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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Into The Unknown, Part 10

First

Grocery store trips were weird. Tim had never taken them before, and now here he was buying food for the three of them regularly. He’d thought it would be harder, for some reason. But, no, it was just boring.

Tim rolled his eyes as Damian pointed to the nearest brightly colored object -- a bag of Not Cheetos… holy shit they were called Fritos this wasn’t allowed he has never been so vehemently against anything in his life.

He sighed as the baby yelled at him for the bag. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have gone in the chip aisle.

He looked down at the kid in front of him with an apologetic smile.

“No, kiddo. See, I would love to get that for you but, unfortunately, Mari said I can’t buy you any more random sweets. Blame her, not me.”

Damian was, apparently, too smart for his tricks because he banged his fist on the front of the cart and babbled at him angrily.

Tim sighed and leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool metal of the cart, thinking.

And then he got back up and handed the kid the bag of chips. Damian didn't know that it was food, Tim was pretty sure, and he had nothing against… ‘Fritos’ (outside of their name, obviously). So, why not? He could eat them. It was better than dealing with a tantrum in the middle of a store, at least.

Damian lit up and hugged the bag to his chest as if it was a soft stuffed animal and not a plastic bag filled with air and maybe a few chips.

Tim smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and then continued on his way, scanning over the list idly.

Oh. Marinette had added something. He squinted down at her messy scrawl, bringing it close to his face as if he could will the words to make sense.

And it worked. Ha. Take that everyone who didn’t believe in him.

Okay. So, she needed ‘pads’.

Sure. No problem.

He walked over to the aisle.

Hm. Okay. There might be a tiny little problem.

Why were there so many different brands? And sizes?

He stared around at them all helplessly. Sure, he had glimpsed the box a few times but he certainly hadn’t paid it much mind -- it wasn’t for him, why would he?! But now he was standing in an entire aisle full of products and there were way too many of them. And why did they all look the same? Shit!

He looked at Damian, who was biting the edge of the chip bag and giggling about the crinkling noises it made. But, once Tim turned his gaze on him, he looked up at him with wide eyes, attentive.

“Any chance you know what type Mari uses?” Tim joked softly.

Damian popped off the chip bag so he could babble at him. It was very helpful.

He considered, very briefly, just standing there in the aisle with the same helpless expression until some kind-hearted person took pity on him and he could avoid the embarrassment of calling Marinette at work to ask what types of pads she used… but, no, the idea of asking some random person for help was way worse. He had to just suck it up and do it.

He pulled out his phone and called Marinette. He was pretty sure it was lunchtime for her, anyways.

She picked up within a few rings, voice slightly muffled as she answered with a simple: “Problem?”

Tim didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused that her first thought when he called her was that something was wrong.

But he quickly alleviated her fears: “No, everything’s fine.”

He could hear the phone shift slightly as she assumedly went back to eating. “Right, then what is it?”

“Nothing bad, really…” Tim started awkwardly. His face reddened without his permission. “Just wanted to know what brand you used for, um, hygiene products.”

“... hyg --? Oh.” He heard her laugh at him and his face only reddened further. “What, the world's greatest detective couldn’t figure it out?”

“That’s my dad!” He mumbled a little huffily.

She snickered a little longer before finally saying: “I think the brand is called ‘Forever’ here.”

“See! You don’t even know!” He said even as he pulled down a box with the word written across it in elegant script.

“That’s because the name changed when --...” She seemed to remember she was at work -- or, at least, that there were other people around -- because she cut herself off suddenly before she could admit to being a dimension hopper in a world that likely wouldn’t even believe in the multiverse. “When… I switched brands! Yeah. Heh.”

(Tim swore he heard her mumble ‘technically not even a lie’ but he wasn’t quite sure.)

He started to put it in the basket but then he paused.

“There’s a lot of sizes.”

“Um… I think a four?”

“Yeah, no, they have letters here.”

“Fuck, right, hate that, um… D, I guess.”

He switched out the Cs he had gotten and smiled as Damian reached for him. He clearly wanted out of the cart -- Tim wondered, vaguely, if it was uncomfortable -- but that wasn’t going to happen so he decided to distract him:

“Want to talk to Mari, kiddo?”

The kid blinked up at him a few times before lighting up. “Mar-ree!”

He pressed the phone to Damian’s ear with one hand until the kid took it himself and then motioned for him to go ahead. “Takalam maeaha.”

“... marhaba?” Damian said, giving Tim a look that seemed to scream ‘you’re weird for making me talk into a box’.

Marinette must have said something back, because the kid’s eyes went wide. Damian looked around wildly for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out where Marinette was, before he realized that her voice was coming from the box. He gasped a little and pressed the phone against his ear even harder and started to ‘talk’ to her. It was a weird mix of Arabic and a few English syllables thrown together haphazardly, Tim was just glad he was learning.

Tim started on his way through the store again, sure he wasn’t going to get his phone back anytime soon.

He’d gotten all the necessities and they had money left in the weekly budget...

He headed to the kid’s aisle, head tipping from side to side as he considered what to get. Maybe a new book? Damian had taken a liking to them, though Tim was pretty sure that was more because he thought the English language sounded kind of funny rather than any real passion for stories.

He picked up a book about letters and looked down at Damian. He sounded annoyed now.

He looked at Tim with an annoyed expression and shook Tim’s poor phones a few times. “Mar-ree!”

Ah. She must have hung up because her break was over.

How was he supposed to explain how phones worked to a baby? Especially since he knew phones so intimately thanks to his time working on the model he was using.

He gently pulled the phone from the kid’s hands. “Mari’s at work. You can see her later.”

“Bu…” Damian pouted.

Damn it. How dare the kid be cute? Tim was about five seconds away from walking to Marinette’s job so the kid would smile again.

He hesitated before reaching behind himself and grabbing the first soft thing his hands landed on. He pulled it out and squinted at the stuffed cat. It was cute, he supposed, but he didn’t know why it was rainbow-colored.

Whatever.

He offered the plush to Damian and the kid seemed to instantly forget about the phone.

(And the chips. But the kid had put it in his mouth so it looked like Tim was buying that anyway.)

He pressed a kid to the top of his head and then continued on his way.

… and that was when he heard it:

Haha, someone got called a DILF.

… wait a minute… he was the only person with a kid around here…

His head whipped around so fast he would have gotten whiplash if he was old -- which he wasn’t -- to see two girls in their mid teens. And they were definitely looking at him. They even tried to hide behind the next aisle in order to avoid his gaze once they realized he had heard them.

Tim didn’t know what to do about this. Someone had actually called him...

He was 19! He couldn’t be that yet! How?! No!

And, sure, the logical part of him knew they were technically right. He was attractive (he hoped) and, when it came to the ‘dad’ thing… if Damian never got his memories back, then Tim would pretty much be the only dad that he had ever known. He would be a dad.

But, again, he was 19-years-old, he didn’t want to think about this.

So, to ward off the impending crisis, he looked around the aisle he was in wildly for some kind of ‘kid’ thing.

He found some marshmallow guns and grabbed two. Then he got some marshmallows because those weren’t included for some reason. Whatever.

He looked down at the basket, aware that he was now over budget, and eventually decided to put back the book. Who needs to learn?

(Besides, if Damian really wanted to just hear people talk, Tim could totally do that. He had so many random facts in his head thanks to random rabbit holes he had gone down while sleep-deprived, he could just rant about those if the kid wanted.)

So, he checked out, loaded up with all the bags and the baby, and started walking home.

… he was totally going to learn to drive. Even if Gotham streets were safer -- especially when he had a baby on him -- it was a pain to carry all the groceries even the few blocks to their apartment. Literally. The bags dug into his skin. He swore he could taste blood.

But he had an end goal in sight, so he went faster than usual that day.

He set up the guns, leaving Marinette’s on the kitchen table and then took a seat on the couch with Damian. They spent the few remaining hours playing games (Tim was pretty sure, he had absolutely no clue what Damian was saying but the kid seemed to have fun and that was all that mattered) and watching TV.

Tim heard his door click and looked up.

He quickly reached for the marshmallow gun and turned to point it at the door.

Damian watched him in silence, perfectly still as if he understood that this was something that they needed to be quiet for.

Usually, this kind of worried Tim. They always gave Damian to Kaalki and Tikki when they sparred, but Damian had always been… shockingly well-behaved? Not in the good way, either, he was far too still and quiet. Tim was starting to suspect that, at the very least, the kid remembered the first year of his life in the League. He hoped that the trauma would fade away with time. Kids forget things that they experienced as babies when they grew older, Tim himself couldn’t remember anything from before he was three, so hopefully this would be the same.

… but he really wanted to get Marinette with a marshmallow gun. So, he swallowed down the slight bit of anxiety rising in his chest and looked through the scope as Marinette finally managed to open the finicky door.

Damian’s eyes widened and he made a quiet ‘ah!’ sound.

Tim jumped at the sudden sound and pulled the trigger. The marshmallow gun made a fmpf sound as it fired off the shot.

The marshmallow bounced off of Marinette’s forehead harmlessly. Because, y’know, it was a marshmallow.

She blinked a few times and then knelt down to pick up the fallen marshmallow. She scanned it over a few times, eyes narrowed.

Tim hardly paid attention to her, looking over at Damian. The kid looked very confused, eyes darting between the gun and Marinette and the marshmallow on the floor repeatedly as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

And then he flopped back on the sofa with a quiet whimpering sound.

Marinette and Tim frowned at each other. He could see confusion and concern knitting her eyebrows together, meanwhile all he had was dread coiling itself in his gut. Because… what if Damian did remember his first year with the League? Or, even worse, what if he would slowly regain all his memories? No kid deserved that...

Tim felt something hit the side of his head, snapping him out of his daze. Oh. Marinette had grabbed the other gun and promptly gotten her revenge.

Damian didn’t see this, at least, just staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Marinette sat on Damian’s other side, gently picking him up and nuzzling her nose against his cheek. Then, she sat him back down between them, sidling close so the kid could curl into her side. Tim, after a few seconds, scooted closer as well.

“Want some marshmallows? They’re yummy,” she tried hesitantly.

She shot one into her hand and, after tearing it in half just in case, handed it to Damian.

The kid took a hesitant bite, still looking a little put out, but then he gasped a little. He happily chewed away at the marshmallow, the event easily wiped from his mind in favor of the yummy thing in his hand.

Tim sighed in relief, reaching behind himself for the marshmallow bag so they wouldn’t have to shoot any more. Just in case.

“Quick thinking,” he said, which was kind of a compliment if you squinted.

She smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s what I’m known for.”

There was a few seconds before she sighed just a little, gently combing her fingers through Damian’s hair. The kid reached out and gripped Tim’s shirt in his hand, surely getting it messed up thanks to the marshmallow on his hands but whatever, and tried to tug him closer. He obliged. Marinette rested her head on his shoulder absently.

“What would I do without you?” He mused.

“Probably starve on the streets,” she said bluntly.

He scoffed a little. “The minute this kid goes to sleep I’m going to shoot another marshmallow at you.”

“You can try. Only reason you even got me last time was ‘cause I didn’t know you were going to do it.”

“The element of surprise is a totally valid tactic!” He pretended to whine.

She grinned at him. “But it won’t work again.”

