack your cane in time with your feet. 

The bank isn’t very far. You join the queue inside and lean on the cane as you pull out the check in anticipation. Your heart drops as you see the amount. It’s less than last month. A whole hundred dollars less... 

Why? You should’ve read the letter with it. You’re dumb. You’ll have to call the municipal office again. Hopefully, this time they don’t send you to hold and waste all your minutes.  

You step up and try not to show your disappointment. You get your money in a slim brown envelope and thank the teller. You head off to figure out what to do, if there’s anything to be done. 

You walk past a new stand and slow as you recognise a face on the glossy cover of a magazine. It’s Bucky. Huh. He really is famous. You shift to face the shelves and lean in as you see yourself in a smaller frame with him. Oh gosh, you look feeble next to him. 

The big bold letters scream out the question, ‘who?’ and proclaim you as a ‘mystery girl’ as others ponder if you’re a charity case. Is Bucky Barnes giving back again? Visiting with one of the many civilians he’s saved from danger? The truth is much less flattering. 

You peer up as the clerk watches you. As he approaches, you turn and quickly limp off. That’s so embarrassing. 

You can’t worry about it. You have a lot more than some clueless reporters to figure out. How in the hell are you going to afford to live? 

Bucky 

He watches her through the lens. She empties out her cupboards, the meagre pantry spread out on her counter. She makes note on the small pad, the same one she used to write him the thank you note. The one he keeps in his chest pocket. 

She drops the pen and huffs. She leans her elbows on the counter and holds her head in her hands as she bends forward. The last few days, she’s been grim. He wish he could be there but he’s stuck at this stupid fucking training. Something about lethal force and when to use it. As if he doesn’t know. 

“Hey,” Sam whispers without looking over, “stop texting your girlfriend.” 

“I’m not,” he counters and blacks the screen, hiding the cell in his lap. “She’s not my girlfriend...” 

“Not yet,” his partner laughs, “one day, right, bud?” 

“Quiet, I’m listening,” Bucky nods to the front of the room. 

“Sure,” Sam scoffs. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and clutches his phone tight. He’s antsy as all he can think about is her. What’s wrong? Something’s happened and he can’t figure it out. 

Fuck it. He flips his phone, keeping it against his thigh as he frames it with his hand. He unlocks the screen with his thumbprint and she appears again. Her shoulders are shaking as she’s wracked with sobs. Shit. He can’t just sit here listening to this nonsense. 

He stands up without thinking and slides his phone into his back pocket. Agents look at him and the suit giving the lecture pauses. Bucky doesn’t hesitate. 

“Emergency,” he states with a wave of his metal hand. No one protests his weak excuse. Not when they see that. 

He steps around Sam’s chair as he makes no effort to move out of his way. He lurches it with a scrape and huffs at his deliberate obstacle. Sam makes a noise but doesn’t resist. Bucky quickly marches out without looking back. He has to get back to her. Now. 

The helicopter ride isn’t fast enough. Bucky is restless and barely able to sit. The pilots tell him several times to do so. At last, he gets off and hurries across the tarmac. There is only his mission; her. 

He zips off on his motorcycle, weaving through traffic recklessly, until he has the mind to reel it in at a red light that nearly sends him spinning. He stops and plants his feet. He pulls on his helmet and curses himself. He’s no good to her all beaten up. 

He tries to measure his impatience but he’s never been very good at that. He can see her sobbing in his head. It makes his chest rent. He veers into the alleyway, his motor echoing, and dying as he twists the ignition. He tears the key out and kicks the stand down. 

He charges at the door then stop short. What is he doing? Shit. It’s too late. He sees the curtain stir. No doubt she heard him coming. He cringes and his treads scuff with his weight. 

She opens the inside door and peers out. He can see the dampness on her cheeks, her eyes are still swollen. She must’ve been crying this whole time. Something is seriously wrong. 

“Hey,” he says dumbly with an even dopier smile. 

“What--” she mops her face with her bare hands. She doesn’t have her cane, instead she hunches to one side. “What are you doing here?” 