He wrapped an arm around her lazily. “We’ll see.”

~~~~~

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#pads..... of paper??#nearly made tim go #do with this information what you will #into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #red robin #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug

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gojo-x-reader · 4 years

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Not So Special Now

Relationship(s): F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Warnings: canon-typical violence

Tags: fluff (at the end), reader-focused

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~4k

Request: “hello there, i love ur soulmate and marriage life hc 🥺 can you make scenario/hc/drabble whatever u prefer where his fem/gn so is also a sorcerer and gets hurt/injured on a mission? thank you!”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Your boyfriend, Satoru, asked you. His hands were on your biceps, giving it a worried, yet comforting squeeze.

“Yes, Satoru,” you answered, a little annoyed at how he was treating you. It’s been several years since either of you were in high school; this wasn’t your first mission.

“I can’t help but worry, you know. It’s your first ever special grade assignment.”

“Just because I’m not the same rank as you, Mr. Special Grade, doesn’t mean I’m weak. Besides, there are two others going so I’m not doing this alone.”

“I know, I know.” Satoru pressed his lips gently onto your forehead, then gazed into your eyes lovingly. In a rare instance while on the job, his blindfold was replaced with dark sunglasses. You reached up to shift them down, allowing you to gaze into his bright blue eyes. They were breathtaking no matter how many times you saw them. You moved your hands from his glasses to his shoulders, forcing him down so you could reach up to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promised.

The two of you embraced one more time before you joined your other group members for the mission. You turned back and waved at him as the three of you entered the car to be driven to the location for your mission.

“Sure wish Gojo-san was coming with us,” one of them mused. “He could handle this mission single-handedly and we could just stay home.” He sighed deeply, then put in headphones and stared out the window.

“Why isn’t he taking this mission?” your other group member asked. She stared at you, eager to know.

You had just met these two today (not even knowing their names, except that they were both Grade 1 sorcerers like you) and you weren’t sure how well this mission would go. “Well,” you began, “for one, he works best alone. Second, Satoru fights best when he’s away from civilians.”

The girl hummed, then crossed her arms in thought. The three of you awkwardly rode in silence for about five minutes, before the girl grabbed your arm suddenly. “Soooo, how long have you been dating Gojo Satoru?” She asked eagerly. There was something about her that seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You weren’t sure why this was any business of someone you just met, but you decided to indulge her to hopefully make this awkward car ride, well, less awkward.

“Two years, almost three,” you answered. The two of you had known each other since high school, but it wasn’t until almost four years ago that you had reconnected after you moved back to Tokyo, and almost three years ago when you started dating. To this day you still had no clue why he would get a crush on you over all people. There were much prettier girls he had spent more time with, why you?

“Annnnd? A ring soon?” She gushed, gripping your arm harder.

You shrugged. Satoru and you had discussed marriage at some point, but both of you were busy at the moment, especially with Ryomen Sukuna being somewhat revived into the world. While Yuuji was still technically “dead” to others, Satoru had trusted you enough to tell you about how his student had pretty much been revived from the dead. On your days off, you often visited your boyfriend and helped out with Yuuji’s training regime. He was a nice kid, despite his circumstances and being thrown into the jujutsu world suddenly.

The girl let go of your arm and got out her phone, furiously typing to someone. “Oh, my little sister won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, my sister Momo goes to Kyoto. She’s pretty close with another girl, Kasumi, who I consider almost like another younger sister. She was super excited to meet Gojo-san a week ago. She’s like a superfan of him or something. I like to indulge her sometimes. I think she even made a fan club for Gojo-san or something. Anyways, Momo, even though she’s friends with Kasumi, she often gets annoyed with her talk about Gojo-san.”

You vaguely remember Satoru mentioning a girl from Kyoto that asked him for a picture. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for your boyfriend to be asked to take pictures with, from the jujutsu world or from civilians; he had devastatingly good looks, so you couldn’t blame any of the people who asked for pictures. Besides, you knew his heart belonged to you and you only, so you were fine with others recognizing his allure.

“Oh, Kasumi’s calling me,” the girl said. She answered her phone, only for a younger voice to scream over the speaker. It was loud enough that you could hear it. Your teammate held her phone away from her ear.

“What do you mean he has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, come on Kasumi. You know how handsome he is. Besides, he’s like, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine in December,” you confirmed.

“Way too old for you, ma’am,” the girl relayed to Kasumi.

“I don’t like him like that , Sumi-san! I j-just really admire him, okay! W-Who wouldn’t? World’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer in all.”

“Mhm. Anyway, I’ve got a mission today with the said girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. Want me to get you an autograph?” Sumi joked.

“...Could you?”

You let out a tiny laugh. This girl was funny, so you decided to humor her and leaned toward the phone. “One autograph for Kasumi?”

“M-Miwa Kasumi!” the voice on the phone squeaked out. She told you what kanji made up her name as you rummaged for a scrap piece of paper and pen from your bag. You made out the autograph, laughing a bit as you handed it to Sumi.

After you told her you signed an autograph for her, Kasumi said goodbye, hanging up the phone before Sumi could reply goodbye back. She seemed embarrassed about the ordeal.

“You were right, she seems like a good kid.”

“Kasumi is nice. She really balances out how serious my little sister Momo is,” Sumi responded.

For the rest of the car ride, you and Sumi chatted. Apparently, this was also her first Special Grade mission, as well as her first mission after graduating from Kyoto. Their other group member was also from Kyoto; he was two years Sumi’s senior. His name was Takahashi Daisuke. She didn’t know much about him since he tended to keep to himself. But she did know this wasn’t his first Special Grade mission. That relieved you substantially since you were nervous about this mission (as much as you didn’t want to admit to Satoru).

Eventually, the roads transformed from paved to just dirt. The driver turned onto a road on a hill, then began briefing the three of you on your mission. This was a Special Grade, suspected to be awakened by a Sukuna finger. This was just based on speculation, since the last Special Grade to pop up was from a Sukuna finger as well. The Special Grade had taken over an abandoned shrine, supposedly terrorizing the local village just down the hill (which had been evacuated just hours before). As the driver parked the car, the three of you exited the car. The air was crisp, with a distinct chill in the air. You could sense a particularly strong cursed energy in the premises, on par with Satoru’s cursed energy. You shuddered; this was not going to be an easy task.

The driver placed a curtain around the area, the sky darkening. It only made the situation seem even more grave. There was something in your gut telling you to run, not from being scared of the Special Grade, but because something bad was going to happen.

Sumi grabbed a wand from her belt. Her family was a pretty small sorcerer family on her mother’s side, as she had told you in the car. She and her sister have cursed techniques similar to “witches”; hers involved spells while her sister’s involved levitating a broom, among other objects.

Your cursed techniques, however, involved nature. There was a reason why you were selected specifically for this mission; the shrine was in the middle of the forest, the perfect place for you to go wild. Cities like Tokyo were incredibly constraining for you to use your cursed techniques, so you almost exclusively were assigned missions out in the country where nature was plentiful.

Neither you nor Sumi knew what Daisuke’s cursed technique was, but you assumed it was pretty strong considering he had been on missions with Special Grades before.

The mission started off fine. The three of you approached the shrine. It wasn’t particularly impressive, nothing that you would expect to house a Special Grade curse. The stone torii at the entrance was standing tall, unbothered by neither age nor the moss and vines growing on it. The shrine itself, however, was crumbling. One of the pillars holding up the roof was destroyed, so the roof was lopsided. The shimenawa knots were cut in half, the ends completely frayed. Definitely not a good sign.

After crossing the torii , you felt the Special Grade’s presence. It was overwhelming, unlike anything else you had experienced before. It possessed near-equal amounts of cursed energy as Satoru, but unlike your boyfriend, it held malicious intent within its cursed energy. To your left, Sumi was shaking. You held out a shaky hand onto her shoulder and squeezed. While you yourself didn’t feel confident about this mission now, you had a duty as the oldest member of the group here to be strong, for their sake.

The shrine began to shake, then the roof was suddenly blown off. You used your cursed technique to form a barrier of tree roots that erupted from the ground. Slabs of wood hit the roots, then bounced off. After the rain of wood subsided, you controlled the roots back into the ground in their original position.

You finally got a good look at the Special Grade curse. It was humanoid, but only in form. Its flesh was midnight blue, with eyes covering every centimeter of its body. Great, it had no blind spots. The curse had no apparent mouth, yet you were able to hear it let out an intimidating roar.

Daisuke made the first strike. He quickly pointed a handgun at the Special Grade and pulled the trigger. Out came a burst of his own cursed energy instead of a bullet. The blow just grazed the Special Grade enough for it to let out a screech of pain. Interesting, so this was his cursed energy. You wondered if it was limited to guns, or if he could apply it to a bow as well and use his cursed energy for arrows. You’d have to ask him later after this mission was completed.

It was apparent after Daisuke revealed his cursed technique that all of you were primarily distance fighters. There wasn’t much Sumi could do if her cursed technique focused on spells through her wand apparatus and Daisuke seemed to only have a gun on him. So, that meant you had to switch to a melee approach.

You weren’t the biggest fan of hand to hand combat. You weren’t very strong, preferring to assist from a distance. Recently, Satoru has been helping you learn new ways of fighting in close quarters. You decided to take the risk and make an attempt at using this still relatively new technique. You reached out your hands, summoning leaves from the trees. They surrounded your fists like boxing gloves, your cursed energy reinforcing the leaves to be almost as hard as the bark from the trees they came from.

You sprinted toward the Special Grade, preparing to land a blow. As you reared back for a punch, the Special Grade disappeared from in front of you. Then you felt a blow land on your back and you were sent through the forest until a particularly thick tree stopped your projectile body. Luckily, you reacted quickly enough to reinforce your front with cursed energy. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, you probably would’ve been knocked out immediately.

You picked yourself up from the ground, but the world was spinning. You leaned against a tree to collect your thoughts and rest a bit. The Special Grade was insanely fast and had no blind spots. You were panicking; this was well out of your skillset. Perhaps Daisuke was right; Satoru should’ve joined in on this mission. But you knew that wasn’t possible, as he also had his own Special Grade mission to handle today.

You brought a hand up to your face and gave yourself a hard smack. This was no time to doubt yourself or panic. You had two comrades out there fighting a Special Grade curse alone. There was no doubt that the Special Grade would notice you if you tried to rejoin the fight, at least on the ground. Your best bet would be to get the high ground; there would be fewer eyes on the top half, so the chances of you being noticed would be less than if you arrived by foot.

Okay, you had an idea. Now, to get an idea of how the fight was going. You kneeled down to the ground and placed your hand onto the ground, closing your eyes. You sent a minimal, hardly detectable pulse of cursed energy toward the fight through the ground. From what nature informed you, the fight was mostly one-sided in favor of the Special Grade. Daisuke was pretty beat up, and Sumi wasn’t in good shape either.

You got up then hurriedly began climbing the nearest tree. As you climbed up, you manipulated the bark to form grooves for you to place your hands and feet on. As you reached a decent height, you created a bridge with the overlapping tree branches sturdy enough for your weight. You sprinted across the bridge, ignoring your double vision. You definitely had a concussion, but now was not the time for you to worry about that. You didn’t wanna lose your comrades on this mission. Not again.

You wiped the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. In your final year of Tokyo High, your two classmates were killed right before your eyes on a mission. You escaped out of pure luck, but was determined to get stronger to avenge their deaths. If you let those two die… well, then, that meant you hadn’t gotten strong enough to protect anyone else.

Once you were just out of sight range of the cursed spirit, you closed your eyes to sense the battle again. Sumi was sitting on the ground, back to a tree as she watched the fight between Daisuke and the Special Grade. She was barely conscious, and it seemed like she had lost a lot of blood. You had an idea, but in order for it to work, you needed her help.

Using thin vines, you sent a message within her sight: I am still alive. I’m going to trap the Special Grade curse with branches. Use a fire spell on it when it’s bound.

All you could hope was that she was able to read the message and had enough cursed energy to cast the spell. You began moving branches from distant trees close to the Special Grade, as fast as possible without your cursed energy being detected. Once they were close enough, you waited for the right moment.

As Daisuke finally landed a hit with his cursed energy, moving the curse to the center of the shrine remnants, you launched your attack. The branches extended as fast as you could make them move. The hit Daisuke landed had temporarily slowed the Special Grade, enough for your branches to immobilize it. As the branches gripped the curse, Sumi sent a fire spell toward it, just as planned.

The branches (and the cursed spirit) caught on fire. But something was wrong; normally, you could extract cursed energy from a curse with your cursed technique to exorcise, but that wasn’t happening. Was it resisting? You felt a tug on the branches.

Without thinking, you acted on your own. You re-equipped the leaves cursed technique, as you jumped from the trees above. As gravity brought you closer to the Special Grade, you reared back to prepare the punch you had wanted to introduce it to earlier. As your fist landed on the curse, you allowed the leaves to leave your fist, sending it into the curse’s body. The leaves caught on fire before they entered the curse, imploding it.

So, you managed to exorcise the Special grade. But, doing so took all of your cursed energy and you had no more left to cushion your fall. Luckily, you managed to adjust your fall so that you slid on your stomach parallel to the ground instead of falling headfirst. It still hurt, and you definitely broke a few ribs doing that.

You somehow had enough energy to turn yourself onto your back, looking up at the starry night sky as the curtain was released. Your first Special Grade mission. Everyone lived and you exorcised it without Satoru’s help. Ha. He would be so proud of you.

You began to fall into unconsciousness right as you felt familiar arms lift you up.

When you woke up, you were in Shoko’s infirmary. There was a thin blanket covering your bottom half. Suddenly the events came back to you.

You sat up, gasping for air. Where were Sumi and Daisuke?

“You might want to lay back down,” a familiar voice told you. “Shoko healed you, but the pain might still be there.”

You did as the voice said, laying back at the elevated position you woke up in. You look over and blinked a few times, seeing your boyfriend sitting in a chair next to your bed. He was in his work uniform, including his blindfold. You winced as you felt a pain in your chest; Satoru was right, there still was residual pain.

“I exorcised a Special Grade,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m proud of you.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, giving you a soft smile, showing off his tiny dimples. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he lectured, “However, what you did was risky and crazy.”

“Aren’t you the one who says that jujutsu sorcerers have to be crazy to survive?” you argued.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between crazy and throwing your life away.”

“You saw that?” you asked, much more awake than you were a few seconds ago.

“I hurried as fast as I could with my own mission to come assist you if you needed. I got there right as you pulled that stunt of yours.”

You pulled your hand from his and placed your face in both of your hands, embarrassed that he saw you launch yourself from several meters high, use up all of your cursed energy, then make a hard landing onto the ground.

“How’s the other two?” you asked, refusing to move your face from your hands.

“Alive and doing well. You’re the most beat-up out of everyone.”

You removed your hands, clasping them together in your lap. “Thank goodness…”

“There wasn’t a Sukuna finger either,” Satoru reported to you. “The villagers’ fear of the shrine must have caused it to grow to a Special Grade. Now, come on. Shoko said you could come home once you woke up.” Satoru stood up, then scooped you up from the bed. You screamed in protest, now wide awake.

“Wha--Put me down!”

“No can do, honey. Doctor’s orders. Nothing strenuous for the next week.”

“Satoru, I don’t think walking counts as strenuous!”

He smiled his signature shit-eating grin, then gave you a kiss on your forehead. No fair, he knew forehead kisses were your weakness. You melted into his arms at how tender his kiss was, now docile and less likely to argue with him.

In a flash, he teleported the two of you to his apartment, setting you on the bed in front of him. After placing you on the bed, he yanked off his blindfold and began rummaging through his dresser, looking for a set of his clothes for you to wear. He tossed the shirt and pants toward you, not even bothering to turn around while you changed. You’d been together for so long (or at least, it felt like a long time) that there wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing about changing in front of each other.

You winced while lifting your hands up to take off your shirt, so Satoru was by your side in an instant, helping you take off your shift without much pain. He even helped you out of your bra and put on his shirt.

“You don’t need me to help you with the pants, do you?” he teased.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you replied, standing up and shuffling out of your pants. Satoru’s pants were much too long for you, so you had to roll not only the waistband but also the cuffs so that they didn’t constantly drag on the ground. Not like you minded doing that; there was just something about his clothes that was infinitely more comforting than your own, and he knew that more than anyone else.

As you adjusted the pants, Satoru left the bedroom to head toward the kitchen, no doubt to start cooking some of your favorite foods. You laid down on your shared bed, happy to be home. It was a long day (Days? How long were you even unconscious?) and you were glad to have such a caring boyfriend, even if he was being a little annoying about this.

About an hour later, Satoru came into the bedroom with a tray of food. He wouldn’t let you even touch the chopsticks, insisting on feeding you food because he didn’t want you to “strain yourself.” You thought he was just being a little too overprotective, but you allowed him to feed you anyway. The look of satisfaction on his face was just too cute for you to deny him this tiny pleasure.

After dinner, you immediately wanted to go to bed. Satoru quickly ate his portion of dinner then changed out of his work clothes into something much more comfortable to sleep in. He joined you under the covers, using his cursed energy to turn off the lights. You felt his arms gently snake their way around your waist, pressing you into his front. You sighed in contentment; he was warm, but not too warm.

After a few seconds of silence, you piped up, “Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, just behind your ear. “Anything for you, my love,” he breathed onto your neck. You could feel him smiling gently. “Maybe we should just get married.”

You grumbled something, not even quite sure what you said or even what he said completely. Before sleep overtook you, you mumbled out one last final “I love you,” incredibly happy to be in your boyfriend’s arms at the moment.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

___________________________________________________

Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent.

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put.

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here.

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this.

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.”

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.”

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them.

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be.

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had.

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham.

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock.

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection.

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad.

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size.

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl.

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt.

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh.

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement.

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.”

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers.

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20

#you bet your ass marinette grows up to kick ass and take names #does the summary fit the fic? not really but none of my summaries do #jasonette july #jasonette #how do you tag platonic ships #platonic!jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #miraculous ladybug #dcu #innocence #child!marinette

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 17

This is my @wackydrabbles post for week 87. The prompt is bolded. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Drake and some language.

*I was in a silly mood and this turned into a dumpster fire lol and it feels very rushed but I was trying to meet the word count. There may be a little bit of plot in this.

Word count: 1999

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Liam sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress; one leg bent upright with the other extended crookedly out in front of him. Half of a bottle of Don Julio dangled loosely from a hand settled on his knee while two shiny gold rings encircled the pinky tip of his other.

In a fit of anger late last night, he searched for and consumed the first bottle of alcohol he came across in the liquor cabinet. He had no intentions of getting hammered or even a little drunk; Liam just needed something to take the edge off the hurt. Not that he for one second believed a word Riley told him before she walked out and boarded a red-eye commercial flight back to the States.

As Liam pondered her abrupt departure in the early hours of the morning, one thing was for sure: He'd never been in love before, but what he felt for Riley was real -- and reciprocated -- that, "no," she spewed from her mouth when asked if she loved him was a lie.

But why? That was the question he just couldn't figure out.

Having racked his brain for hours and with the sun finally coloring in the darkness of his chambers, Liam set aside his drink and lifted himself off the ground. Every thought that consumed him for the last several hours was riddled with putting the pieces together of why she actually left and why she felt she couldn't tell him the truth. Nothing made sense, yet ruminating alone in his room until he figured it out wasn't going to solve anything; the only way to get to the bottom of this was to retrace Riley's steps from the time she left the ball to when he made his way up to join her a little later.

Stumbling to the bathroom -- mostly from exhaustion and perhaps a little drunker than he realized -- Liam stripped off the tuxedo he wore the prior evening and took a quick shower before heading down to the security office.

-----------

Riley's heavily drooping eyelids popped wide open when the plane shook from another vigorous tremor of turbulence. Gripping the armrests on both sides of her seat, she hesitated to peek out the window but was relieved when she saw the billowy waters of the Pacific had transformed into small, mosaic blocks of land covered by a shadow of the nearly setting sun.

When the aircraft settled again, Riley reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone to check the time, grateful to be landing soon. She planned to go straight home, sink into her bed, and sleep the rest of her life away. Maybe wake up every once in a while to sob again before going back to sleep. Whatever Riley decided to do, she hated Madeleine, she hated Tyler, and she hated telling Liam she didn't love him; the more Riley thought about the stunned look on his face when she said it, the more nauseous her stomach felt.

And the nausea was getting worse.

Riley caught the eye of a nearby stewardess and waved her over; she needed ginger ale, and she needed it fast.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I … I need, ginger ale, please." She asked through ragged breaths.

"Let me check and see if we have more." Riley nodded appreciatively.

"Hey. Don't I know you from somewhere?" A relatively large guy in the center seat, whose sweaty arm flab had been lodged in Riley's shoulder since takeoff, asked. Oh shit! Riley cupped a tight hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously; the last thing she wanted was to be recognized.

Or vomit.

While the stewardess searched the service cart for the requested drink, the gentleman's eyes enlarged. "Wait a minute. Yeah! You're that little gal who married some king, with ..." he snapped his fingers before adding in his thick Texan drawl, "the monkey and hookers and shit. Wow, my fiance wants to have a wedding just like yours." He held his hand out to her. "The names Beaver Calhoun, mayor of Slippery Nip, Texas. I guess you could say we're both royals, huh?"

Riley lowered her hand slightly; she was past the point of ginger ale helping, and this guy was blocking her way out. "Beaver, I need you to move."

He stroked his chin in thought. "Well, I don't know, Queenie. I'm pretty content with my life there in Slippery Nip, Not really lookin' to uproot."

"No!' Riley's strained voice responded forcefully, "move out of the way--" She tried to fight it, but her head flung forward and everything came out with her last word.

Beaver looked down at his shirt and quirked a brow. "That's gonna leave a stain."

=============

On the second floor of a run-down Motel 6, just off the beaten path in Las Vegas, Drake tossed in the last of his clothes and airline tickets in a duffle bag and zipped it. Stepping over to the window, he pulled aside the tattered curtains to check if the airport's shuttle van had arrived yet. Disappointed, he grumbled to himself, "Where the hell are you? I'm ready to get the fuck out of here."

The past week had been intense -- well, frankly, the entire month had been nothing short of shit balls. Five weeks ago, Drake landed in Las Vegas for Liam's bachelor party and won big money at the casino, only to have it all pissed away on some old, decrepit hooker who stole his wallet, cell phone, dick health, and what little joy he had in the world. Liam left with a sexy ass wife, and all Drake got was the false claim of fathering triplets and his scowling face on the front cover of the National Enquirer with Dr. Ethan Ramsey detailing the entire sordid journey from pre-surgical rooster rot to the aftercare.

He made a quick $500 for the story, in which he badly needed the money, considering he couldn't leave Vegas until the paternity test results came back. It was enough for his lodging, a couple cans of Beenie-Weenies and a few boxes of pepperoni Hot Pockets; his stomach felt like oil sludge at this point. But as a joke, Leo had sent a box of Ding-Dongs, so it wasn't all bad.

The rotary phone in his room rang out, and he answered the call from the front desk, which let him know transportation had arrived. Drake grabbed his bag, flicked a cockroach off of it, and exited his room into the enclosed hallway.

After stepping onto the elevator and hitting the down button, another person strolled on in a black leather mini-skirt, white see-through halter top, and a pair of fishnet stockings that he'd recognize anywhere.

"You!" He growled at the chain-smoking hooker, backing her up into the corner. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? And I WANT my wallet and cell phone back, now!" He hovered menacingly over the much smaller woman.

"No offense, but I'm not interested in giving them back to you," Pinquee Kittee sneered before reaching into her bra for mace and spraying him directly in the eyes. The rapid burn gave way to her next act of defense when a screaming, blinded Drake was doubled over by a swift karate kick to his newly transplanted organ. "Hiiiiyah!"

Drake cupped himself in anguish, fell to the floor, and slumped over as the elevator doors opened. Pinquee Kittee grabbed his duffle bag and peeked down the hallway to make sure no one was around before making her getaway.

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

Just outside of the palace's security office, Liam knocked on the door several times without an answer. It was rare that the King would personally pay a visit. Usually, he would call Bastien and have the head guard look into any issues. With him gone, this just felt like something Liam needed to do in person.

After several more knocks, Liam reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to let himself inside. The lights were off, with only a few CCTV screens displaying various images of places within and surrounding the palace. Finding the light switch on the wall beside the door, Liam flipped them on, and his mouth fell agape at what he saw.

"What the hell happened in here?" He shouted as his hands shot to his hips, glaring around the room.

On the floor was a maze of beer cans, whiskey bottles, remnants of silly string, a five-gallon bucket of butter next to a slip-n-slide, a voodoo doll with Liam's face on it, and half-a-dozen guards passed out.

A furious Liam made his way through, kicking the feet of guardsmen as he stepped along. "Get up! All of you!"

One-by-one, they slowly roused until they realized it was the King in their presence, then they jumped to their feet at attention.

"Would someone like to explain what the actual fuck happened in here?" Liam wasn't one to swear in front of his staff, but there was no way he could hold back after walking in on this scene. His glowering eyes shifted with expectancy from one man to the next, waiting for an answer, until someone finally called out, "We threw Rogers a going away party for his last night on the job, Your Majesty."

"And you thought having a wild party while you were ON DUTY to protect 400 members of the nobility for a major event was the time to do that?

The guard shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I admit we weren't as attentive as we should have been last night ..." he pointed behind Liam, "but Prince Leo came by and suggested we kick it up a notch."

Liam turned around and caught Leo slithering along the edge of the wall toward the door. "Leo!"

The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, then flickered his eyes and jolted his body as if he were just waking up. Leo looked at Liam, acting surprised to see him. "Liam? Is that you? H-How did I get in here?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Leo."

"What?” Leo shrugged innocently. “You know what I think happened. I must have been sleepwalking again. You know how I get when I watch The Duchess before bed." He cocked his head introspectively at his brother. “And you do look like the Duke from that movie, you handsome devil you?” He grinned impishly.

Liam stared blankly at his older brother for a few seconds, then turned around to face the others gathered around. "Who's in charge here?"

When one of the men raised a hand, the King stepped up to him and explained, "Alright, I need you to pull up security footage from last night. I want to review everything from the moment I stepped outside the ballroom to meet the Queen around 9:30, and where she went after I went back into the ballroom."

If this were any other day, Liam would have fired every one of them on the spot and sent Leo to Antarctica, but he only had one concern: Finding out what happened to Riley.

As the guard typed in his computer to pull up footage from last night, Leo stepped up to Liam, who was hovering over the guard's shoulder with anticipation. "What's going on?"

Never taking his eyes off the screen, he responded. "Riley went back to Las Vegas last night."

"Wh-Why? What happened?"

Liam let out a breath. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Leo remained silent before giving his little brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and watching with him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as different camera footages were switched to follow Riley walking from the main staircase, through several passages, and finally ending with the corridor outside of his quarters.

"Stop!" Liam leaned in closer as the guard paused the video; his entire body tensed up at what he saw.

"Is that ..." Leo scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Madeleine."

___________

Tags: @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthingss @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @lifeaskim @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueenn

Anything with Drake:@tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @sfb123 @secretaryunpaid @masterofbluff

#fools rush in #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance #prince liam #king liam #bbrandy2002 #wackydrabbles

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mercurysstars · 3 years

Text

The Shadow Thief (part 4)

Summary: what happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing

A/n: I apologize for the late chapter! :)

"What the fuck." Peter said wide-eyed.

Peter quickly parked the car and unbutton his seatbelt. He opened the door and stepped out in front of the car. The Avengers compound was destroyed, all of the windows were busted through, the doors were broken and even a few walls were missing.

Peter felt as though his stomach was twisted into 10 knots. It was like some sort of sick joke. Could they really be gone? They were the earth's mightiest heroes, right? He clenched his fist, Peter felt tears weld up in his eyes but he never let them fall.

Y/n got out of the car and walked next to him. When she approached him, he didn't say a word, he just stood there and stared. After a few moments of silence, Y/n gave him a little nudge "Let's see if we can find anything inside."

Peter didn't say anything to acknowledge her but he followed her. Y/n stepped through the broken glass door. The electricity was cut so the elevator didn't work. She found the stairs so she began to climb.

The first floor they enter was the laboratories. They were all a wreck, it looked like they all had been scavenged through. Desks were flipped, papers were scattered, glass was everywhere.

Y/n looked over to Peter. His face was blank void of any emotions but she sensed he was still stuck in a state of shock. They needed to leave. She figured by now that who it was attacked them earlier had found where they were and sending another load of soldiers.

"Peter, where is the Avengers weaponry?" She asked. He didn't say anything or point anywhere. Y/n cursed him and herself.

Not knowing what else to do Y/n began to search through the lab to see if she could find anything that could help them. Y/n noticed a random bookshelf along the wall. What were the chances that could be a secret door?

Y/n walked over to the shelf. With all of her knowledge from cliché movies, Y/n began to pull on random books. Every time one didn't work she would throw it backward.

Finally, Y/n pulled on a book about ants. She heard a noise and the bookshelf moved backward. She mentally high-fived herself. Y/n looked over to Peter "Stay there." She told him. She figured he probably wouldn't have moved anyway.

Y/n walked down a flight of stairs and pushed open another door. When she opened the door her jaw nearly fell slack. It was a lab but 100x nicer. It felt like something out of a movie.

There were huge screens and holograms. There were long desks with pieces of different robots on them. Y/n figured this is where Tony and Bruce did their work.

There was a big cabinet labeled spider-boy. She tried to open the cabinet but it was locked. She tried again but ultimately failed. Y/n grabbed one of the screwdrivers off of the table and stuck it in the lock. She balled up her fist at the end and hit her palm against her fist. The lock gave Y/n a shock "Fuck."

The cabinet swung open revealing tons of different equipment. There was a bag at the bottom that Y/n assumed was Peters. She grabbed the bag and began to shove everything that could fit. She grabbed web fluid, web-shooters and she might have even grabbed one of his suits.

Y/n zipped up the bag a knife caught her eye on the other side of the room. She walked over to the knife. It was black with a few gold lines running through the middle. Y/n picked up then knife and a screen popped up.

A video began to play with a shaken up Tony Stark "Anyone who watches this SOS. You are in danger meet—."

The video paused and a voice interrupted "Vehicle approaching. Click to watch surveillance footage."

Y/n clicked on the button a video popped up of several SUVs pulling onto the road leading to the compound. Y/n was confused. Why would this pop-up? She looked at the corner for the date. The footage was live. She swore she felt her heart leap out of her chest.

Y/n tucked the knife in her pocket and booked it up the stairs. Peter was still where she left him and she ran over to him. "We need to go." He stared at the wall

"Peter we need to go like right now." He still didn't make a move.

Y/n decided to say fuck it and take matters into her own hand. If he didn't want to move she would make him. Y/n took a deep breath and slapped Peter as hard as she could. "Get it together."

Peter's hand flew to his cheek and he glared at her "Ow! That hurt." Peter shrieked.

"Good. We need to leave. They already found us again."

"Tony told me about a few safe houses just in case something ever did happen."

"Good enough for me." Y/n took the bag off her bag and shoved it into Peter's hands. What was he good for if not super strength.

They ran down the stairs, sometimes skipping two or three at a time. They ran through the door and to the car. Right as they got 10 feet within the car it exploded and caused them to fly backward.

"Son of a bitch." Y/n exclaimed. Her ears were ringing from the loud noise.

"That was our only ride out." Peter groaned. He was sure they were going to die. He figured he had a good enough run. He was surprised he lasted this long anyway.

"Maybe not."

Peter followed Y/n's line of sight to a motorcycle "Are you crazy?" There was no way in hell he was getting on that. He rather take his chances with the SWAT team.

Y/n gave Peter a look. One that over the few times he's meet her he's grown to know almost too well. She was going to do something risky, stupid, but not necessarily unnecessary.

Y/n gave Peter a wave before she broke into a full sprint toward the bike. She was going to get herself killed. Peter clenched his fists before running after her.

Shots began flying toward them and Y/n hopped on the bike. Peter got on the bag, she quickly started the bike and pulled off before he got the chance to argue.

After 30 minutes of riding in a random direction into the woods, Y/n pulled over. Peter unwrapped his arms from around her waist and got off the bike.

Peter walked over to a tree, bent over, and threw up. Y/n grimaced and quickly looked away. He may be strong but his stomach surely isn't. Of course, she didn't say that she figured he was occupied enough for the moment.

When Peter was done he walked over to Y/n and threw his hands up in the air "What in the actual fuck. You could've gotten us killed."

Y/n had to suppress the urge to laugh. She noticed whenever Peter got mad his face scrunched up and got red. "I just saved your ass. You surely could have stayed back there and tango with the death squad."

"Jesus Y/n. Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?" Peter shouted.

"Well actually no." He had gotten her there "My fight or flight had kicked in and that's good enough for me." She put her hands on her hips.

Peter let out a long sigh. She was crazy. Actually fucking batshit crazy. "We need to get to a safe house, and figure out a plan."

Well isn't he just a bright one? "Well, Mr. Parker be my guest." She pointed to the bike "Unless you're too scared." She challenged.

"I'm not scared." Okay so maybe he was a little scared but he wasn't going to tell Y/n that. He walked over to the motorcycle and swung his leg around. It was just like riding a Bike. Right?

Y/n swung her leg around the back of the bike and sat behind Peter. She wrapped her arms around his waist "How Are We going to get there? Does your Spidey sense show you the path to follow?" She teased.

"It doesn't work like that." He grumbled as he pulled off.

They drove for what felt like hours. Y/n was pretty sure she dozen off a few times from the lack of scenery. Her arms were starting to ache and her but were starting to get sore from driving on the gravel road.

Finally, they pulled in front of a big cabin. It was huge, it looked like a place someone would go to get away for a weekend. The cabin was surrounded by trees and behind it was a lake.

Peter turned off the bike and they both got off. They walk up the stairs to the porch. Peter punched in a few numbers. There was a camera above the door. Peter walked through the door. A voice came through a speaker "Welcome, Peter Parker."

When Y/n tried to walk through the door the voice came through again "Unauthorized personal."

Y/n looked over to Peter. He had a clueless look on his face and he shrugged. Not knowing what else to do Y/n looked at the camera "Y/n Y/l/n."

"Access granted. Welcome, Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n walked through the door "I wasn't sure that it would work." Peter laughed.

Y/n looked at Peter and narrowed her eyes "We came all the way out here when you weren't even sure if I could get into the damn safe house."

"I took a calculated risk." Peter crossed his arms.

"Oh so when you take a chance it's a calculated risk but when I do it's stupid and reckless."

"Before I take a risk I weigh all my options but when you do it's always spontaneous and mindless."

"Well, my spontaneous decisions saved your ass more times than I can count."

"Can you stop swearing for like 2 seconds?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Peter. Does my fucking swearing bother you?" Y/n seethed.

"I can't with you." Peter sighed pinching the bridge of his nose "I'm going to take a shower there should be some clothes for you in one of the rooms." He walked upstairs and out of view.

Y/n let out a long breath of air. Peter was such a stick in the mud. "Can you stop swearing?" She whispered to herself in a mock voice. God, he really did manage to get on her nerves.

Y/n finally took a chance to look around the cabin. If she could even call it that. It was nicer inside than it looked to be outside. It's looked like a normal modern house with the exception it had the Stark touch.

Y/n walked upstairs and entered one of the random rooms. It had a queen bed and a nightstand. The closet was huge and full of different clothes and shoes. She found a pair of open-fingered gloves. If she had to guess she'd say this was the scarlet witch's room.

Y/n suddenly felt dirty and decide that she needed to take a shower. She grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt she thought could maybe fit. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she hoped Peter didn't use all of the hot water.

She peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She lets the warm water run down her back. It did wonders for her sore muscles. She quickly scrubbed the rest of her body and turned off the shower.

Y/n dried off and got dressed. She stepped back into the room. She saw Wanda's bed. It looked more comfortable than it did before. It was basically calling her name. Y/n decided to say fuck it and hop in the bed. She decided whoever was trying to kill them could wait for tomorrow.

Part 5

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

#peter x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter paker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

Hot for teacher [4] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader, Dark!Peter Parker x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 7,973

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, spanking, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, mention of blood, slight praise kink, slight crying kink?, overstimulation

SUMMARY; A friend comes to your defense and Bucky finally gives in.

NOTE; Gif credit goes to @/fluturojdallandyshia! I wanna say/reiterate that Cher, reader, and Peter are in their senior/last year of school AND they are all 18 years old. I had a “late” birthday (May), so I turned 18 three weeks before I graduated. My brother had an early birthday (September), so he turned 18 like two weeks into his senior year. Peter, Cher, and reader all have early (August/September) birthdays. Any crap about aging Peter up will be deleted and blocked. You’ve been warned multiple times - if you continue to read after this point, it’s on you.

I also gave reader a last name. Sue me. Hope this lives up to the hype... I’m probably gonna hide for the rest of the night and not look at tumblr for the rest of the night... posting anxiety sucks.

Any mistakes are mine, I was rushing towards the end, lol.

☞ PART FIVE | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You toss your freshly braided hair over your shoulder as you move through the halls towards Bucky’s classroom. You’re actually pretty excited. Sure, you were fuming for most of the day yesterday but after a joint and an appointment with your vibrating boyfriend, your mind cleared. Your mother's words came floating back to you, and you knew what you had to do. Kill ‘em with kindness. After all, healthy competition goes both ways.

You turn into his room, finding it empty, but the light on. No bother, you just move up the rows and plop down in your seat, pulling out your laptop. You don’t even look up when Cher walks in - late, of course - and sign loudly when she acknowledges you.

“Didn’t realize sucking up started this early.”

“And yet here you are,” you smile quickly, “Late, but here, nevertheless.”

She rolls her eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch before she sits in her seat. Bucky arrives some minutes later, a cup of coffee in his hand, his glasses low on his nose, “Morning ladies. My apologies, I'm dragging ass today, had to get some coffee.”

You don’t answer. You don’t even look up from your screen as you tap away, finishing up your English paper. You hear the two of them making conversation, flicking your eyes up as Cher moves to the desk, leaning over it to no doubt show off the boob job her father paid for over the summer. Her irritating laughter rings out, but you pay it absolutely no mind until you feel a set of eyes on you within minutes.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” Bucky says, tilting his head as you finally glance up at him from over your screen.

“Good morning Bucky.”

You watch as his jaw twitches slightly and his eyes squint at the sound of his first name. You shift in your seat, dropping your eyes back to your google doc, having to literally stop yourself from grinning. You’ve got him already.

“Bucky?” He questions, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You click your teeth and scrunch your face as you pretend to be confused, “You did say at the beginning of the year to call you Bucky, yes? Has something changed?”

He scoffs lightly, a confused smirk playing on his lips as he rubs his chin, “I did, yes.” He agrees, shaking his head, “I thought you said you preferred Mr. Barnes.”

You shrug, “Well, I guess I don’t anymore.” You cut your eyes to Cher, who squints back at you, her lip slightly snarled, “If you want to be called Bucky, then I’ll call you Bucky.” You lift your eyes back to his, crossing your legs, “Just like everyone else.”

You drop your eyes back to your Macbook and fill the silence by tapping away at your keyboard again. You feel his eyes on you for a few seconds more before Cher draws his attention with some bullshit question. You stay true to course, never lifting your eyes back to him as he throws random looks at you, trying to get your attention as the class starts to fill up.

You close your laptop but never really give him your full attention as you usually do as he begins his lecture. You glance out the window, or keep your eyes cast down on your pristine white shoes You gaze at your nails, making a mental note to schedule an appointment. You keep your legs crossed. You don’t engage, you don’t answer any questions, you don’t offer any insight. You just sit there - like everyone else.