“You know, I realised I never got your number and I was in the neighbourhood so...” 

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any time on my phone,” she sniffles then winces. She lowers he eyes and shakes her head, “I’m sorry. I’m... I’m dealing with some stuff.” 

“Oh, I... well, I was in the mood for ice cream--” 

“I can’t--” she snaps and stops herself, slapping her hand across her mouth. Her eyes round through the black iron grating and suddenly she’s staggering. Her leg crumples under her and she lands on her hip with a worrying crash. “Ow!” 

“Oh god,” he exclaims. It’s all his fault. He didn’t think. Why didn’t he think?! “Are you--” He grabs the handle but the outer door is still locked. Whatever. He breaks it easily and reams it open, “are you okay?” 

He drops to his knee and touches her arm. She’s trembling. 

“No,” she babbles as she covers her face with one hand, her other arm shaking as she keeps herself propped up. “No, I’m not okay! I can’t-- I can’t go for ice cream because I can’t-- I can’t walk that far. And I can’t-- I don’t even have two dollars to spend on a scoop—and--”  

He can hear her heart hammering as it all spills out of her. She’s been holding it in for so long, he can feel it roiling off of her. He knows better than anyone she needs this. 

“Please go away!” She keeps her face hidden behind her hand, “I’m a loser. Please. I can’t-- I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

His breath is completely gone. He feels like he’s been punched in the chest. He can’t bear to see her in so much pain. He’s sat and watched for so long. He can’t do it any more, just like she can’t. 

“You’re not... a loser,” he says as he rubs her shoulder, “I don’t think that at all. You’re stronger than anyone I know. You’re stronger than me.” 

“You don’t know me,” she rips her hand away at last, her eyes sparkling with tears and pain. “How would you know?” 

“I can see it. Right now. But you don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to send me away. You don’t have to be embarrassed. You shouldn’t be,” he drawls gently, “you’re not broken.” 

“I am,” she pushes herself to lean forward on her own weight and hangs her head, “I’m all messed up. No one cares about me. They just think I’m a burden. I'm lazy and useless.” 

“I don’t--” 

“You don’t know--” 

“I do,” he insists, “I’ve been where you are. I--” He looks down and retracts his hand. His own heart is pounding.  

He sits back on his heel and unzips his jacket. He slips his hand up his shirt and feels along his chest and shoulders. He finds the release and pushes, hooking his fingers until the weight drops off. His arm lands by his knee with a metallic noise. She gasps. 

“I know you,” he repeats as he watches her, more terrified than he’s ever been. 

[unknownperson246]

HIIII , I love ur work. it’s amazing <3

if you don’t mind could you do one of current Axl rose

the reader and axl have been doing it for a while now and they r in a relationship but nobody knows. one day she has a class with him and she misbehaved in class on purpose just to piss him off so at the end of the class he makes her stay behind and he just does pure filth to her. make it as filthy as you want . love yaaa thank you 🫶🏽🫶🏽

hiiii thank you 🤍🤍🤍🤍 also I’m so sorry it’s late but here it is. I hope you enjoy it 🤍

Call Me Professor

Words: 996

warnings: *smut* *p in v* *age gap* *professor Axl* *overstimulation* *vibrator* *doing it in a classroom* *praise kink* *spanking kink*

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙

You are a college student. You are in your freshman year of college. Everything was very new to you. At the beginning of the year, you were getting used to everything around you. It was amazing. All of your professors were boring and they always were so harsh on you. You hated the professors and their classes until you met Professor Axl. He was perfect. You were always paying attention in his class. His deep raspy voice made you go feral. His teaching style was always so easy for you to understand. He taught college-level chemistry. Chemistry was a very difficult subject for you even in high school. But your professor made it very simple and easy to understand. You didn't want to waste any more time. One day you asked to stay after because you needed help understanding something. He turned around and you pulled your skirt off. Ever since then, you both have been doing it for 4 months in his classroom. You both are in a relationship but no college student or admin knows. You both have been very hush-hush about it. You didn't want to get your 62-year-old college professor boyfriend in trouble. 