His eyes are on you the entire hour. He poses questions, but ignores the raised hands for a few moments, waiting for yours to pop up into the air. When it doesn’t, his eyes linger on you for a few beats before he finally calls on someone. His questions get short, his thoughts sort of jumbled as the time dwindles. You smile. This is going to be easier than you thought.

The bell rings and you fall in line with everyone else, heading towards the door. A hand catches your bicep and you sigh, but you keep your eyes straight ahead. Bucky nods and smiles at a few students before he turns his attention to you.

“You stopping by after class?” He asks gently, “I got something in my pants you might like.”

You smile back at him, cocking your head, “No, I can’t make it today.”

His lips part as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “Why not?”

“I have a riding lesson with Mr. Udaku.”

He laughs in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair, “A riding lesson?” He repeats, “That early in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He clears his throat as irritation starts to bubble in his chest, “You gave me your schedule. Wednesday through Friday, six to eight, twice a day Saturday and Sunday.”

You shrug, “Not anymore.”

You take a step from him, but he stops you, grabbing your arm again. You turn towards him, your lips set in a hard line. He looks back at you, crossing his arms over his chest as you refuse to give in.

“Come on,” he says after the last student clears the room, “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You shrug again as you answer sweetly, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me today. This isn’t about yesterday, is it?” He probes, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was just joking. You know you’re my favorite girl.”

You smile. It’s too late for that. You step out of his arms and head for the door as his eyes follow you, “You were absolutely right, Bucky,” you stress, “A little competition is healthy. For everyone.”

You turn and walk out before he can respond.

----------

You brush down Apollo, your most prized possession as he neighs gently. You shush him, patting him softly on his side before you kiss him on his snout. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaffirming his good boy status just as Cher walks into the stalls. You throw your eyes at her as she stops in her tracks before rebounding quickly and moving to her horse’s stall.

“And just what are you doing here?” She asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have a lesson.”

You hear her scoff, “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” You giggle, rolling your eyes, “I moved my lessons to mirror yours, just so I can crush you everyday of the week. Show you who’s boss.”

She tuts, batting her big eyes, “You just can’t stand it that Barnes doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Please,” you scoff, “Just the fact that he’s entertaining you, makes me reconsider his intelligence.”

You smile sweetly as you grab Apollo’s reins and start to walk him out of the barn. You lean into her and push some of her blonde hair off of her shoulder, “You fuck with me, I fuck with you. You should have stayed in your place, little girl.”

She slaps your hand away and you laugh before moving out into the field. You place your foot into the stir up and hoist yourself up onto Apollo, adjusting yourself on the saddle. You start a slow trot around the fenced in area, warming him up before you start working the obstacle course.

Your lesson goes exactly how you thought it would, compliment after compliment from Mr. Udaku, (or T’Challa, as many of his students call him) about your form, your technique, your skill - while Cher struggled to keep up. Pride swells in your chest as you gaze upon her flustered, red face as she rips off her helmet and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Cher, you still need to work on not bouncing as much when you canter, you're still gripping too hard with your legs. Here,” T’Challa says, “Watch Ms. Prescott.”

He waves you forward and you start a canter with Apollo, your body moving naturally with his, “See how relaxed she is? You gotta let your legs stay soft. You have to remember to stay aligned with Cotton’s body or you’ll never be a smooth rider. Thank you Ms. Prescott.”

“Not a problem,” you coo sweetly, “I’m always here to help. You have my number Cher, you can text me anytime if you need any pointers.”

She narrows her eyes at you as she exhales hard, “Thank you.” She hisses as sarcasm drips from her words.

“I mean, now that I’ve switched my schedule, we’ll get to ride together more. I don’t mind showing you the ropes. I know you’ve only started riding a few years ago.” You smile widely, continuing to step on her throat.

“I think that’s a good idea actually,” T’Challa agrees, “There’s no shame in asking for help sometimes Cher. Ms. Prescott’s knowledge and skill set could really help elevate your riding. You know she and Apollo are three time Champions.”

“Going for four,” you smile proudly, “Cher was there, cheering me on for all three of my wins. What did you place last year?” You ask, knowing good and damn well she was disqualified from your skill class.

“Fuck you,” she mouths.

Your smile practically breaks your face in two. Kill ‘em with kindness. You pull Apollo away from T’Challa and Cher, starting another slow trot around the fence. You glance over your shoulder and spot Bucky walking through the grass. You squint slightly, pulling on the reins to slow Apollo to a stop. You’ve never seen him out here before. He must be checking up on you, seeing if you really had a lesson this afternoon. You smile again. Men.

You click your tongue quickly and pat Apollo on his hip, turning him back towards the two teachers. You ride just close enough to hear their conversation but not close enough to where they’d know you’re snooping. You jump Apollo over the hogsback in the center of the arena as their conversation wafts towards you.

“I didn’t know she rode this early in the day, especially on Tuesdays.” You hear Bucky say.

“She usually doesn’t, but she texted me last night wanting to change her schedule to free up her weekends. She wouldn’t tell me why. It’s not like she really needs to practice this hard.”

You glance over at the two of them at the fence and meet Bucky’s gaze. You blink back at him, never one to back down from a staring contest, and quirk your eyebrows up your forehead. He turns his attention back toT’Challa, before he sends his gaze towards Cher. You turn Apollo again, trotting him over to another jump.

You cut your eyes over your shoulder, watching Bucky shrug, “She’s been my TA for a few weeks. I just thought it was kinda sudden that she couldn’t stop by after class today.”

T’Challa slaps him on the shoulder, “I’m sorry man. Didn’t mean to steal your help away.”

“No, no,” you hear Bucky say before he links his eyes with yours again, “We’re just going to have to share her it seems.” He shakes T’Challa’s hand, “I’ll catch you later, huh?”

You watch as he moves back across the grass, running his hand through his hair as he bows his head. You let Apollo cool down for a few more minutes before you ride him back into the stalls. You brush him down again, before cleaning out his stall and laying down some fresh hay for him. You give him his dinner, feed him a few carrots as a treat for a job well done and rub noses before kissing him again.

“You’re the only man I can depend on. See you tomorrow baby.”

You remove your gloves as you move out from the back of the barn, jumping slightly and clutching your chest when you come face to face with one Bucky Barnes, “Bucky -”

“Stop calling me that.” He answers sternly, his hands in his pockets, “You switched your riding schedule? Really?”

You shrug definitely, “So I wanted more lessons during the week, shoot me.”

“T’Challa said you don’t even need them. You’re just fucking with me.”

You giggle, “And Cher,” you add, “This isn’t all about you.”

“Can we just knock it off please? I’m sorry, okay? I told you, I was just joking yesterday.” He says with a huff, running his hands through his hair again.

You cross your arms over your chest, a smirk on your face and a sing-song tune in your voice, “But I’m just getting started, Bucky.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “It’s a little funny. Look at you all worked up.” You mock, bopping his nose with your index finger, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Hey. Prescott.”

You snap your head back towards the new voice, taking a quick step away from Bucky. You smile as the young Peter Parker leans up against the fence, nodding his head at you, “Peter Parker. How are you?”

“You got a minute?”

Your smile widens, “Of course.”

Bucky grabs your arm again before you step away from him, “I’m not finished talking to you.”

You pull away from him, “Well, I’m finished talking to you.” You state, stepping away from him, “I’ve been involved in competition my whole life, Bucky. I don’t cave and I certainly don’t lose. You wanted a competition, now you got one.”

You turn on your heel and bounce towards the waiting Peter. He stands up straight, smiling at you again but keeps his eyes on Bucky as he walks off. Once you’re close enough, he nods towards him, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You wave it off, “No interruption. I don’t see you out here much.”

“Nah, I came by to see you. I think we can help each other out.”

“God,” you roll your eyes playfully, “You read my mind. I smoked my last joint last night.”

“Not with that,” he laughs, “Well, I can help you with that too, but I have something else in mind.”

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued with him, “Oh?”

“Word’s getting around that you and Cher are battling over Barnes.” You shoot your eyes towards him, “You know she’s got a big mouth.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Don’t worry. Everybody here has something on them, nobody is gonna snitch for fear of it coming back on them ten times over.” He says slowly, scrunching his face slightly as he faces the sun, “That’s what I thought I could help you with.”

You cross your arms as you glance around the deserted area, “How’s that?”

“You know Cher and I fucked around for a while late last semester, right before summer. Turns out, the fucking bitch burned me.”

“Ugh,” you grimace, “You’re kidding?”

“No. My parents intercepted the test results. That’s why my ass has been on lock down. Plus, I had to be on a fucking regimen of antibiotics to get rid of the shit. Killed my fucking game for the summer, man.”

You giggle a little, bumping your shoulder with his, “Sorry to hear it, but what exactly does that have to do with me, Parker?”

“It would kill her if we hooked up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Barnes too. He hates me.”

You inhale deeply as your lips curl into another devilish smile, “I didn’t know you had Barnes.”

“I have him in the afternoon. He busts my balls over every little fucking thing.” He rolls his eyes, “Cher is absolutely obsessed with you, it would drive her nuts. It’s the best revenge that I can get and I know you love making her feel second best.”

“It gives me great joy, actually.” You watch as Peter laughs, “Alright Parker, you got yourself a deal, but we need to draw some lines.”

“Okay,” he nods, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Lay ‘em out.”

“I don’t,” you start, clearing your throat, “I haven’t fucked-fucked yet and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Saving it for Barnes?” He teases.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Make outs, blow jobs, heavy petting… whatever, I’m down with all of that, just no fucking. Deal?”

He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking it to make it official, “A woman confident in her sexuality. I love it.” He pecks you on the cheek before he starts to walk off, “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.” He calls.

“Same to you, Parker.” You smile, “Same to you.”

----------

You and Peter keep your newfound “romance” on the low for the next few days, as not to arouse any sudden suspicions. You continue to show up to Bucky’s class a half hour early (always making it in before Cher) and completely ignore him. You catch up on homework, you read, you paint your nails. Your nonchalant attitude towards him has continued to get under his skin, as his frustration and irritation has bled over into his lectures. Everyone picks up on his attitude, even Cher, now also receiving a cold shoulder from him in the mornings and afternoons.

You and Peter decide to start your attack bright and early Monday morning. You meet up in the parking lot, hanging out next to his car, laughing and joking with a few of his baseball teammates. You walk in around seven fifty, twenty minutes after Bucky has been expecting you, hand in hand. Peter throws his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his body as the two of you make your way through the halls.

You pass by the open door of Bucky’s room and Peter stops purposefully in front of it as he calls for one of his friends down the hall. You glance into the room, but quickly cut your eyes away as you find Bucky and Cher gaping out at the two of you - Cher practically flipping over her desk she’s leaning so far forward. You and Peter push forward out of sight and you lean against the lockers, pulling him into you.

You kiss him hard, making him moan in surprise at first but he quickly follows suit. You smack your lips on his a few times before he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours as he drags his finger down your now swollen lips. The two of you whisper back and forth, smiling and giggling all the while before he leans into you again, capturing your lips.

A throat clears loudly from beside the two of you, but you both ignore it, continuing to giggle and kiss as if you don’t hear a thing.

“Guys,” you hear Bucky sigh, “Break it up.”

“Oh, Mr. Barnes,” Peter laughs, wrapping his fingers around your neck softly - possessively, “Shit, man. Sorry about that. Didn’t even hear you, did you babe?”

You shake your head, “Nope. Sorry Bucky.” You peck Peter on his lips again before reaching up to wipe away the excess lip gloss you left behind, “You’ll walk me to my next class, yes?”

He winks at you before dipping back into you to kiss you once, twice, three more times, causing Bucky to speak up again.

“Guys, I mean it. You aren’t on a beach somewhere and you need to watch your mouth, Parker.” He sighs loudly, “Ms. Prescott, your seat please.”

You roll your eyes and push away from the lockers, you and Peter linking hands and extending your arms as you both walk in different directions.

“I’ll be right here after class babe.” He says, winking again.

“Ms. Prescott.” Bucky barks before pushing a hot breath out of his nose.

When your hands actually come undone, you wiggle your fingers at him before tossing your braids over your shoulder and push past the verklempt Bucky. You step past Cher, and she grabs your wrist, pulling you down into her.

“So you want my sloppy seconds all of a sudden?”

“Sloppy seconds?” You repeat, laughing lightly as you tilt your head, “Sweetie, it’s the restaurant metaphor all over again. Peter moved on from a bug infested pizza parlor to a clean five star restaurant. You’re still the sloppy one here.” You wink.

You revel in Bucky’s anger for the entire hour. He continuously cuts his eyes towards you, now dark and brooding, but you smirk back and drop your eyes to your book, not giving him the satisfaction. Your legs stay crossed and your panties stay dry - much to his chagrin. Peter is right there by the door as soon as the bell rings. The two of you intertwine your fingers and swing them back and forth as you walk down the hall, two pairs of eyes on you all the while.

“Mr. Barnes, I-”

“Not now, Cher.” Bucky bites back, running his hand through his hair again quickly before he damn near shoves her out of the classroom, slamming the door.

----------

You pull your next stunt in the library a few days later. It’s a study period, so there’s a few more teachers and students loitering around than usual - Bucky just happens to be one of the loiterers. Peter pulls you through the bookshelves by the tips of your fingers, finding the perfect position for the two of you to be aligned within Bucky’s eyesight.

He’s perched at a table, his glasses low on his nose as he scribbles into his notebook before returning his gaze to the thick book just off to this left. Peter pushes you up against one of the bookshelves, jarring a few of the books loose from their spots and sending them crashing to the floor. You laugh, and Peter covers your mouth with his hand as he leans in and kisses your neck. His other hand snakes up between your thighs and pushes into your skirt, his fingertips brushing along your sex.

You push your chest into his and sink your teeth into your bottom lip as your hooded eyes flick towards Bucky. His jaw is tensed as he stares back at you. His lips are set in a hard, thin line, his face flushed red as his chest rises and falls harder than before. He falls back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, almost daring you to keep going - to keep pushing him.

You dig one of your hands into Peter’s hair, pulling softly and hissing when his teeth sink into the fleshy crook of your neck. You push your hips into his fingers as he teases your clit with light, soft strokes. He licks a slow path up your neck and chin before he kisses you deeply and pulls you suddenly out of Bucky’s sight.

“This is fun,” he laughs against your mouth, kissing you again as he squeezes your hip.

You giggle in return, tilting your head up towards the ceiling, silently asking him to continue. He obliges, and starts sucking on your skin again, pushing his hand back between your thighs. He slips his fingers underneath your panties and moans when the slickness of your sex coats his fingers. You let out a small moan as your hips move with his fingers. You grab his free hand and push it to your left breast, helping him to grab a handful of you.

You gasp suddenly when Peter’s fingers push inside of you. You laugh again but spread your legs instinctively, raising one slightly to rub his calf. You feel him laugh against you as his fingers pump softly, his palm rubbing against your clit.

“Fuck, Peter,” you say softly, pushing your body into his again as he finger fucks you up against the wall of books.

You roll your head and jump when those familiar blue eyes are on you again, this time just on the other side of the bookshelf in front of you. Your mouth falls open as you stare back at him over the tops of the books. He slides a book off of the shelf, removing his eyes from yours to flip through the pages before he slides his angry eyes back to yours. He runs his eyes along Peter’s body, then halts at his hand as it pumps into you.

You snarl your lip as a pang of excitement flashes through you. You’ve never been watched like this before - it’s kinda fun. You keep your eyes on Bucky’s as Peter’s hand quickens inside of you, his palm beating against your clit. You bite down into your bottom lip as you rest your chin on his shoulder, your head falling forward as your orgasm starts to build.

“Shit,” you whine, your breath growing ragged as your hips pulse with the pace of his fingers.

You lift your leg a little higher as the lust in your stomach starts to flood through your veins. You wrap your arms around his neck and ball his t-shirt into your hands, struggling to keep your eyes open as Bucky peers on. You watch as he runs his tongue over his teeth, blinking at you slowly, anger brimming just below his surface. He doesn’t shy away though, he doesn’t walk off, he doesn’t lash out, he just flips aimlessly through the random book he picked up as he watches as you come all over Peter’s fingers.

You slam your eyes shut at your orgasm rips through you. Peter moans as he slams his fingers into your wet, tight muscles. His free hand creeps back up to your face and covers your mouth, stifling the squeaks and squeals that dribble from your lips. Peter crushes you to the bookshelf with his weight, chuckling as he nips at your chin and neck. You keep your bottom lip between your teeth as you smirk at Bucky. You wanted a competition, now you got one.

Peter pulls out his phone and lifts it into the air, hitting record as you still lean up against the bookshelf, still panting and giggly as your body floats on cloud nine. He smiles slowly into the camera, before leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue skimming along the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. He situates your panties and skirt, like the gentleman he is, before he tugs at your wrist to pull you out from between the aisles.

When he clears the bookshelves, he stops suddenly when he locks eyes with Bucky just on the other side. He nods his head towards him, before shoving his wet fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean before he pulls them out with a soft pop and glances back into his camera, throwing a wink it’s way. The two of you waltz out of the library, smiles on both of your faces. You hear Peter’s phone as it starts to sound, ding after ding after ding as a quick flurry of text messages slide through.

He pulls it out and snorts before he tilts it towards you, Cher’s name flashing across it as a call comes through.

“This is going tremendously.” He smiles, declining the call and sliding the sleek phone back into his pocket.

----------

You glance down at your watch as you whistle slowly; 8:06am. You’re now officially late to Bucky’s class, and officially late for the first time in over four years. You turn down his hallway, scrolling through your tumblr as you come to his closed door. You push through and feel the eyes of the entire class on you as you waltz in without a care in the world. Bucky’s lecture comes to a halt as he slides his eyes with you as you pick your way through the seats to find yours.

You sit, taking your time as you pull out your notebook and pen while everyone watches, just as surprised as Bucky that you’re late. You take a deep breath and expel it calmly as you finally glance up at him.

“Good morning.” You say cheerfully.

He crosses his arms over his chest and licks his lips slowly, “You’re late.”

“Oh,” you sigh a little, glancing at your watch, “Sorry about that.”

“We had a deal at the beginning of the semester.” He says, his voice deep.

You cross your legs and swing your foot lightly, “Did we?”

He narrows his eyes at you as he pulls his glasses off of his face, “Should I remind you?”

“Please.” You nod, “It’s slipped my mind.”

He nods slowly, starting to pace, “You wanted me to hold you personally responsible if you were ever late.”

You squint your eyes as you tilt your chin towards the ceiling, pretending to rack your brain, “That’s right, I did. That little check mark next to my name on the attendance sheet is gonna hurt.”

“Oh no,” He chuckles as you challenge him so openly, “You wanted to be held responsible. A little check mark isn’t going to do that.”

You smirk, “So what’ll it be, Bucky?”

“Detention.”

Your face drops. Detention? Detention? For one fucking tardy?! “Detention?” you repeat, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He turns back to face you, leaning back on his desk as he kicks his legs out in front of him. He shrugs, shaking his head, “You asked for it.”

“You’re joking,” you laugh, your mind starting to race, “A detention for being late one time? Have you handed out a detention to anyone else?”

He shrugs, “Nope. But you’re not everyone else, are you?”

You squint your eyes at him as he smirks back. This is the only way he could get back at you - to tarnish your perfect record. Your body flushes with heat - you honestly didn’t expect this. This… this is below the belt. You’d figured that he’s been so out of sorts that he’d just slap you on the wrist and beg to see him after class. You’d trade barbs back and forth, he’d eat your pussy and the two of you would be right back on track, like this never happened. But this?

“I’m getting you ready for real life. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

A chorus of oooh’s ring out from the rest of the class as you throw your braids over your shoulder angrily, “I have a riding lesson at three twenty five today.”

“I’ll talk to T’Challa if you’d like me to.”

You laugh sarcastically, “This is ridiculous. This’ll go on my record, you realize that?”

He shrugs again as he pushes away from his desk, “Maybe you should have thought about that. Now,” he smiles, turning his attention back to the rest of the class, “Where were we?”

He completely turns the tables on you after that. He ignores you for the rest of his lecture. His mood lightens considerably. He cracks jokes, he banters with other classmates as you stew in your anger. When class is over, he holds out your detention slip between his fingers, which you snatch and crumple up in your hand as you pass by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Asshole.

The final bell of the day rings hours later and you start the trek towards Dr. Banner’s room, the resident detention monitor. He’s surprised to see you and gives you a reassuring smile as you head to the back of the room, plopping down in one of the desks. You catch Mitchell Bryant, the fifth year senior and fuck up extraordinaire, smirking at you and roll your eyes deeply before shifting in your seat to block him from your line of vision.

You busy yourself with your trigonometry homework, actually getting into it within a few minutes. The door opens and you flip your eyes towards it, doing a double take when you spot Bucky walking in. He smiles at Dr. Banner, leaning into his desk and muttering something before he heads back to the door.

“Ms. Prescott?” He calls, “Grab your stuff and come with me please.”

You cock your head as your eyes instantly narrow at him. You take a deep breath, but stand and collect your things. You walk out into the hallway, finding him waiting for you, “Yes?” you ask, your tone flat and irritated.

He doesn’t answer, he just points forward and waits for you to start walking. You roll your eyes but ultimately obey, your feet carrying you back to his classroom. He enters a few steps behind you, closing the door softly before he flips the lock.

You spin on your heel to face him as your bag hangs off of your shoulder, “What is it, Bucky?”

“Drop your bag. Put your hands flat on the desk.”

His voice is deep and eerily calm. Your lips part and your eyes widen a little as you stand in your spot. He cocks his head when you still don’t move, “Did you not hear what I said? Hands flat on the desk. Now.”

You drop your bag from your shoulder and move to his desk, flattening your palms on the top of it. You’ve never heard him like this before - so stern. You swallow hard as your eyes dart around the chalkboard in front of you. You feel his presence behind you, hearing the material of his tie rubbing against his shirt as he loosens it, before pulling it from around his neck.

You jump when he slaps lightly at the insides of your thighs, “Open sesame.”

You spread your legs wider as his fingertips brush along your soft skin. His hand slides up your spine slowly and pushes you forward until your chest is resting flush against his desk. Your breath becomes audible as he pushes his hips into your ass, making you gasp when you feel his hard on pressing into your flesh.

He grabs your right wrist, bending your arm to place your hand in the small of your back before he reaches for the left. You then feel the soft silk of his tie as it wraps around your wrists, looping around them both before he ties it tightly into a nice, firm knot. Without warning, he bucks into your ass, jolting you forward as you gasp loudly again.

“You are one smart cookie, Ms. Prescott.” He says softly, running his hands along your hips and ass, “I underestimated you.”

“Mental warfare is my specialty.”

You bite your lip as your body starts to warm from his touch. A moan escapes you as he rucks your skirt up around your hips and groans at the sight of your sheer, pink panties. You close your eyes as his fingers dance along your plump ass, cupping it in both of his large palms and jiggling it gently.

“Nervous?”

You shake your head definitely, “Of course not.”

“Never one to show weakness, huh? I like that.”

You let out a sharp scream when a hard slap is suddenly leveled to your behind. Your body tightens as you pull against the tie wrapped around your wrists. He spanks you twice again in quick succession and you slam your eyes closed as you squeal and squirm underneath him. He pushes his hand back between your legs, his fingers brushing along the sudden, new wet spot on your panties. Goddamn him.

“I’ve gotta give it to you, Prescott,” he says softly as his fingers push underneath your panties and slip through your wet folds, “You had me going. I was jealous.”

You hiss as you roll your hips into his hand, “I told you Bucky - “

He spanks you again, the sound of his flesh meeting yours bouncing off of the chalkboard, “That’s not my name.”

“Fuck!” You mewl as the sting radiates through you, but you don’t give in. Not quite yet.

“What were you saying, darling?” He coos as his fingers travel to your hips and dig underneath the thin band of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, slipping them over your feet. You hear him inhale deeply seconds later before his fingers slip through your folds again. Your mouth drops open as he plays with your clit, drawing slow circles around it before he pushes two of his thick fingers into you. His thumb pushes between your ass cheeks and flattens against your tight hole, applying a slight pressure as he starts to pump his fingers slowly.

“Did you have fun with the young Peter Parker?” He asks, pushing his hips flush to your behind, “Hmm? Did he make you feel good?”

You whimper as his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb pushing just inside. When you don’t answer fast enough, he spanks you again, making you squeal loudly. He pushes his thumb further and you squeeze your muscles as tight as you can as you tilt your head towards the ceiling, relishing in the electricity bouncing through you. His fingers push deeper in your pussy and you growl as you run your tongue over your teeth.

“Yes.” You hiss, the smart ass in you still winning out, “You were there, Bucky. You saw how good he made me feel.”

He chuckles deeply, removing his fingers from you before he pulls you up into a standing position. He turns you around to face him and picks you up, sitting you gently on top of his desk. He stays nose to nose with you, his eyes bouncing around your face as he smirks. He lifts his fingers to your mouth, smoothing your wetness over your bottom lip.

You lick your lip slowly before you suck it into your mouth, blinking up at him slowly as you swallow your taste. He kisses you hard, wrapping his hands around your neck and pulling you into him as his tongue bursts into your mouth. You moan, letting your head fall back into his hands as you accept him, sucking on his tongue as you pull lightly against the tie still around your wrists.

He pulls back slowly, pulling your bottom lip with him before he lets go. He tilts his head as his fingers drop to the buttons on your shirt, popping them one by one until it falls open. He flips his eyes back to yours as he starts undoing his pants, letting them slightly fall down his hips. You bite your lip as you watch him push his hand into his black boxer briefs, stroking himself. He pulls his dick free and you inhale deeply, your eyes growing wide as he springs out from behind the stretchy material.

“That little prick couldn’t satisfy you.” He says quietly, “Not like I can, baby girl. I’m a grown man.”

Your mouth falls open as he pushes the tip of his dick along your throbbing clit and through your folds. He pushes your legs open wider, wrapping your right limb around his hip. He pushes at your slit, positioning himself right at your opening.

“What’s my name baby?”

You bite your bottom lip again as your lips start to curl into a smile. You bat your eyes at him but shake your head - not giving an inch.

He smiles back at you, “You are stubborn as all fucking hell.”

“You started it.”

“I suppose I did,” He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, “You’re my perfect little princess.” He says, “You always were, you always will be.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You breathe in confidently, pushing it out of your nose as pride swells in your chest. You never cave. You never lose, “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Can I fuck you now?”

You nod slowly, “Of course you can, Mr. Barnes.”

He bites your lips and growls at the sound of his name tripping off your tongue with such ease. He grabs his shaft, slipping the head of his cock through your folds again before he stops at your slit. He wraps his other arm around your waist and starts to push slowly, breaking into your tight canal. You squeak as your muscles spread for his flesh for the first time, hissing as a delicious pain courses through you.

His mouth drops open as he watches you swallow him. He pushes a focused breath out of his mouth as he pushes until he completely disappears inside of you. A tear slips down your cheek as he pulls out and slides back in. You dig your nails into his desk as you adjust your hips - the pain and the pleasure of it all mixing and melting together into a perfect harmony.

You moan loudly as he fucks you nice and slow. He pushes his fingers to your clit and rubs quick circles against it as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as he watches you squirm and writhe.

“This is what a real man feels like,” he says softly, digging his fingertips into your hip as he fucks you, “Do I feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, tears streaming down your face, “You feel so good.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, “You are such a good girl. You��re taking me so well.”

Your head swims as he praises you, stroking your ego, making you clench around him. His hips start to move faster as his hands run up and down your thighs, gripping and kneading your flesh. His fingers roam up to your breasts, pushing into your bra to tease your thick nipples, adding a new sensation to the mix. He drops his right hand back between your legs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit and starts to rub again, his other fingers still pulling and flicking at your aroused buds.

Your hips jerk without warning, pushing his cock into you deeper, pulling a guttural scream out of you. Your eyes continue to leak as your head spins and your body tightens and flexes. A shutter runs up your spine, your thighs shake. You tighten them around his waist and try to grip the desk below you as a dull ache sits in the pit of your stomach.

He fucks into you faster - recognizing that you’re starting to come undone as he overloads your senses. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling as he continues to rub your clit and pump his hips into yours.

“You gonna come for me?” He starts to coax softly, “Hmm? Is my girl gonna come?”

My girl. Your brain can’t even form a coherent sentence. You’re nothing but sensation as he pushes you right to the edge of the cliff. His strokes get harder, his fingers faster as he rests his forehead to yours. He leaves your nipple to wrap his hand around your throat. His hot breath washes over your face as he kisses you quickly.

“I want my girl to come. Come for me, baby. Give it to me, I want to own you.”

You grunt as your eyes start to roll. He fucks into you as your toes curl with each of his strokes, pushing, pushing, pushing, until he tips you right over the edge. You mewl into the empty room as your orgasm floods through every vein, every muscle, every sensor in your body. He loses his control - pounding into you as hard as he can as your pussy quivers around him.

Your clit jumps with contractions as you tighten your legs around his hips. He coaxes you on, whispering sweet nothings as wave after wave crashes against you. His grunts grow louder and more erratic, his hips faltering every now and again until you feel a sudden warmth burst into you. He hisses as he spurts long, hot ribbons into your cunt over and over again.

He nearly collapses - having to slam his palm to the top of his desk to hold himself up. His breaths are deep and ragged as his head falls to your shoulder. He leans back after a minute and tilts his head towards the ceiling as he focuses on his breathing, pushing them in and out slow and evenly.

“Fuck,” he lets out as a laugh rumbles through his chest, “Goddamn.”

He reaches around and unties your wrists before pulling you up into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck and let him wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you around his desk and sits in his chair. He curls you into him, wrapping you up in his warm arms before he sweeps your braids over your shoulder. He kisses your forehead and the top of your head as he strokes your spine gently.

“You are so pretty when you cry.” He says gently, smiling at you, “My perfect little girl.”

You still can’t talk. You just smile as you nuzzle into him, blinking down at your thighs, a small amount of blood splashed on your skin.

“Can you cancel your riding lessons tomorrow and Sunday?” he asks after a few minutes.

You nod slowly, “Why?”

“I want you all to myself.” He says, pushing his knuckle into your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “I want you to pack a bag for the weekend. I’ll text you my address, okay?”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“Okay.” He smiles, kissing you again, “Come on, let's get moving.”

You reluctantly climb out of his lap and start to arrange your clothing properly, buttoning up your shirt and smoothing your skirt back down on your hips. Your legs are shaky, your pussy and clit sore, but you’ve never felt better. He grabs your bag and places it on your shoulder as the two of you move to the door. When he opens it, the two of you come face to face with one Cher Goodwin, her hand still in the air as she was just about to knock.

Her lips part as she stares at you, before flicking her eyes towards Bucky, “I thought you had detention.”

You shrug, “You thought wrong.”

She slides her eyes down your frame, squinting as she looks you over. Her face drops as the realization floods through her. Your smile widens. She doesn’t even have to ask. She runs her hand through her hair roughly as she takes a deep breath, letting the dread of knowing she’s lost again flush through her. She’s come up just short - second place, once again.

“Cher,” Mr. Barnes starts, “I’m sorry. Something came up, I’m not gonna be able to stick around this afternoon.”

She scoffs, clicking her teeth as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Mr. Barnes, I - “

“I’m sorry,” he cuts her off, “You know, I can get you a couple of names of some really great tutors that can give you all the attention you need. Okay?”

She runs her tongue over her teeth as she stares off into the distance, laughing slightly, “Sure, yeah. Whatever.”

Bucky pushes past her and out into the hallway, “I’ll have them for you Monday morning, okay? I’m sorry ladies, I gotta split. Have a good weekend. Thanks for all your help Ms. Prescott.”

You smile at her as he moves down the hallway, “Oh, Cher.” You laugh, “Poor thing.”

“I’ll fucking get you.” She sneers, “One of these goddamn days, I will win! I will fucking beat you!” You shouts, stomping her foot.

You nudge her chin with your fist, “It’s cute you still believe that. The only thing you’ll ever have over me, is knowing how second place feels.” You brush past her shoulder as a frustrated tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh,” you say happily, turning back on your heel to face her, “I forgot to tell you. T’Challa signed Apollo and I up for the relay competition on Wednesday. You’re participating in that too, right?” You wink, watching as her eyes fill with dread, “See you there.”

You throw your hand into the air as you walk away from her, wiggling your fingers, “Tootles, darling.”

766 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander | Chapter 18

A/N: Remember that there’s a DOUBLE POST this week because of my birthday that happened yesterday! Look out for Chapter 19 to be posted Thursday at 7:30pm. I think you guys will reeeeeally like that one :)

January 24th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was amazed.

The welcome reception that the NHL planned in the hotel was full to the brim of what seemed like every NHL president, general manager, and their assistants mingling and munching on perfectly prepared hors d’oeuvres. Everybody was staying at the Ritz-Carlton, a fifteen minute drive from the Enterprise Centre where all the hockey-related festivities were taking place. While the all-stars had already been bussed to the Enterprise Centre, she was here with Brendan and Kyle, trying to assert her presence in a room full of men who thought they were gifts to God’s green earth. She wondered if any of the other executive assistants – a good 99% male, from her observations – felt the same way. It was when she was standing in that room that she realized how much of an anomaly she truly was, and if some guy gawked at her because he hadn’t seen a female since October, she wouldn’t be surprised. Hockey was an old boy’s club, and there was no better proof for that than the makeup of the people in this room.

Many people came up to speak to Brendan and Kyle – Aberdeen thought they were almost like the star debutantes at the ball, except one debutante already had three Stanley Cup rings; the other debutante was like the belle of the ball, as one of the youngest GMs in the league, and everybody wanted to talk to him. The only thing they’d do is give Aberdeen a quick nod after they finished their conversation before walking off. It was like she ceased to exist, or existed only as a figure to nod to once the discussion with the ‘big boys’ was over. Nobody was giving her the time of day. She didn’t even know why she had to come here and do this when—

“Aberdeen,” Brendan’s voice cut off her thoughts. She straightened out her back and looked more attentive as he looked back at her. “Who do you think will come and speak to us next? Let’s make a bet.”

She smiled. She knew that instead of sulking she should be working the room as much as possible, inserting herself politely into conversations Brendan and Kyle would have with some of the other presidents and general managers. “BriseBois has been eyeing Kyle for five minutes, so twenty bucks and an extra day off says it’s him,” she said confidently.

Brendan laughed, as did Kyle. “My bet’s on Ken Holland,” Brendan quipped. “Here to talk to us about Tyler Ennis. Everyone knows they want him. Hometown boy.”

“It’ll be Sakic. To talk to us about Naz,” Kyle said.

“DUBBIE!”

All three of their heads turned to see Brisebois smiling and making his way over. Aberdeen smiled. She leaned into Brendan. “I’ll take that twenty bucks in a Starbucks gift card.”

***

Aberdeen thought that maybe Frederik Andersen should be the one seemingly babysitting Auston Matthews, but she digressed. Because he was attending the All-Star Weekend but not actively participating in any of the festivities due to his slight wrist injury, he was free to do (what seemed like) whatever he wanted. He could visit both locker rooms, he could chat with all the guys, he could take pictures with everyone. All she had to do was make sure he got to the benches during the Skills Competition and she could consider it a job well done.

She didn’t want to follow him into the locker room – that was a bit much – so she stood outside and watched as he interacted with Fred and Mitch before moving on to some of the other players: Jack Eichel, Brady Tkachuk, and Mathew Barzal, for the most part. When he was finished, he looked almost surprised that she was still there waiting for him.

“They’re going on in ten. Where should we be?” he asked.

“I’m just gonna lead you down quickly, but I’m watching with Brendan,” she informed him as they began to walk down the corridor together.

“Aw, come on. You can’t keep me company?” he asked.

“There’s no way I’d be caught dead on a camera beside Auston Matthews, thank you very much,” she joked, but at the same time, was totally serious. If even one hair on her head was caught on camera, she was sure Auston’s fangirls would know her name, address, social security number, and blood type within the hour. “Let alone at the All-Star Game. And let alone with you looking like that.”

“Like what?!” he wailed.

“Oh, come on Auston. You look like you were a cast off of Anchorman and you know it.”

“I’m fashionable.”

“If you say so,” she rolled her eyes.

“I thought those types of comments were only meant for Willy, anyway.”

“They’re meant for any of you when you look like this,” she covered herself, giving him a full up-down, causing him to laugh and shake his head.

They walked past the Western Conference locker room, bustling with all the players and the media walking in and out of it. Auston stopped again to say hi to some guys that he could see – Tyler Seguin and Connor McDavid – before Aberdeen watched another player making his way towards them.

“This your girl, Matthews?” Matthew Tkachuck asked, a devilish smile on his face.

Aberdeen crinkled her brows. Gross. “Ew Matty,” she watched Auston as he made a face. “This is Shanahan’s executive assistant.”

“Oh!” Matthew’s face and demeanour completely changed as he took off his glove to shake her hand politely. “I’m Matthew Tkachuk from the Calgary Flames. It’s nice to meet you.”

Aberdeen laughed at how these boys could switch from being rats one second to upstanding gentlemen the next. “Nice to meet you, Matthew. How do you know Auston?”

“U.S National Development Program,” Auston answered for him. “We were on a World Junior team together.”

“Yeah, not to mention I was on a line with Mitchy in London,” Matthew added, referring to his junior career with the London Knights of the OHL. “It’s like I’m practically on the Leafs,” he smiled.

“You wish,” Auston scowled.

“You’ll be on the bench watching, yeah?” Matthew directed his question towards Auston. Auston confirmed he would be. Matthew’s attention went back to Aberdeen. He gave her a very visible up-down before biting his bottom lip. “How about you? You gonna be on the bench with Auston?”

“I’ll be sitting with my boss, but thanks for thinking about me,” she smiled over-politely. She heard Matthew chuckle but he still didn’t take his eyes off her. “We should go, Auston. I don’t want Gary Bettman angry at me for keeping the star of Toronto backstage for too long.”

Matthew said his goodbyes. Aberdeen and Auston continued walking down and around the corridors until they came to the entrance to the ice. Some of the arena workers, recognizing Auston, began showing him the way. “Now stay here and be good,” she said.

Auston smiled mischievously before winking and walking away from her. “Only for you, Aberdeen.”

“And tell Matthew Tkachuk if he even thinks of me, I’ll kick him in the balls.”

“Will do, baby.”

***

She saw the number pop up on her phone and the request for a FaceTime call. She hesitated at first, not knowing if she should accept. Sure, she was alone in her hotel room, it was late at night, and she was sure everybody had gone to bed, especially Brendan and Kyle. Nobody would be knocking on her door. Nobody would be calling her asking her to get a suitcase ready so they could take a private jet to Phoenix to fire a head coach. And even though her first thought was that this had to be some sort of practical joke, she quickly reconsidered. The last time this was requested it was in the back of a cab and an automatic no.

Not for anything, but less than 24 hours ago he was in her.

So she accepted.

William’s face popped up on the screen. He was clearly already in his pajamas, his hair tied back with an elastic atop his head. Aberdeen remembered that Toronto was an hour ahead, so it was even later for him. “Hello minskatt,” he smiled.

She’d just showered, and her hair was in a towel. She tugged it off so she didn’t look too ridiculous. “Hey Willy.”

“How are you, minskatt?” he asked sweetly, biting his bottom lip slightly as he watched her hair fall out of the towel. “How was today? Long day?”

She nodded her head. “Long but good. I met a lot of the other GMs. Well, most of them just sort of nodded their head at me after having conversations with Brendan and Kyle before moving on. It’s like they don’t know how to speak to women.”

“They probably don’t,” he quipped. “Did Auston behave?”

She smiled. “Yes, Auston behaved.”

“So I don’t need to kick his ass?”

Aberdeen giggled. “No. You’d never, anyway. He’s one of your best friends.”

“I’d still kick his ass if he gave you a hard time.”

She continued to smile. “How was your day? What did you do?”

“Miss you all day,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. She did that a lot today between him and Auston. “What did you really do?”

He shrugged. “Went to the gym. Talked with my brother. Just the usual boring stuff. Nothing as exciting as what you did.”

“Nothing I did was too exciting,” she admitted. She hated to admit it, but it was true. “I don’t mean to be rude when I say that. It’s just – I could have networked, I really could, I mean I know how to work a room, but these guys just weren’t having it. Well, everyone besides Julien BriseBois from Tampa. He was super nice.”

“It’s okay, minskatt. I’m sure tomorrow will be better,” he said encouragingly. “There’s a luncheon, right?”

She nodded her head, a bit surprised that he remembered her schedule. She hoped that would run smoother than what had happened today at the welcome reception. But now, at this moment, with Willy on FaceTime and two more days until she got to see him in Nashville, she didn’t want to talk about work. She’d only left him this morning and she was already missing him. “Hey Willy?”

“Hmm?”

“I…I’ve never really asked, but why do you always call me that? Minskatt?” she asked.

“Because that’s what you are,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She knew that it meant ‘my treasure’. She remembered that quite vividly. “Yeah, but like…why my treasure? Why not just darling or honey or whatever?”

“Do you want me to call you those?” he asked worriedly.

“No! Not at all. I…I like minskatt. I love it, actually,” she admitted for the first time out loud. After months of blushing about it and hearing him say it in her dreams, she was finally able to admit it. “I just don’t know why you’d choose that over the hundreds of other things.”

William shrugged his shoulders again. “I just heard it a lot growing up from my grandparents. My grandpa would call my grandma that all the time. When I was really small, I thought it was her actual name. And I just…I don’t know. I think it’s the nicest thing. Because you’re my treasure. That what you are to me, always. From the moment I met you. You’re my treasure.”

Aberdeen smiled sheepishly. God, he was so…good. So pure. So characteristically William that she honestly didn’t have another word for it. “For what it’s worth, you’re my treasure too, Willy.”

***

January 25th, 2020

Aberdeen decided to get breakfast on her own, without waiting for Brendan to call. She’d fallen asleep talking to William last night – they both had, gag – but she still felt pretty energized and ready for the day. She threw her hair in a bun, knowing it would be easier to style when she got back from breakfast for the luncheon, and put on a simple pair of yoga tights and a University of Toronto hoodie.