You are now sitting in his class in the front row while he teaches more basic chemistry to all of the class. A light bulb goes off in your head. You were shy and you didn't like drawing attention to yourself but you were desperate for him. 

“Axl!” you shout out.

He snaps his neck back to look at you. He was embarrassed. 

“Mr.Axl Rose You fucking suck ass,” You say chuckling and smiling while the other college students just sit there and look at you in annoyance.

“Y/N please meet me after class.” He announces with a red face and a firm voice.

“Sure thing Mr.Ass sucker.” You say smirking at him.

As soon as the lecture was over and everyone left you went over to his desk and pulled your skirt off.

“Hello, Mr. Rose.” You smirk at him putting his hands on his chest. 

You grab his arms and you put his hands on your chest. He is still very mad at you and he doesn't say anything. He turns around to go and lock the door. He comes back.

“The stunt you pulled today… You're going to be sorry. You fucking needy ass whore” He yells.

“Oh does that upset Mr.Rose?” You say pouting and smiling like it was a joke. 

You put your hand on his cock that was not going to go soft on you. You felt it swell up even more when you were touching it.  He tried to conceal his lustful eyes. You could hear small groans escape his lips when you touched him. “Mr Rose,” You say.

“Call me Professor. Dumb whore” He mutters as he takes his zipper down and slides his jeans halfway down. You sit down on his desk without your skirt trying to seduce him again. He pulls out a vibrator from his briefcase. He bought the vibrator brand new and he bought it for you. He figured it was the best time to use it on you.  He pulled the remote out

You gulp as you see the vibrator. You didn't want to feel overstimulated. You decided to lie down on the table. You laying down and spreading your legs was an act of confirmation that he could stick it inside of you. Without any shame, he put it on the highest setting with the remote that came with it. “Axl” You sob as you feel the buzz and the vibrations.

“It's Professor Axl,” He says, flipping you over to face up. He smacks your ass. You found it hot when he turned you over to smack you. 

It felt like when teachers would hit students back in the day. Of course, you never got that experience. It was happening in front of your eyes. He was smacking you and you loved it. You indulged in it. He stopped the vibrator mid-way. He got on the desk without his pants. 

“Ax- I mean Professor. Why did you stop?” You say in a whiny voice.

His knees are on both sides next to you. His arms are straight. He is hovering above you. He doesn't speak. He grabs his huge and thick cock. He puts it at your entrance. You feel his cock touching your entrance. You feel the tip enter first. He doesn't fully thrust. After a couple of minutes, you feel his hands on your ass. He starts to go in and out of you. His hips collide with your ass. You feel his tip continuously smack your g spot over and over. His hands move up to your hips. “Profe-” You cry.

You can't string a full sentence together from his cock pounding you like this. It's been forever since the both of you had fucked. It felt so good to both of you. Axl's head goes back. You feel his thrusts get sloppy and his hands dig in your hips. His thumb rubbing circles on your upper ass. He is breathless. You feel his wet load inside of you. 

“Good slut” He moans. 

You feel something happening to you when he says that. Your stomach ties up into a knot and your moans and sighs get heavier. You feel yourself coming on his cock. He pulls out of you and he gets up from his table. You watch his next moves scared that he is going to do something to you. He gets up and unlocks his door. It was your signal to get up and leave his lecture room. You got up and grabbed your skirt. You grabbed your tote back and headed on out to your next class. Once you got to your next class you just realized you forgot to fix your hair and clothes. You were embarrassed and covered your clothes with your arms. 

[badbtssmut]

Every week your boyfriend’s friends come over for a game of poker and a round of fucking.

Admin note: originally a stepincest fic but rewritten to a Namjoon and best friends smut, some parts changed or rewritten

Contains: free use, passed around, riding, rug burns, double penetration vaginal, anal, words like slut and whore, blowjobs and handjobs, missionary, doggy

-

Admitting to your boyfriend that the idea of his friends’ cocks inside of you, was terrifying to say the least. You were so convinced that he’d snap, get upset or would look at you with disgust but to your surprise, you got none of that. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a warm embrace.