She figured that most of the guys were either still asleep or would have ordered room service, and she was pleased to see that the dining room for the continental breakfast was basically two-thirds empty. She grabbed a plate and loaded it with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and hashbrowns. She then poured herself some coffee and orange juice and settled into a table, taking out her phone so she could browse the news or read an article while she ate.

She was in a completely tranquil state of mind until she heard a voice from behind her. “Hey!”

It startled her. She turned around to see Mitch standing behind her, holding a plate stacked with food. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Same thing as you – eating!” he smiled. He looked behind him. “Hey guys! Aberdeen’s here!”

She leaned back to look past him and saw Fred’s giant body towering over the egg buffet and Auston looking like he literally just rolled out of bed pouring some cereal into a bowl. Fred smiled and Auston waved. She looked back at Mitch. “You’re all up?”

“You seem shocked,” he said as she settled into the seat across from her.

“I’m not shocked about you, because you’re just an excitable puppy,” she said. “I’m more surprised about Auston. Does he usually get up this early?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mitch shrugged. “When we’re on the hockey grind, early wake up calls are just a part of life.”

Fred and Auston came to the table eventually, with Fred sitting beside Aberdeen and Auston beside Mitch. They spoke casually – about the events of last night and the upcoming day ahead of them, what they would do with their day off tomorrow before having the fly to Nashville on Monday to meet the rest of the team. Auston suggested that they all go to the big arch. Mitch wanted to have lunch at a smokehouse. Fred wanted would arrange the Ubers.

They looked at Aberdeen. It was a while before she noticed. “What?” she asked with a mouth full of breakfast sausage.

“What do you want to do Sunday?” Mitch asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She was confused. “I’m coming?”

“Obviously,” Auston piped up.

“Why would you think you’re not invited?” Fred asked. “You’ve been with us for how long now?”

“I just…I don’t know,” she digressed. “I know I’m, like, part of the team or whatever—”

“So why wouldn’t you come?” Fred followed up.

“I—you guys constantly freak me out, you know that?” she asked. “Like, I don’t get why a bunch of hot shot hockey players want me to tag along with them on their day off.”

“Why wouldn’t you think that? Willy likes you tagging along everywhere,” Auston said.

Aberdeen suddenly stiffened at Auston’s words, thrown around so casually, but they were so charged for her. “So does Jason,” Mitch added quickly. “And Brendan, even. I mean, Brendan wouldn’t have invited you here if he didn’t trust you with us, or you with us, you know? I mean, the All-Star Game is Peter’s thing.”

She’d heard that once or twice before. “It’s just it’s still new to me, that’s all,” she said, trying to remain calm. “I don’t want to intrude on your private time. I’m already around you guys practically all the time as it is. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Not sure that’s possible,” Mitch said. “You’re always welcome with us. We love you, Aberdeen.”

***

When Aberdeen went back up to her room after breakfast, she took a long look at herself in the mirror. Long. She knew she was loved by many people: by her parents, her grandparents, her siblings, by Kasha, by friends like Masani and Tom and Margot. By Brendan, at least in his own way. By William. She was loved by William.

Could she add the Toronto Maple Leafs to that list?

***

February 5th, 2020

New York City in the beginning of February was much different than, say, New York City in the summer, even New York City at Christmas. With nothing to really look forward to – no holiday or event, no long stretch of time where the city swelled with tourists and it felt so alive – New York City was just…well, New York City. Big. Imposing. Busy.

Brendan had lived here for a few years, both as a player and an NHL executive, and he’d gone out for an extended lunch with a friend, so Aberdeen had nothing better to do than to walk down to Magnolia bakery and grab a half dozen cupcakes to eat and then bring home to share with Kasha – two red velvet with cream cheese icing, one confetti, one lemon, one coconut, and one truffle. It was her way of saying thanks, because Kasha had been picking up donuts from Bloomers or Glory Hole at least once a month since they moved in together. The perks of flying on a chartered flight was that she knew the cupcakes would be safe all the way back to Toronto.

When she got back to the arena, she made sure the box of cupcakes was placed in the box where she’d be with Brendan and Kyle that night, knowing that nobody would touch it. It was when she exited the press box and began making her way through the corridors between the locker rooms that she saw someone she was not expecting at all: Saylor, Kasperi’s girlfriend. She looked very glamourous, with her hair and makeup done professionally.

When she looked up from her phone – which she didn’t do often – and saw Aberdeen, she smiled excitedly. “Ohmygod, hi Aberdeen!” she greeted her enthusiastically.

“Hi, Saylor. You traveled to New York with Kasperi?” she asked, trying to make small talk.

“I actually had a shoot booked, but I scheduled it so I could come to New York the same time as the guys came,” she revealed, clearly proud she was able to get the gig. “You know, because I model.”

Aberdeen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Saylor reminded her every time they spoke about her modelling. Well, Instagram modelling. Aberdeen didn’t think she’d ever walked a runway or appeared in an editorial. It was mostly just the aforementioned Instagram modelling with a YouTube channel where brands would send her clothes or “collab” with her for exposure. “Yeah, I remember Saylor. Sounds fun.”

“It is!” she smiled excitedly. “I’ve been super lucky so far. But I mean hey, with a bit of makeup and good angles, lots of girls could be models.”

“I’m sure,” Aberdeen giggled. “Wouldn’t be me though. Not with these bushy Persian brows,” she joked, knowing full well thick brows were very in right now and that a lot of girls got them dyed or microbladed to look like hers.

“Persian?” Saylor was confused.

“Yeah. My dad’s Persian.”

“Ohmigosh, I knew you were mixed with something! Your nose totally gives it away.”

Aberdeen froze, though a strained smile was on her face. She knew she had a Greek nose, that it was pretty big with a prominent bridge, not elegant at all like Siena’s, but she didn’t think it was that big of a deal. She didn’t know what Saylor was trying to say or imply, but she tried to play along anyway. “I thought it’d be my hair.”

“Well, that too.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. Before she could say anything else, Saylor’s phone began ringing. “It’s my agency,” she said as she looked down at her phone. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya.”

Aberdeen watched as Saylor left, her hips swaying back and forth in her skin tight Levis. She brought her hand up to her face, feeling the bridge of her nose before patting down her hair. She sighed. At least Saylor didn’t see the Magnolia cupcake box – she probably would have made a comment about that, too.

Aberdeen thought back to New Year’s Eve, when Morgan and John sat at her table and told her the story about Bee; about how she’d gotten messages from fans making fun of her weight and looks and how they’d called her the team cum bucket. Aberdeen shivered. She didn’t understand how people could have such vitriol in their heart for another person they hadn’t even met. And having it be directed towards Bee McTavish of all people. Those were targeted attacks, mostly because they were jealous of who Bee was dating (as they should, because Morgan was a great guy). But Aberdeen wondered if Bee ever got those types of comments from people she knew – other wives or girlfriends who maybe couldn’t hold their tongue or thought that looks were the be all, end all of someone’s worth.

Aberdeen knew better than to think that way. She knew it was all bullshit. How you presented yourself to the world was one thing – with your clothes, your hair, your makeup – and it was somewhat an extension of you, but it wasn’t who you were as a person. Like, Aberdeen always liked to look fashionable and presentable at work, because she knew she was in a highly professional environment and on any given day she’d shake hands and speak with a billionaire, but her clothes didn’t define her. Her personality defined her. Her work ethic defined her. Her respect for her job, her bosses, and her colleagues defined her. Her ambitions defined her more than her clothes ever would, than her clothes ever could. She knew Saylor didn’t mean any harm, that it probably wasn’t said maliciously at all, that it was only said because she didn’t know any better and nobody in her privileged life had called her out on her language that bordered on offensive. Aberdeen wasn’t going to hold it against her unless it kept happening and it did get offensive.

But she highly doubted that.

***

The Leafs lost to the New York Rangers 5-3.

William had knocked on her room door.

She let him in.

He kissed her the second the door closed and she felt overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips on hers, like she always did, really. They hadn’t been able to connect in Nashville or Dallas after the All-Star Game because her room was right beside Brendan’s, so they had to wait until the night they got back to Toronto. The Leafs weren’t doing particularly well lately, but nobody would be able to tell by the way William was acting. He brushed off the losses fairly easily, not liking to dwell on them too much.

“You okay after tonight?” she asked.

“It’s fine, minskatt,” he said as he kissed the tip of her nose. “Better now.”

She smiled slightly. She highly doubted that she made the situation better, but she’d take it. “Come to the washroom with me. I have to wash my face.”

“That’s sexy.”

She smacked his arm. He just gripped onto her hips tighter. “I can ask you to leave.”

“You’d have to make me at this point, and I’m a strong boy,” he raised his eyebrows.

She scoffed, dragging him into the washroom with her as she took off her makeup and cleansed her face. William leaned his body against the wall behind her, so she was able to see him and look at him through the mirror. He was so patient, and literally just watched her as she went about her nightly routine. He didn’t say a peep, didn’t complain, didn’t rush her. He just watched her with a look in his eye that told her, fascinatingly, that he was enjoying just watching her, like he was captivated by her simplest movements.

She pat her face dry, looking at him through the mirror. “Can I ask you something?” she asked. It was so quiet she could practically hear the electric current going through the lightbulb.

“Of course, minskatt.”

She was hesitant, mostly because she didn’t really know if William knew anything about it, but also because she should probably be asking Morgan. She set the towel down on the counter. “Do you know what happened with Bee last year?”

William didn’t look too bothered by the question. “You mean when her mom passed away?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “The…the other thing.”

“Oh, that,” William nodded his head. “Yeah, I know what happened.”

“Morgan said it was someone who knew Kasperi’s ex.”

“It was. Her name was Cassie. Kasperi’s ex, I mean,” he clarified as he stepped closer towards her. “The girl who actually approached Bee in the restaurant was named Danielle.”

“Had you ever met them before?” she asked.

“Cassie, of course. Danielle, no,” he said. “Why?”

“Does Kasperi exclusively date models?”

“Basically,” he giggled slightly. “Why, minskatt?”

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head. “I just—I saw Saylor earlier tonight, and she mentioned how she was in New York City for a photoshoot with a brand or something.”

“She’s one of those Instagram models,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and nestling his head into the crook of her neck. He placed light kisses on her skin that made her feel temporarily drunk. “You should be a model,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Aberdeen replied sarcastically, though the feeling of his lips still on her skin made her brain mush.

“Oh come on. You’d be a great model. My model,” he continued with his compliments and with his kissing.

“Not with this nose,” Aberdeen quipped. “At least that’s what Saylor said.”

William stopped his movements. It was quiet again. She continued to watch him through the mirror as he looked at her, speechless. It shouldn’t have come out like that. She didn’t plan for it to come out like that. But like most things to do with William, nothing ever went according to plan. Ignoring him certainly didn’t go to plan – look where they were with that. “Excuse me?” he asked, finally. “What did she say to you?”

“It’s honestly not even a big deal,” Aberdeen said, trying to sound as confident as possible. “She found out I was half-Persian and was like ‘Oh your nose totally gives it away’,” she mimicked Saylor’s voice. “Then when I mentioned as a joke that I thought it would have been my hair that gave it away, she was like, ‘That too’, like it was so obvious.”

William looked angry – a confused angry, like he couldn’t believe something like that was said to her by someone so close to one of his best friends, but at the same time, could totally see it being said by her in particular. Nobody else had commented on it when they found out – at least nobody on the team had – but of course Saylor did. “Minskatt—”

“Please don’t make this a big deal,” she interrupted him, seeing the look in his eyes. “It’s not the first time someone has said something like that to me and it’s definitely not going to be the last.”

If she didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it, he wouldn’t. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still angry about it, though. And it didn’t mean he’d look at Saylor differently now for what she said. “But minskatt…you know I think you’re beautiful, right?” he asked softly.

Aberdeen nodded her head. “I do,” she said confidently. “I know you do. But, like – and no offence – but I think I’m beautiful. And – again, no offence – that’s more important than you thinking it. I have enough confidence in my appearance to not let it affect me. That’s why it doesn’t matter what she said.”

William smiled at her. Proudly. “No offence taken,” he said, biting his lip. “That’s all that matters. Still makes me want to talk to her though.”

Aberdeen whipped around so she could face him. “Don’t you dare,” she warned.

William’s smile turned from prideful to facetious. “Gotcha.”

Aberdeen scrunched her face at him, but he didn’t care. He dipped down and kissed her again, refusing to stop even as he picked her up in his arms and placed her on the vanity. He stood in between her thighs as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, not wanting to ever stop. “You know I think you’re pretty great, right?” he mumbled against her lips.

Aberdeen stopped, their faces only inches apart as she stared at him, smiling slightly. She brought her hand up and let her thumb caress his bottom lip, the slightest bit swollen from all their kissing. His eyes were so, so blue as she looked into them. Sometimes she didn’t think he was real. “I think you’re pretty great, too.”

187 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Note

Do you think you could do headcanons for if Richie got a woman pregnant on a one-night-stand, and the woman just ended up dropping the baby on his doorstep, and how the losers, including Richie, would react?

- let’s say this happens a few months after Derry 2.0

- because before that Richie was still very deep in the closet and he trying to prove to everyone around him that he’s very heterosexual.

- The woman he has a one night stand with is friends with Steve, mostly because he is secretly hoping she tell Steve about their night

- (Richie thinks Steve is suspecting that he’s gay and want to nip it in the bud)

- They go back to Richie’s place on evening after getting McDonald’s and it’s fine, obviously Richie doesn’t feel anything for her but she’s nice enough that he likes talking to her

- One thing leads to another and they spend the night together

- The next day things aren’t hostile between them but it is akward because Richie is nervously fluttering hoping she’ll go home soon

- She does and they don’t keep in touch, which is fine for Richie. He doesn’t want to feel the guilt every time he looks at her knowing that he used her for his own gain.

- Richie mostly forgets about that night and her, and after Derry he’s too busy to pay that night any thought

- His head over heels for Eddie now, and he’s gearing up to tell him soon.

- He’s waiting for Eddie’s divorce to come through. He doesn’t want to add pressure on Eddie during such a demanding time but, he’s excited for what will happen after.

- So they’re not yet dating, but they’re getting there. It’s just a matter of time.

- And then Steve shows up with his baby one morning.

- He’s pale white, and the hand of which he’s hold the maxicosi is trembling

- Of course, Richie being the trash mouth that he is, starts making fun of him.

- He doesn’t understand why Steve would have a baby with him (as far as he’s heard Steve didn’t want kids) but the comedy gold is right there for grabbing.

- ‘What’s the baby for Steve? Did you father a baby I didn’t know anything about?’

- Uno reverse card

- When Steve bashfully admits that it’s not his kid, but Richie’s, the latter laughs.

- At first he’s convinced it’s just Steve messing with him, but Steve would never go as far as to kidnap a baby.

- He still continues to chuckle even after apprehension starts to take hold him off

- ‘It’s not a joke Richie, this is your daughter.’

- Instead of becoming serious as the situation calls for it, Richie begins to cackle.

- Not laugh, not chuckle or snort, cackle.

- He’s so confused, and flabbergasted and he can’t believe this tiny human thing crying in her crib is his.

- ‘I’m just the messenger man,’ Steve placates, slowly sinking the carrier to the ground.

- When Richie is finally done laughing ( it goes on for a very long time) Steve is itching to get out of there.

- He leaves with very little more explanation other than; ‘it was your one night stand from a few months ago, she doesn’t have a name yet, and her mother is refusing to take care of her.

- Richie finds himself just staring at this tiny little thing that’s beginning to cry and whimper as she kicks her tiny feet in the air.

- She starts to cry earnestly after about five minutes, not to fond of not being payed attention too for so long

- Richie tries to shush her gently, but it’s a baby and they don’t listen to what anyone tells them too.

- The cries grow in intensity, and Richie’s slowly losing his mind.

- He’s pacing his apartment, in a daze. He’s working on automatic pilot, because he can’t comprehend the fact that he just became a father, he’s clueless about what to do

- His own daughters birthday remains a mystery to him for god sake.

- If Richie were thinking logically, he’d call Steve and ask him to come back and explain everything in a better way, but he’s not, and he can only think with his emotions.

- He ends up calling Ben and Bev.

- His first instinct was to call Eddie, seeing as Eddie is his best friend and all, but Eddie would panicked just as much as him and that would be of no help.

- Reaching out to Stan also pops up in his mind, but he can’t deal with cynical saying right now. He needs people who will be sympathetic towards him and hopefully tell him what to do.

- On the phone he barely explains anything to bev and Ben, but he does tell them to hurry up.

- When they get to the apartment, Ben and Bev are shocked at seeing the little baby, and get concerned after Richie fails to give them an answer about how or why she’s in his house.

- Regardless, they step up up to the task and do their best to take care of the girl they know nothing about.

- Ben drives to the store to get formula and blankets and diapers, while Bev fishes her out of her crib and begins to slowly rock her. They’re both calm and collected.

- Richie on the other hand is snapping out of his haze, and the reality of the situation begins to dawn on him.

- Bev tries to console him but it’s hard when she has zero background information.

- Ben comes back and heats up her formula, but she refuses to drink and lets out a piercing cry in refusal.

- Even Bev’s rocking isn’t doing anything the south the baby, and out of desperation, Richie begins to cry.

- Because Bev is out of option herself, and doesn’t have a clue on how to help Richie, she passes him the baby.

- Richie is terrified of holding this petit thing that fits just exactly right in his arms. He’s scared of crushing her or dropping her and messing her up for life.

- But miraculously, as soon as she’s snuggled in his arms, she stops crying.

- She’s just content to lay there with her dad, who eventually tries to bottle feed her and it works. She eagerly drinks from it.

- First crisis evaded

- But, after everyone has processed the first major shock, Richie needs to give Ben and Bev the answers they deserve now.

- Richie tries to be as straight forward as he can, but he hasn’t had the details yet himself.

- The two losers insists that he tells the others of their group right away. It’s too big of a secret to hide, and they need all the help they can get.

- Again, none of the losers are informed as to why they have to go to Richie’s house ASAP, but they still do, because he’s there best friend and they wouldn’t be called if it wasn’t important.

- It’s Stan and Patty that arrive after Bev and Ben.

- Stan and Patty are less astounded for some reason.

- Patty doesn’t even inquire, she just goes straight into cooing over the baby fase.

- She’ll sit next to Richie (still holding his daughter) and begins talking gibberish to the baby about how beautiful she is.

- Richie agrees.

- Stan follows her lead, but he simply observes the two of them together and then sits near touching to Richie.

- ‘I should have know you’d be the first one with a kid Trashmouth.’

- But he doesn’t lecture Richie, or starts to interrogate him about anything.

- He must have sensed that Richie wasn’t up to it at the moment.

- Bill and Mike are next.

- Within stepping one food inside the place, and spotting Richie with a baby, Bill laughs, and asks him who he knocked up.

- He intends it as a joke, obviously, but when no one else laughs, he realises how right he is.

- ‘Richie... have you been keeping your baby from us for three months?’ Mike asks, a little offended.

- ‘What do you mean three months?’

- ‘She’s clearly three months old. You can tell by her development.’ When everyone just stares at him, Mike explains further. ‘I had a lot of time on my my hands after you all left Derry. Maybe I spend that time reading children books.’

- He doesn’t more time to elaborate, because that’s the moment Eddie arrives.

- It’s his reaction Richie is most frightened off.

- He’s in love with Eddie, loves him with all his heart, but he can’t ask Eddie to date a man that just became a father. That would mean not only choosing him, but also his child.

- Eddie looks at the baby, at Richie and then back, and follows it up by cursing;’what the fuck’. loudly.

- The harsh sound startles the baby, but with a gentle kiss on the forehead that Richie gives her, she’s pacified back into sleep.

- ‘Oh shit, oh no. I need an explanation, right now.’

- Richie explains the story yet again, and hopes that none of his friends will label him as an asshole at the end of it.

- Of course they don’t, but Eddie is headed up over the whole situation.

- ‘I know a lot of lawyers after my divorce with Myra, I could hook you up someone.’

- ‘She can’t just dump her baby on you without any of the proper paperwork. What if she has a deadly disease and needs to get continuos treatment?’

- Eddie’s ‘advice’ turns Richie’s complexion green, and his stomach in knots. He’s never had to thought of that stuff before, and now he has a whole human being that depends on him for everything.

- Stan snaps at Eddie to stop him from adding more stress onto Richie, which Eddie does with a guilty apologie.

- ‘Look Richie,’ Stan says to him with full seriousness. ‘You need to decide what you’re going to do,and unfortunately you do not have a lot of time. You cannot put this off, she needs a name, and a crib and everything she needs to survive. You need to make a decision if you’re keeping her.’

- Richie gazes down upon his baby. The same baby he hasn’t let go off from the second he held her. He’s so scared, beyond explanation or able to put it in words, but this is his daughter. He could give her up for adoption, and he live would remain the same, but he knows she excites now, and to give her away to strangers? He don’t think he could have the heart.

- But...

- ‘I can’t do it by myself’, he admits, voice small and honest.

- ‘You’d never have to.’ Eddie responds, one of his fingers stroking over the ring babies head. He looks absolutely smitten.

- His life was uprooted once again, but last time the change wasn’t bad at all. Richie is confident, this won’t be bad either.

- Barely a month later Eddie moves in with them full time, and becomes pops to Maggie lover Tozier.

#adult reddie #reddie #reddie hc #hc #losers club hc #it chapter two #it chapter two hc #my writing #Richie has a daughter #Richie as a dad #Richie as a father #the losers are very supportive

68 notes · View notes

vampcubus · 5 years

Text

Put a Ring on it (Midoriya/Reader | nsfw)

| A/n: I told you guys I was on some shit at 4 AM this morning and this is what spawned from it. |

the title is another fucking joke because I’m the unfunniest person on the planet

✧✿ Warnings: nsfw!! Flavored lube, cock rings, vibin’, lingerie. ✿✧