“I want to see their cocks in that sweet pussy too.”

Your boyfriend was amazing in bed, Namjoon’s cock made you see stars and you could never get enough of bouncing on his cock, but his friends’ cocks made you feel pleasure in more ways than one.

Tonight, it was the usual night; poker night. Or rather, something was different. Instead of four of his friends, two more tagged along, which you didn’t mind one bit.

The men were seated around the table, a few bottles of beer scattered around the surface along with their cards and chips. Namjoon was at the head of the table, his chair slightly pulled back from the edge to make room for you as you straddled him.

“Who is winning?” You asked, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder as you ground your hips against his, his hardening length straining against his jeans.

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

You felt the material of the leather jacket press against your back, and you knew what you were wearing was driving him wild. It was a simple, white button down, but you had taken your bra off before you went downstairs and the thin material was see-through and did nothing to hide your hard nipples.

You wore a skirt as well, short and black and a bit frilly around the edges, something Namjoon had bought for you the week before, and a pair of white thigh highs.

"You are." Namjoon whispered in your ear, his fingers trailing under your skirt and teasing your soaked cunt. “Please, go get us some snacks?” He requested, pushing you off his lap and patting your ass, and so you went to the kitchen.

You popped open two bags of chips and crackers and placed them on a big plate, pausing as you first unbuttoned your shirt and let it slip off your body, leaving you in nothing but the skirt and socks.

After you added the drinks and a bowl of candy, you brought the tray out, the men looking at you with lust in their eyes, some looking at you and back to Namjoon in surprise, as you walked out, your breasts jiggling with every step.

“See? Didn’t I tell you she has nice tits? They’re as soft as they look let me tell you that.” Yoongi whispered to the man sitting next to him, Jungkook.

“Damn.” The new friend, Jungkook, muttered, unable to keep his eyes off them.

You sat the platter on the coffee table and went to sit on Namjoon’s lap again. He leaned in to kiss you and his hand trailed to your back, unzipping your skirt before pulling it off you and dropping it to the floor.

The game continued, and you saw the men all take out their cocks one by one and start stroking, clearly turned on by your presence.

“Go on, go give our guests a ride.” Namjoon whispered in your ear as he pushed you off his lap once more. And you were barely standing on your own for a second until someone yanked you closer and you fell on Hoseok’s lap, his cock pressing against your soaked folds.

Hoseok wasted no time in lining his length up with your pussy and thrusting into you, and you moaned as you sank down, his girth stretching you deliciously.

“Always so soaking wet, do you wait on us all day, angel? Can’t wait till we fill you up? Is that it?” Hoseok ran his tongue over your neck, causing you to shiver.

“Yes, get so wet thinking about your cocks.” You admitted, causing Yoongi to stroke harder out of anticipation as he was next.

“What a good girl.” Jimin cooed, leaning over the table and pressing a kiss against your lips. You moaned against his mouth as Hoseok trusted into you. He pulled away and you let out a small breath.

You rested your arms on the table, the wood cold under your palms as you began bouncing on Hoseok’s length, moaning every time his cock hit the sweet spot deep inside you. The poker game continued, along with some casual chatting, all men glancing your way here and there as they eagerly awaited their turns.

When you were done with Hoseok, a hand shot to your arm and pulled you off him, pushing you towards another lap.

Yoongi held you in place with one hand as the other guided his cock into you, and the angle was deeper than with Hoseok, his cock hitting places you didn’t know were there.

“Y/N, shit, you can take cock so well, must’ve practiced a lot, didn’t you?” Yoongi’s hand traveled to your tits, groping on the left boob.

And just like that, you rode all of the men until they all had their turns with you, but it didn’t end there.

It was only the start.

The poker table was left abandoned as you and the men moved to the livingroom, some sitting on the couches, others leaning on the wall or standing.

In front of them was you on the living room carpet, Jungkook pounding into you, his hand on your throat as he choked you and fucked you. You were on your back, hands clawing at the soft rug and mouth hanging open, whorish moans and cries leaving your lips. Seokjin tapped his cock against your mouth, making you look at him, and you took his cock between your lips, sucking him eagerly as Jungkook pounded you. The man could no longer hold back as he became overwhelmed by the hornyness he felt as he watched how you were passed around.

“Told you so.” Taehyung chuckled. “She loves cock so much, she can keep on going forever if we’d let her.” He crossed his arms as he watched the younger grip onto you tighter, sweat rolling down his face as he couldn’t get enough.

It was pure bliss, being stuffed at both ends, and soon enough Jungkook and Seokjin had switched places, Jungkook fucking your throat now as he tugged on your hair, making you look at the others who were jerking off, watching the show. Yoongi joined your side and wrapped your fingers around his cock, guiding them up and down his length, and your other free hand was wrapped around Taehyung’s cock.

It was chaotic, the men went crazy for you. Everytime there was an empty spot, they’d rush in to take it, and they nearly fought over who got to pound into that sweet pussy this time. One moment you were riding Taehyung, and the next you were giving Namjoon a blowjob. It was overwhelming but so fucking hot how they went crazy for you.

“Fuck, if you think her pussy is tight, you need to try that ass, holy shit it's heaven." Jimin moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrust into you, hands holding your legs wide apart, spreading you open for him.

The men didn’t needed to be told that again, all impatiently waiting for their turn. They couldn't wait to have your ass, the mere thought of having their cocks in your ass making their cocks throb.

You were on all fours, ass raised up in the air, face pressed into the carpet as the guys fucked you from behind one by one. They were rough, and the carpet burned your skin, but you didn’t care. Your body was sore and sensitive from the hours of constant fucking, your holes used and abused, but you wanted more.

They were like animals in heat, and you were their only outlet.

You had a break for a few minutes, and so did the guys, before Namjoon pulled you onto the couch, onto his lap.

“I don’t know how the fuck you do this, you can never have enough, huh? Always wanting more?” Namjoon spoke as he kissed you.

"Can't help it, love the way you all fuck me, I want more, always more." You admitted, your words breathy and weak.

You heard the men murmur something amongst themselves and the next thing you knew, the guys were surrounding the couch, their cocks in hand.

"Go on, put them in your mouth." Namjoon said as he spread your legs wide apart, exposing your dripping pussy to everyone, his fingers spreading your folds, showing everyone how soaked you were.

Your hands grabbed ahold of the two closest dicks, pumping them a few times before putting them in your mouth. Namjoon scooted back against the sofa and your body rested back against his.

"Grab the rest of the cocks, sweetie. Let them have your hands." Namjoon ordered and you reached for the other cocks, wrapping your fingers around them.

Your head was spinning from the sudden overload, the men surrounding you, the cocks in your hands and mouth and the feel of Namjoon's thick length buried deep in your ass.

You felt someone’s tip push against your pussy, and soon enough, their cock was sliding in, Taehyung beginning to fuck you as the others used your hands and mouth.

“What a good girl, taking in two cocks at the same time.” Namjoon was thrusting his hips upwards, his cock pounding into you as the others fucked your mouth and pussy, and you were a mess, a whiny, whimpering, moaning mess.

"Shit, her hands feel so good."

"Yeah, and her pussy, so tight."

"You like sucking my dick, princess?"

You couldn't reply, not when the guys were stuffing your mouth and pussy, but you could make sure they enjoyed themselves.

Taehyung panted as he slammed into your pussy, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. "Ah, she's milking my cock so well, shit, you are such a good whore, never met someone this good before.” Taehyung whispered.

"She loves being praised, don't you babygirl?" Namjoon said as his hips snapped upwards and you moaned around the cock in your mouth, the vibrations making Yoongi groan.

"Fuuuck, she's so wet. Shit, she's really into this."

"Of course she is, she's a slut."