✧✿ Words: 3200+ (this was s u p p o s e d to be short) ✿✧

. . .

You were buzzing restlessly around the house, trying to contain your excitement as you counted the minutes, eagerly awaiting your boyfriend to come home. You’d been given your first day off in months and you'd spent it out and about with some friends, shopping here and there. The rest of the day you spent cleaning up around the house, baking, and prettying yourself up for what you hoped would be an intimate night with Izuku once he got off work.

You messed with your hair again as you passed a mirror in the living room, smoothing down your comfy clothes and straightening the lacy white bra and panty set underneath. You didn't buy a whole lot of lingerie since most of it was “lost in battle”—courtesy of your cheeky boyfriend who always managed to accidentally rip each set you got in the heat of the moment. But you still liked to prance around the house in it sometimes, just letting yourself feel sexy before you'd have to sadly throw the tattered remains away the next morning.

But the lingerie wasn't what you were really excited about.

As you hummed to yourself and twirled away from the mirror to check the cookies, your eyes flickered to the shiny, red bag on the arm of the sofa. In it resides some fun new additions to your and Izuku’s little “collection” you'd picked up with your friends while passing through a rather scandalous store. It'd been a joke in conversation, but little did your friends know that you planned entirely to put them to good use.

You and Izuku didn't need toys to have a good time, but it sure made things interesting on those nights you wanted to experiment. You hoped tonight would be one of those nights.

As you set the hot tray of sugar cookies on the stove to cool and turned off the oven, the doorknob jingled and in walked an exhausted-yet-chipper looking Midoriya. Your eyes lit up like stars and you slid over to him from the kitchen, colorful socks making you slide across the wood floor effortlessly, and you throw your arms around him.

“Hi, baby!” You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and hugged around his neck affectionately. “How was work?”

Izuku’s own arms squeeze around you and he nuzzles your cheek with his own, smiling widely under your affections.

“Hi, princess, it was good. Nothing too bad today.” He says as you release him and slink back into the kitchen.

He takes off his shoes and hero-gear in the living room, though his eyes wander to the kitchen every five seconds, wondering what you were making in there.

Izuku pops his head into the kitchen to see you sliding cookies from the tray onto a plate. He creeps as quietly as he can and once you put down the still-hot pan he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you against him.

“You made cookies?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. What a beggar, he's lucky he has the most effective puppy dog eyes on the planet.

“Yes, I was having cravings, and they’re still hotter than Todoroki’s left ass-cheek so I wouldn't touch ‘em yet.” You snort and he makes a face.

“You say that as if you know from experience, Is there something you're not telling me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you swat at his hands as they prod at your cheeks.

“Yeah, it's that you need a shower.” You chuckle, scrunching your nose up at the smell of sweat and a day’s worth of grind attacks it.

“I'm actually right with you on that one. Won't be long.” He says kissing your shoulder, and then slipping away to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

In the meantime you clean up the kitchen and yourself again, snagging the red bag from the sofa and setting it down on your nightstand in your shared room. You hopped onto the bed shimmying your comfy shorts off your legs and fling them into the laundry basket across the room, straightening your baggy All Might t-shirt. You grab your phone from the nightstand and dabble on it to pass the time, smiling at a picture Mina sent you of Kirishima’s frightened reaction upon having a monster dildo shoved in his face.

You giggle, recognizing it as the one you saw Mina buy at the adult store.

After a few minutes of scrolling, you heard that magical sound of the bathroom door opening. Your excitement skyrockets and you struggle to keep it in, hiding your grin behind your phone as Izuku walks into the bedroom, towel around his waist and another being used to dry his hair. You eye him as he gets dressed, tracing his toned form with your eyes as he slides into a pair of boxers and a random t-shirt. He flops onto the bed beside you, almost knocking your phone out of your hand.

“So, what did you do today?” He asks, and the sinister grin no longer shielded by your phone makes him narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“Went out shopping with the girls, picked up some… things.” You smiled at the confused distrustful expression on his face, setting down your phone and snuggled up to his side.

Despite his suspicion he gladly wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him and nuzzling his nose into your hair. You sling a leg over his hip to push yourself impossibly closer to him and that’s when he notices your panties. Using his intuition, he starts to put the pieces together and grins excitedly, rolling you over on your back so he can kneel between your knees hands already smoothing up your thighs to grasp the hem of your baggy shirt.

“Can I see?” Izuku asks, and you smile at the childish anticipation you see in his big green eyes as they skim over your body.

“Of course, I got it for you after all.” You giggle sitting up so he could slide the All Might t-shirt up and over your head.

You let yourself fall back onto the covers once it’s off, and blush lightly under his eyes as they drink in the white lingerie. It’s more cute than sexy, simple and mostly see-through with floral lace patterns adorning the bra, and a more opaque but equally beautiful fabric used for the tiny panties. You gasp and stifle a laugh when his rough fingers pass over the skin of your belly, fingers dancing across every strip of exposed flesh. When you look away from his hands to see his expression you feel your heart swell with affection when you see the loving way his eyes gaze at you, wide green eyes flickering up to your face every now and then.

Finally, he smiles and nuzzles his face into your stomach trailing wet kissing across your belly making you squirm and tug playfully at his damp hair. “I like this one.”

“You always say that.” you roll your eyes, a light-hearted smile on your lips.

“But I do! This one doesn’t cover you up as much.” Izuku mutters shyly, flushed face looking up at you between your breasts. “You’re beautiful in everything you wear.”

“Well~ If you like this one so much let’s try not to rip it this time.” You tease and his freckled cheeks flush a bright red and he buries his nose between your boobs, embarrassed.

“I don’t mean to, it just… happens.” He laughs nervously and you card your fingers through his hair affectionately, smiling down at him to let him know you were only teasing.

It’s as if suddenly the mood changes and Izuku starts suckling marks between your breasts where it spills out slightly, lips tracing the edge of the bra. You hum as his tongue licks a stripe from your chest to the base of your neck where he starts sucking darker marks into the flesh. His large hand wraps loosely around the base of your neck as he bites down on the sweet spot just below your jaw, and your back arches into him slightly. His other hand smoothes over your breast and squeezes.

His lips finally meet yours and you eagerly press back against his timid lips, moving your own against his. Your legs untangle themselves from his and wrap around his hips, pressing his weight down onto you. The feeling of him twitching to life against your thigh reminds you of what you’d planned tonight and you smile against his lips, which he returns until you pull away from his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours curiously and you place two hands against his chest, pushing slightly, he rolls off of you likely thinking you weren’t letting him top tonight—which might just be true depending on how he behaved.

“This isn’t all I bought today, Izu.” You purr reaching over for the shiny red bag on the nightstand and snatching it, sitting cross-legged with the bag in your lap, waiting for him to do the same.

“I picked out some things for our toybox!” You beam devilishly, eyes gleaming as his own excited ones meet yours with a nervous smile.

“Buuuut, I don’t wanna spoil all of it yet, here catch!” You reach into the bag and pull out a bottle, tossing it over to him. He catches it and examines the colorful label of the bottle, raising a brow at you from across the bed.

“Chocolate lube?” Izuku reads aloud, and you nod exuberantly.

“Yeah, cool right? Mina suggested it so I thought we’d try it out.” You say nonchalantly, looking through the contents of the bag distractedly as he continues to stare at the bottle.

You’re too occupied to notice, but the green-haired boy is deep in thought, eyes flickering from the bottle of sweet-flavored lube and your smiling face, down to your curves still donned in white lingerie. A dark blush spreads across his face as he imagines you covered in chocolate and whip cream, him licking it from your sweet skin, the sticky syrup-like lube dripping between your breasts. His eyes darken even more at the image if you dragging the flat of your tongue up a trail of chocolate from his abs to his chin, your body sliding across his own.

His imagination definitely has him aching and straining within the confines of his boxers, making him gasp in his throat as the underside length brushes against the fabric, even the tiniest bit of friction making him twitch.

You catch his eye from across the covers and your eyes widen at the flushed and hungry look Izuku his sending your way, almost dazed, still holding the bottle of chocolate lube. You grin, what a cutie. You glance down to see him delightfully hard between his thighs and feel the twitchy beginnings of arousal start between your own. You set the bag aside for now and crawl on all fours over to him, snapping him out of whatever dirty fantasy he’d been consumed with. You push him down onto the bed and sit on top of his thighs.

You lean down and start to trail kisses down the length of his torso, starting at his pecs and making your way down, running your tongue over each raised scar, making him gasp. You drag your tongue downward, looping your fingers under the hem of his boxers and pulling them down and off. Izuku shudders violently when you trace a teasing fingertip up one side of his twitching cock, pressing down on a vein running up the length of it.

You take the bottle of lube he’d been clutching for dear life, and flick open the cap, keeping eye contact as you tip the bottle and pour a generous amount onto his member, watching him squirm and gasp as the cool liquid dribbles down the head to the base of his cock. You snap the cap shut hand the bottle back to him, which he shakily accepts as your fingers wrap around his length and start to slowly pump him from base to tip. You’re getting wetter by the minute, drinking in every sound he makes, every twitch and roll of his hips up into your hand going straight to your sex.

You lean forward and peck his lips before releasing his length and moving so you’re laying on top of him, though upside down so you can face his length as you continue to stroke him, your own hips level with Izuku’s hungry eyes. You lean forward and press the flat of your pink tongue against the head of his cock, slick with chocolate-flavored lube and his own pre. You lick happily up one side of his length and moan as the distinct taste of chocolate graces your tongue, and you eagerly take him into your mouth. Izuku moans loudly into the open air, hips bucking up against your face and hands clutching around your soft thighs as he shakes.

“Please…” He whimpers, even as your mouth swallows his length he finds himself pleading for more, hissing as your teeth lightly graze his cock in warning as his hips jerk up against your face again. He struggles to keep them still, biting his tongue, only for a high-pitched cry to escape his lips when you take all of him in at once. “Please, ah!”

Your eyes flutter open in pleasant surprise when you feel his tongue press against your core through your thin panties, shivering in pleasure as he laps at your heat through the lace. You’re not sure why he hasn’t taken it off yet, he really must like this one you think to yourself, smiling around him as he passes through your lips again, tip kissing your throat and making your eyes water. The chocolate flavor has dissipated, merging into his natural musky taste as you continue sucking him without the lube, you don’t wanna get your new toy too dirty after all.

You sigh once he finally pushes your panties to the side and starts to devour you without them blocking the way, his tongue dragging through your lips and pressing against your quivering entrance. His tongue laps over your swollen clit and you grind down against his face, shivering when he moans against your heat, hips bucking against your face again, but you permit him this time since you’re pushing yourself against his face too now. You mewl around his cock when you feel something cold drip onto your pussy with the absence of his tongue, popping off of his length to look back and see what he was up to back there surprising you like that!

Izuku grins back at you from between your legs, snapping the cap back onto the bottle of chocolate lube. That sneaky little— “Oh! Izu—mmmnnh! Ahh.”

You shake when his tongue starts lapping at you again, but more vigorously than before, slurping at the sweet-flavored lube and dipping between your folds and against your sensitive clit. You moan when his tongue wriggles inside of you, your thighs shaking in his hands. It didn’t help that he was shamelessly moaning and whimpering against your sex, creating such delicious vibrations.

Oh, so that’s how it is huh? A contest to see who could make who cum first? Well, let’s see how he handles a few new sensations shall we?

You use one hand to continue pumping him as your other dug around in the bag before pulling out a purple ring. His eyes tried to follow your hand as it retreats from the bag, but his eyes are forced closed when your hand squeezes him unexpectedly. Izuku gasps when he feels you roll something tight around his cock, sliding a band down to the base and letting the ring snap against his flesh, making him jump and whimper. He squirms around some as he tries to get used to the feeling, but then it starts to vibrate.

You feel your body clench when Izuku lets out a wail so unguarded it shakes you to the very core, his hips bucking uncontrollably into the friction of your palm and the overwhelming vibrations of the purple cock ring.

“AH, Y/N—w-what is th-tha~t? Mhn! Ah!” Izuku wheezes, his helpless moans filling the room and making you drip even more. He squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his teeth but it’s no use, his hips buck sporadically into your hand as the cock ring drives him towards his orgasm, and fast. “Fuck, it’s so… it’s so good!”

You gasp when you feel his mouth return to your heat, tongue sloppily lapping at your juices and pushing inside of you. His noises become distorted gurgles, muffled against your pussy as he frantically eats you out, still fighting to shove you over the edge before you force him over his. You wrap your lips around his cock again in defiance, swallowing him whole. You snatch the bottle of lube from his hand pressed against your ass and coat your finger in chocolate. Izuku’s eyes roll back into his head when he feels your finger prodding at his own entrance, your lubed fingertip pressing into him and pressing against that magic button inside of him straight on.

Izuku lets out a scream, hips bucking into your mouth and fingers as his orgasm tears through him, white flashing behind his eyelids and waves of white-hot ecstasy surging through his entire body at once as his cum spills into your awaiting mouth. Your own orgasm rips you apart from every nerve ending and pleasure spot inside of you as you convulse around his tongue and squirm in his arms. The ring vibrates even through his release, and your mouth milks him dry, sucking him even as you come down from your own high.

Izuku squirms and whimpers as he quickly becomes overstimulated, trying to wiggle away from your touch instead of into it this time.

“Y/N, please… no more, I can’t t-take any more.” He whines, nuzzling his face into your thigh, teary-eyed and breathing heavily.

You mercifully let him slide from your mouth and pull off the purple ring, clicking it off and flinging it somewhere for you to find and clean later. You rest your cheek against his abdomen, catching your breath on top of him. Eventually, you feel yourself being rolled off onto the mattress and tugged into Midoriya’s strong arms, his t-shirt still bunched up just under his arms, having only been pushed up to expose his chest, but neither of you really care at the moment.

“Mmh, thank you, princess.” Izuku murmurs into your hair, hands stroking up and down your sides, playing with the edge of your bra that had miraculously evaded being torn or flung off of you. “I like our new toy too.” He chuckles, wincing when the foggy image of you using it on him just moments ago makes his soft hero twitch just slightly.

“It’s not the only one I got, Izu.” You grin devilishly against his shoulder and he tenses, gulping as your fingers smear lube on his lower lip. There’s a dangerous glint in your eyes, and he knows this night is far from over.

“Can I at least have a cookie first?” Izuku asks anxiously and you only smile.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya imagine #deku x reader #smut #n/sfw #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #izuku is babie #come and get ya'll juice #my hero academia

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refriedweeb · 4 years

Text

LET ME SANCTIFY YOUR BODY (SHINSOU + PLUS SIZED READER 18+)

A/N: refriedweeb here my little chickadees. Here’s another plus size reader one for all my beautiful thick babes out there. I’ve started hardcore sipping over everyone’s fave emo boy (who I always thought would prefer a thicker girl bc it just screams at you he would be) not responsible for any emotional trauma caused. ALSO, I used the same quirk from the Hawks’ series I have going on don’t judge me it’s honestly my favorite quirk I’ve thought up (and totally not bc I'm self-inserting) also if anyone draws y/n/me/yourself in this hero costume y/n chooses I'd die bc I think it’s so incredible

Prompt: Your hero agency has been pressuring you into a more scant, sexually appealing hero costume. Though you’re a hero, you’re still coming to accept your body and feel that the new costume they’ve put you in is anything but. Your boyfriend has other thoughts.

Tags/Warnings: body worship, oral, sex, spanking, shinsou being an absolute god

Word Count: 6,009

You stared at yourself in the reflection of the mirror in your bedroom. It’d been a long, exhausting past couple of weeks between you and the hero agency you worked for. They were insistent on changing up your hero costume, eager to add some sex appeal and tighter material around the assets that made you such a ‘feast’ as they called it. You were fuller figured, plump in spots that other female heroes weren’t. Your curves had caught the eye of the media surrounding the hero discourse, and you’d become something of a source of body positivity for the public. It wasn’t about your health, rather, but that strength and power came at any size, and a hero didn’t need to look like the heroes of the past in order to do good and be worthy of everything you had in your life. At first you’d been a little skeptical, sure that the other shoe was going to drop and you were going to be shunned for the tummy you had, the thickness of thighs that made you look ‘more beautiful than Venus being born’ according to one of the magazines that had commented on your body.

However, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with the hero costume you’d been rocking prior to the media’s public obsession with you. It hid the insecurities that you wished to conceal, like that very tummy so many people had started to praise. The dimples in your thighs that showed through in the latex and skin tight material that made up so much of hero costumes. Many designers of said hero costumes had been scrambling to get their designs to your hero agency, practically groveling for you to pick theirs. You’d left that day after your seemingly endless patrol (thankful that nothing out of the ordinary outside of small, petty crimes) had come to an end. But...that didn’t mean the work was over just yet. The agency you worked in had been persistent that you needed to pick a new costume by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday.

Your eyes moved from the mirror to the laid out costumes on the bed. The hero alias you went by was that of Nightmare. Your quirk was an Emitter quirk, and worked in a way that many people had been careful to get within your reach of. Once you activated your quirk, you could raise your target’s worst nightmare into a warped physical reality around them, or at least they perceived it to be a physical reality. What it really was, was a field of false reality with layers so thick it was hard to look through in order to see that it wasn’t real at all. A hallucination of the worst kind. You, much like your boyfriend Shinsou, had been people that your fellow classmates had thought would be best as villains, rather than heroes. People didn’t trust you, didn’t want to get to close to you lest you reach out a hand to their forehead and bring forth their own personal hell.

They wanted to make someone they had once demanded be too dangerous to be a trustworthy hero into a sex symbol. The fleeting thought caused you to snort, your eyes moving back over the costume layout once more. Shinsou hadn't popped around to yours yet, likely still finishing out his own patrol. His opinions might have helped, but you weren’t sure when he’d get to yours and you’d rather get the uncomfortable trial and error of why your body didn’t look right in any of the costumes that had been sent to you over with. That way you could curl up in bed under the sheets and wait for Shinsou’s warm embrace. It’d always managed to make you feel better when you were sure the world hated everything about you. That very reason had been one of the reasons you and Shinsou had bonded so quickly. The world was determined to make you a villain before you’d even had a chance to prove them otherwise. You were each other’s biggest support system, the team cheerleader while you raced to make the world a better place.

What would Nightmare wear? What would the unstoppable, dangerous Nightmare wear? The first costume was definitely not your speed, a deep plum color that was beautiful on its own. Yet, it was cut deep in the back with a half-peplum tiered skirt at the back of your waist. To you, it made you feel like a joke of a circus ring leader, feeling more like an overripe raspberry than a hero worth going toe to toe with. You didn’t have a body like Midnight or Mt. Lady. You were fuller all around, a pooch of a stomach that stuck out more than theirs, thighs that were thicker in muscle and fat then theirs. An ass, that as Shinsou had once said when he was drunk on sake, wouldn’t quit. Once again, you didn’t see anything wrong with the hero costume you had now. It was baggier, yes, allowing you to obscure a body you hadn’t fully come to terms with despite the years of progress you’d made with self-acceptance. Sure, the trench jacket did nothing to show off much of the body you’d worked hard to maintain and love, but it hadn’t been about how good you looked. It’d been about being able to do good and save people from villains. If you’d wanted to be judged for your looks, you would have signed up to be a model. But hero politics were the same politics that existed in every aspect of reality, and you had gotten used to it. It was really only a matter of time that you’d be up next in the line of speculation. The first costume was a hard no, and you peeled yourself out of it already feeling the sinking feeling of defeat as it crawled up into your spine.

The second costume was better in some aspects, worse in others. It was black in color which was much more your speed, with a black mask to match that shielded the top half of your face. Yet, over your bust and over the widest part of your hips ran horizontal white lines, giving the effect of making them appear wider than they were. It wasn’t as if they just ran the front of the costume, either. Traced around your back and your butt, you only felt that sinking feeling grow. You looked wrong, and felt worse. There was no way people actually thought this was going to look good on you, did they? An annoyed sigh passed through your nose, doing one last turn around in the mirror confirmed your thoughts. These people had no idea what would look good on you. The cynical part of you was sure that this was the other shoe dropping. This was some grand joke that you were the punch line of. If you picked any of these costumes you’d be ridiculed for your body just like you’d been when you were a kid. That mere thought sparked tears in your eyes, but you pushed them down. There was one costume left. Though you didn’t have much hope for it.

You were so in your negative thoughts at the moment as you stripped down from the second costume, you hadn’t heard the front door of your place open and close. Nor the sound of shoes being kicked off.