Then, you felt another cock brush against your folds, and you looked down to see Hoseok lining himself up with your already stuffed pussy, ready to slide in. Taehyung moved up, making room for him.

“Are you sure you can take all this cock?” Namjoon teased, but then, Hoseok began thrusting and you couldn’t form any words, your mind and body overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Fuck, this feels so good, so tight." Hoseok moaned, the men's moans filling the room.

You couldn’t think, couldn't focus on anything except the cocks filling you up, stretching you, and the sounds the guys made, their praises and their curses, the way their cocks twitched in your hands and mouth and how they throbbed in your holes.

“Ah! Ah!” You could barely moan, the sound muffled by the cocks in your mouth, your eyes rolled back at the sensation— fuck, you were so stuffed. You glanced down to look at your pussy and the sight was filthy, the three cocks pumping in and out of your stretched holes, you didn’t even know your body could do this.

Taehyung increased his speed, his teeth gritted as he pounded into you, his thrusts becoming frantic, his cock twitching, and then he came, his cum filling your pussy, the white substance leaking out of your filled hole.

Taehyung left but his spot was soon taken by the others, and they all kept going, fucking you, filling you up.

They took turns, and it went on for what seemed like hours, the men coming one after another, until only Namjoon was left.

Namjoon laid you down on the couch before he lined his length up with your pussy and slid in, fucking you into the sofa, the piece of furniture shaking under you, the wooden feet scraping the floor.

You were a whimpering, moaning, fucked out mess, unable to even beg for more. Namjoon was pounding into you, his hips slamming into yours, his hands digging into the soft skin of your thighs as he pulled your legs wider apart.

“Look at you, covered in cum, all holes used and abused, and you’re still taking cock, aren't you? Such a good slutty girl." Namjoon's cock brushed against a spot that made you whimper and he smirked, focusing his thrusts on that spot, his thumb moving to rub against your clit.

It was all too much, the pleasure overwhelming. You couldn’t take it, your body spasming, toes curling as an intense orgasm washed over you.

And, a second later, you felt a hot load fill your pussy and Namjoon collapsed on top of you, his cock twitching inside you, still filling you up.

You were spent, completely exhausted, but you had loved every single second of it, and so did the men.

You panted, taking deep breaths, it was intense, and as you laid there, you started to think to yourself how lucky you were that you managed to find so many trustworthy men to fuck.

When it was time to leave, the men stood in a row to give you a farewell kiss, and it was just you and Namjoon.

“Did you have fun?” He asked as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Yeah.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around him.

“Good. We did too.” Namjoon leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

Chapter 11

Warnings: swearing, angst

Notes: this chapter came out shorter than I'd like but this updates only a few days late. Hope y'all enjoy.

Life at the compound went on but with the 'punishments' Fury and Hill assigned everyone was too busy to do much else. Training, chores, therapy and sleep were all Bucky had the time or energy for but he made sure to write to Cookie every day, even though some days there wasn't much to say.

Two weeks after the meeting with Fury, Bucky was eating lunch with Sam, who nagged him more than Steve, so he had learned to tune him out. One of the admins walked by with Avengers mail and Bucky was shocked to get something. He wasn't the most popular Avenger so rarely had any fan mail. He took the envelope from the admin and looked at it with wide eyes. He gasped when he saw who it was from and felt his heart racing. It was kinda lumpy, like there was more than just a letter. His stomach dropped when he assumed she was returning his dog tags and he set it down on the table, afraid to open it.

Sam looked over "You might as well tear off that bandaid and get it over with. How much worse could it be?"

Bucky looked at him with sad eyes. "She could be telling me she never wants anything to do with me. Not that I don't deserve it but right now I still have hope. Like Schroedingers cat, right now our friendship is alive and dead at the same time but once I open it, it'll be one or the other."

Sam chuckled "You're not wrong but you can't pretend forever. Maybe she's asking for something from you but if you don't read it you won't give it to her and she'll think you don't really care."

Bucky nodded "Yeah, I guess. I'll open it tonight."

Bucky spent the rest of the day acutely aware of the envelope in his back pocket, reaching back to touch it and make sure it was still there, like a talisman helping him through the day.

Once the work for the day was done he went to his room, locked the door and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers to get comfortable on his bed. He picked up the envelope and examined it thoroughly, he could just barely catch the scent of her lavender hand lotion on it.

After 20 minutes he decided he had gleaned all the info he could without opening the envelope and with shaking hands, carefully opened it. He pulled the paper out and when he unfolded it, something fell into his lap. The special dog tags that Sam had given him as a joke and a picture.

He picked up the picture and felt like his heart stopped when he realized it was Cookie, smirking at him with his own dog tags nestled in her cleavage. Not a scrap of clothing in sight. His mouth went dry and he felt hot. He took a drink of water before looking at the paper.

Dear Bucky,

Let me know what you think of the picture. I think the enclosed tags would look good on you, if you want to wear them. I wouldn't mind a picture.

XO,

Cookie

Bucky fumbled to take his shirt off and put the tags on before taking a blurry picture. He looked at his phone, dissatisfied with his selfie skills, or lack of, and spent an hour before he was happy with the results. Now he had to figure out how to print it without asking for help, or find someone who could help and keep a secret from Sam. Steve was worse with tech than he was and he knew Nat or Sharon would make a big deal. As he went down the list in his head he wondered if Cookie would mind if he attached it to an email.

Bucky sighed and opened up his laptop to search for directions on how to print something from his phone and looked at Starks intranet to find the closest color printer to his room.

It took half the night but he finally had a clear, color picture to send to Cookie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks rolled by quickly as Cookie whipped the Boston office into shape, much to Dylan's chagrin. She spent the days working closely with Annie, evaluating the rest of the team to see where there were weaknesses so they could work on training them all up to where they needed to be. The fact that Dylan resented her aside, he had enjoyed his "management" of this office by doing nothing but lording over the rest of the team and overusing his expense account, without paying attention to their skills or lack thereof.

Cookie made herself a note to bring up Dylan's uselessness with Nick Fury and recommend cutting him loose or transferring him to a position with less authority and responsibility. She planned to push for Annie to run this office when she left.

She was working on a full report on the office and was very glad she had moved here to see in person how things ran because she never would have known how badly Dylan was slacking off.

In her conclusions she pondered spending the next couple of years hopping from office to office, to do the same. It would take longer to get back to the compound than she wanted but she felt it would be the best for SHIELD/SWORD's intel apparatus, which was her job.

In the evenings she went back to her townhouse to eat alone, watch the news and read Bucky's letters. He was ever so slowly wearing her down. It wasn't hard, she missed her best friend and never stopped loving him.

Dear Cookie,

I hope you are good and haven't gotten tired of hearing from me. I haven't heard anything back so I don't know if you're reading them or just tossing them in the fire.

Life is mostly back to normal. Fury yelled at us for 3 hours about you this morning, he's not happy you're gone. Everyone misses you. Maybe not Nat and Sharon but at least they are finally leaving me alone.

Tony keeps bitching about his favorite cookies but I know he misses you.

Steve is in his element, being the disapproving dad to all us difficult kids. If he doesn't get over himself I might have to kick his ass.

Sam misses you. I know he talks to you on the phone a lot and he's irritating as hell, making sure to let me know it's my fault you left, like I didn't already know that. I wish I knew how to fix things and make you want to come home but I'm not that bright, obviously, so I'll keep writing until you tell me to stop.

Fury is being even more of an impossible prick than usual. He cancelled all leave and has us doing extra training and chores around the compound like we're grounded teenagers. It's exhausting but it keeps me busy between missions. Doesn't stop me from thinking about you every day.

I understand that you might not want to wear my dog tags but if you don't want them could you send them back? They're all I have left of my past.

I hope to hear from you soon.

All my love,

JBB

Like every night since she started reading Bucky's letters, Cookie fell asleep clutching his dog tags and that nights letter to her chest.

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