The third costume was by far the most aesthetically pleasing to your tastes. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, it’d been the one you thought would be best. It was a one piece jumpsuit as the rest had been, cut deep in the front and back, low plunges that exposed everything to your naval in the front, and the small curve of your lower back. Though where freshly exposed skin would have been free, black mesh was laid overtop to give the graft appearance. There were winding slits down the long sleeves of the costume, making the mesh look like ropes winding down the length of strong arms and deliciously thick thighs. The mesh at the lower back connected to the beginnings of the mesh at the back of your thighs, lining up with the mesh that curved down from your naval and over your hips to meet up with the front mesh of your thighs. The mesh of the costume was one continuous running line, and you had to admit you liked how it shaped your body. It was tight as the other costumes, and certainly left nothing to the imagination of anyone who’d see you. If you picked this costume, everyone would know what it was you were working with. And that was what they wanted, right? The final costume was by far your favorite, opening and closing the fingerless gloves that had come with it. But were you okay with the world seeing the rest of your body? You didn’t think you were ugly by any means, and hadn’t felt ugly since you were a teenager. But...that didn’t mean the world wouldn’t take that chance to pick you apart if they thought you’d gotten too confident.

You leaned up on your toes, angling to this way and that so you could get a full view of how you’d be seen from all angles. Your hand rolled over the little pooch of your belly, over the curve of your backside into that meshed lower back of the costume. The way your thighs blossomed against the costume, looking strong as hell. In the platformed boots you wore to do hero work, it’d look good. You thought. But was it too risky? Would you look like a joke? Your shoulders sagged in defeat, not sure you had the confidence to pull this off like the world seemed to think you did.

“Well, well...” came that deep drawl of the man you cared so deeply for. You jumped, completely unaware that for the last five minutes you’d been examining yourself in the mirror, that Shinsou had been eyeing you up from his position. Leaned against the frame of the door, hands tucked into his pockets with a shameless look on his face. “These those new hero costumes you were talking about?”

Once you were sure you wouldn’t about faint from the racing of your heart, you nodded. “Yeah, they weren’t that great,” you said and jutted your chin to the ones you’d hung back up on their hangers to be sent back. “Those were the first two options, and they looked...gross on me.” you said, voice dropping as the negative term against yourself left your throat. Shinsou angled a brow upwards question, violet eyes moving over to look at them. He doubted that they looked bad on you, almost disappointed he hadn’t gotten to see your skin slip under that tight material, the way it ran so flush over that body of yours he’d worshipped for so long. For all Shinsou cared, you could be running around in a trash bag and he’d find a way to think you were the most beautiful person in the world. But, one thought he shared in common with you on the first two hero costumes, was that they didn’t speak Nightmare. Your quirk was exceptional, like his in a way. It needed something as equally daring, as enticing as you were.

“I doubt that...” Shinsou strolled over to look at them, running the fabric of the raspberry suit between thumb and forefinger. “But they’re not you. They’re too tame for you.” the comment was innocent enough, but your mouth dried up at it. Sunken eyes moved over to look at you once more in that black suit number, one that he found himself to be a growing fan of. “What about that one?” His expression was hungry as he dragged his gaze up and down your body, over the curves showed off so freely.

Shinsou had never had an issue with your body. Rather, he preferred a partner that was on the thicker side to begin with. He liked being able to feel you in his hands without worry about hurting you too much. Your skin was a comfort to him, the way you were soft and plush drove him up a fucking wall. He might not have been the biggest fan of public affection, but when it was just the two of you he couldn’t keep his greedy hands off you. And how could he? Even in that moment, his fingers twitched with the carnal need to have your flesh under the pads of his fingers.

“It’s definitely the best of the bunch.” You shrugged, hand running down the shape of your belly once more, your mind still stuck on whether or not it was going to get you ridiculed. “I just don’t...I think it’s too much. I don’t think...” you trailed off. “I don’t know if I look good in it.”

The sound of a snort from behind you had you meeting Shinsou’s gaze through the mirror. He wore an incredulous expression as if you’d just claimed that there was no such thing as gravity. He shook his head and approached you slowly. “You’re kidding, right?” Shinsou stood behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel the half-hard length of him pressed against your backside. “You don’t think you look amazing in this, (Y/N)?”

A blush hit your cheeks as his hands rested on your shoulders. “It’s not that, Shi. I just don’t...I guess...I don’t think people will want to see me like this. So...exposed.” Being sexy wasn’t the problem here. It was how others would see you and if they’d take the same thought away that the agency had, that Shinsou had, that some of the media had about you. You could take being ridiculed for your ability to act as an hero, if you messed up on the job or anything like that. Those criticisms pertained to your ability to help and change the world, and nothing to do with your physical appearance. Changing your hero costume would open up that path to criticisms about your appearance that had never been there before.

“Ah...so that’s it.” Without having to say much, Shinsou understood where your mindset was. He sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. Had he not shown you how beautiful you were each time he settled his mouth or his cock between your thighs? Had he not told you how you were the only person who was ever going to have his eye whether you were dolled up in a face full of makeup or drooling while you slept? The last thing he wanted for you to feel about yourself was inadequate because of how much you weighed or what your body looked like. He knew it wasn’t for him to decide, that only you could determine your self-worth, but you were perfect for him. And if he was selfless enough to let the world see you how he saw you, he would in a heartbeat. But just because he wanted the world to see it, didn’t mean he was a fan of sharing. Timidly, you met his indigo gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “Here’s what I think, kitten.”

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers started to ghost over your shoulders. “I think...” He slowed his movements, tracing the seam where mesh met spandex, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed as they followed where his fingers met. They ended at the inner point of the V that formed the front of a potentially new costume. Goosebumps erupted over your skin wherever his fingers trailed, and all you could do was watch in the mirror as his head came to rest on your shoulder, doing the same. “This looks downright sinful...” his fingers moved back up the V of the spandex material, only to pause as his fingers cupped the fullness of your breasts, thumbs whispering over piqued nipples. He hovered there for a moment, tracing circles around them as you shivered against the well defined muscle of his chest. “Not a thing left to the imagination...” Shinsou murmured, taking as his hands swept over the top of your chest to your shoulders, slowly down your arms. The winding tightness between your thighs had started, and he’d only been gentle with you so far. His thumbs moved along your inner forearm, traced circles along the sensitive part of your inner wrist before they flowed back up the length of your arms, returning to your breasts where he pulled and teased once more. “You’re telling me I might have to share this with the public...”

Shinsou’s eyes, a beautiful shade of setting sun, were narrowed as his hands traveled down the mesh material of your stomach once more. His fingers spread as he traced your belly, fingers bent just slightly so you felt the drag of his fingertips through the material of the suit. It was just a prototype, after all. The real work effectiveness of the suit would be put in place if you agreed to have it. At the sensation of his nails scratching along your stomach, your thighs turned inwards, backside pressing in against a growing erection. It only caused Shinsou to smile that smarmy smirk that had caught your attention all those years ago at UA. “You’re telling me everyone’s going to get to see this goddess body I get to claim night after night...” Shinsou continued, pulling the soft pudge of your skin in his hands as he raked them to the side to grip your hips. Those fucking hips. His fingers dug in sharper there, knowing your skin could handle it. So full, so fucking lush. “Hell, kitty, you might just raise the crime rate because everyone wants to see you in this costume...” He released his iron grip on your hips, hands sweeping towards your backside to grab at the bountiful ass you had. How it drove him up a fucking wall to see how it bounced against his hips when he took you from behind. “You have no idea...” Shinsou paused to pull up the legs of his pants before he squatted down to his knees, his hands still on your ass.

“How fucking good you look in this...” You were speechless as he continued to knead at your ass, giving that plump backside of yours a soft slap that sounded through the room. He worshipped your body day in and day out, and had simply no problem letting you know how much he loved every square inch of it. Shinsou let out a low hum. His hands continued their march, coming to cup the lower part of your ass in his hands. He was greedy when it came to this, the best fucking handful and then some any god could have given him. “Your ass looks so fucking good...” he whispered, side of his face nuzzled up against the curve of your thigh. One hand slipped from the grip it has on your backside, slipping between your thighs. An idle thumb swept through your lips, so thick and full that when he ate you out he simply rested his head there. A sharp gasp escaped you, rolling into the touch that ended before it’d even begin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou, that devilish smile there once more. “And these fucking thighs...” he whispered, his second hand repeated that sinful sweeping motion between your legs, his hands gripping your inner thighs, slowing pulling them apart. All the while, you watched through the mirror, his eyes zeroed in on the puffy mound of your pussy that seemed particularly swollen in that jumpsuit. “These fucking thighs that I love to have wrapped around my head...” Shinsou turned in so his nose was pressed against your left thigh, his teeth soon enough caught the material of the jumpsuit between them and pulled it back from your supple skin. A moment later, a sharp snap hit the air as it slapped back against your skin, causing you to squirm. “You’re telling me the world is gonna know how fucking delicious these thighs are...”

He wasn’t the jealous sort, Shinsou. He knew that you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t want to be. That you came home to every night because you wanted to. In that sense he was secure in his relationship with you. But he wanted to make it astoundingly clear to you just how beautiful your body was, and how everyone else in the world who had their head screwed on tight enough was going to see it too. He was hungry to devour you in that suit right there, to fuck you and mark you so greedily so that the world would know his mark on you, but this wasn’t about him or his selfish wants. This was about making you feel like the strongest, sexiest, most powerful woman on the entire earth. And based off the heat he was feeling so close to his hands that gripped your thighs, his mission was working. He hummed, digging his fingers into your skin. “I could spend hours on your skin, kitten.” he murmured, his nose inching up the length of your thigh to where it curved, the crease of hip into thigh his goal. “Kissing it all over, tasting all of you...” you squirmed as Shinsou shifted on the ground slightly, so that he knelt in front of you. The sight of him looking up at you, sunken eyes dark with lust, made your waver on your knees. It was next to holy imagery, his legs spread wide, hands gripping your thighs for purchase as if he didn’t, he’d disappear entirely. “You gonna let me taste you, kitten?”

Shinsou didn’t wait for your answer, moving on his own agenda. He leaned forward into that sweet, tantalizing mound of yours. His nose burrowed in, hands moving up to grip your hips as he pulled you in against him. The flat of his tongue slipped over the clothed length of your cunt, warmth radiating against the sweetness of your pussy as he pulled your thighs apart for him. You moaned out his name, the action he took so simple but enough to threaten you over the cliff. Shinsou had only touched you, slow and measured at that, and this was the first he’d put a hand or tongue where you needed him most. The fabric that had been between your legs was in his mouth, Shinsou sucking on the fabric there to get as much of you in his mouth that had already escaped you while he’d been busy touching you. The fabric fell from his mouth when he was done, slapping against your heat and causing you to jolt forward. Your fingers found themselves wound through the thick tendrils of indigo hair, balancing as he smiled up at you with his head tipped to the side. The look was downright bastardly, and you tugged on his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, breathless.

“No teasing here, baby...” Shinsou breathed, pausing to blow hot air against your sex. “I want to make my girl feel good,” while he spoke, he stroked his middle and index finger up and down the slit of your cunt, pushing in slightly so the fabric dipped in your glaze. “I want to make you feel good about this fucking body I intend to destroy...” He sounded so bored as he played with your pussy that it only drove you crazier. You knew from the bulge in his pants that he was far from bored, but how nonchalant he could be while he was winding that coil of an orgasm tighter and tighter inside of you could have pushed you over the edge. “I want to take my time getting you there...”

You mewled, rocking against his fingers as they slipped back and forth, agonizingly slow in their rhythm. Shinsou had never been a fan of when you doubted yourself or your abilities, your worth and your beauty. This wasn’t exactly what he would have called a punishment, rather a reminder that there wasn’t a single part of you that he would want to change about you, and that you should have felt the same. He worshipped you, every second of every day. Frankly, in his eyes, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to give thanks to whatever deities were out there that created the fucking perfect version of yourself that was stood over him currently. “Sit on my face, kitten.” he drawled, eyes raking upwards over those delicious curves of your body, the thickness of your skin so plump, until he was looking into your eyes. “Let me taste you.”

With the way he’s looking at you, you know you don’t stand a chance of saying no. “Yes,” you rasped out, Shinsou’s hands soothing you as they smoothed up and down your thighs. You took a step back from him, Shinsou staying where he was, frozen as he watched you pull down the suit.

It was like a work of art, his cock hardening as you pulled the front of it down, exposing your mounds of flesh, nipples piqued and flushed from when he’d been teasing them earlier. As the black material folded over your arms, exposing soft skin he ached to get his hands on. Down over your midsection, exposing the little roll over your belly that had his mouth watering. “You look so fucking beautiful,” his voice had hollowed out, thick with need to have your thighs practically suffocating him. He watched the blush deepen on your cheeks, only serving to make him grow harder. His eyes snapped back as the skintight material rolled over your hips and his cock twitched. The way your skin pushed out, full and so fucking desirable from the spandex material sent him over the edge. And then there it was. That glistening pussy with the softest patch of hair extending up towards your naval, a landing strip you’d called it once. Shinsou couldn’t help himself as he reached up to his mouth and ran his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. He could see how wet you were already from the teasing he’d put you through, how your glaze seeped onto the thighs you’d pushed together. He was motionless as you slowly rolled the jumpsuit the rest of the way, over the curve of thighs into calves, finally at those fucking ankles he rather enjoyed having up by his face when he drove into you like a man starved for your fluids.

“You look so fucking tasty, kitten.” he whispered, settled onto his back. Not once had his eyes left yours. “Let me have you, please.” The please and desperation in his voice caused you to squeeze your thighs together again, and he moaned. But you indulged him once he’d taken his shirt off, your eyes directly tracing the spattering of indigo chest hair that lead a thin trail to his naval, the patch at his waist thickening as it disappeared below his pants. Slowly, you lowered yourself until you were sat on his chest. The slickness that spread on his chest from your cunt caused Shinsou to moan as his hands wrapped around your thighs once more, spreading you so he was face to face with that precious cunt he called his. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby.” he said and pulled you forward so that your thighs were pressed in against either side of his head. When he spoke next, the breath he exhaled was right against your heat. “The world’s prettiest cunt, all mine...” Shinsou’s chuckle had you fisting your hands. “One thing I won’t share...”

And then he dived in, having dessert before he’d even had dinner. He’d been aching to get his mouth on your cunt since he’d seen that swollen mound of the hero suit you’d tried on. Now that he had it, he was going to ravage you until you were begging him to stop. His nose pressed in against your mouth, hands spreading your legs further as he lapped noisily against your wet pussy. You were so wet for him already, his tongue lapping up those juices only spurred you to drip more. He was always sloppy when he ate you out, simply because Shinsou wanted to have as much of you on him as possible. You tasted like honey, like a lazy Sunday morning, like the feeling of victory. He slurped and suckled, his teeth grazing over your clit as you found the rhythm of his tongue and started rocking against him. Soon enough the sounds that filled your bedroom were the wet, sloppy noises of Shinsou eating you out, and you whispering his name like a prayer as he suckled on your clit with feral need. His face was slick with your silk glaze, running down his chin and onto his neck, the floor underneath him. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. Your thighs had done what he’d hoped they would, squeezing and flexing against his head as he played with and teased your clit. Shinsou could hardly breathe, but if this was how he was supposed to go, he certainly didn’t mind.

He’d started to flick and circle, traced his tongue around your bundle of nerves faster, and you started to ride his face harder. It was a chase to your orgasm, and just before you reached that finish line, he stopped. A desperate whine escaped you, writhing in an attempt to get back on his tongue and finish out your eye. Except, Shinsou was hiking one leg over his shoulder so that you were off his chest entirely. You whined once more, your core throbbing at how wet his face was. “You taste like fucking heaven...” he groaned as he wiped his fingers over his face, coating his hand in all your silk. Then, he undid the button of his pants, the zipper. And as you adjusted yourself with legs spread, you saw the brilliant pink tip of his cock, dripping pre-cum as he sprung free. You whimpered, desperate to be full once more and to reach your orgasm. Shinsou eyed you up, taking the wetness of your slick from his face in his hand and pumping himself as he came to rest between your thighs once more.

“I want to cum,” you groaned as you reached out, fingers ghosting through the curls of the violet hair around the base of his cock. Shinsou pried your fingers away, returning it to where it’d been beside your head.

“I’m gonna let you, kitten.” he said, as he continued to coat himself in your silken drip. First, he wanted to take a mental picture of how fucking good you looked on the floor. Hair fanned out around your head, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, your divine breasts moving with each movement. On your back, you were subject to his mercy. The only plan Shinsou had was to make you cum, to make you realize how fucking incredible you were. “You feel good for me?” he asked as he pulled you close to him by the legs, leaning over so that he could hike them up over his shoulders.

You nodded, any of the previous doubts about your body and how you looked quieted as you watched Shinsou turn his head to the side and nip at your ankle. “You’re so fucking perfect. These fucking legs drive me wild every time, kitten.” You felt Shinsou pressed up against the entrance of your cunt, feeling him leak onto your slip. “I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself when you look so good.” He was slow as he pushed into you, feeling the stretch around his cock as you moaned out his name. “Your body is fucking perfect,” he said through gritted teeth as he propped himself up on his forearms, leaned in over you so that violet hair hung over your face. Once he started thrusting, he was slow, hitting deep against your walls.

“This tummy is so fucking beautiful,” he groaned as your walls clamped around him once he picked up pace. “Feels so fuckin-nngh,” he sputtered, your feet locked behind his neck. “So good to rest on.” His pace quickened again, purple shaded eyes dropping to your breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts. “These fucking breasts,” he grunted. You whimpered as you felt that mounting wave of your high start to climb again. “So fucking hypnotizing to watch while I fuck you,” he hissed, your hands braced against his muscled biceps as his pace started to turn sloppy. Your nails dug in, and Shinsou tossed his head back as he hit the final turn.

When he looked back down at you, there was carnal need in his eyes. “These fucking lips,” he moaned, leaning down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss that left behind traces of your cunt. “I can’t get enough, kitten...” His tongue ravaged the rows of your teeth, lapped against your tongue as he fought to taste every part of you could. You were at the climax of that wave mounted in your heat, and you moaned his name, the only indicator he needed of to hurry the fuck up. He started to fuck harder into you to the point where bruises were likely to blossom against where his skin slapped against yours. “That’s it, kitten, that’s it.” he cooed, listening to the mewls falling past your lips as you started to spill over, the wet sound of sex filling the room louder than it had been.

Shinsou leaned back just slightly and returned his hand to your clit, the final push you needed as he paid it loving attention. You came undone around his cock and thumb, the shuddering orgasm ripping through you as you cried out his name. Your legs spasmed, squeezing against once more as he followed after you moments later, spilling hot ribbons of cum inside you. He continued to thrust after he’d come, emptying whatever remains he had until he was empty and spent. Breathless, Shinsou flopped against your chest. His head rested against your breast, moving in time with your rapid breaths that mirrored his own. His thumbs traced loving circles over your hips, his cock soft inside you but Shinsou not wanting to leave you aching and empty of him just yet. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, swallowing heavily.

Your hands raked through the thick wave of indigo hair, gentle as you combed through it. Words and thoughts were out of your functionality for a passage of time, but when you finally remembered how to do both, you asked a simple question. One that you really already knew the answer to, no longer abashed about how it hugged the curves of your body, just another indicator that you were human. After how much attention Shinsou had dedicated to your body, you almost felt silly for having felt insecure to begin with. “The black suit?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the breast opposite the one he was slumped on. Shinsou turned his head slightly so that he could look at you, admire all that you were. And what you were to him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life making feel that good about herself, about her place in the world. However he had to do that, he would. It was only right because you had supported him through so much and had never asked for anything in return. You were the only person who had ever looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t some type of freak. And he’d done the same for you when you’d both attended UA. As far as he was concerned, the only forever he needed was right there, pressed up against his naked body. Shinsou’s grin was lopsided and he nodded. “The black one.”

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