#(and even this took a lot of convincing to get my insurance to actually fucking approve of it)

[qhazomb]

here's some Serious Bullshit:

there isn't a single dermatologist in the entire state that takes my insurance. and if we tried to just pay out of pocket for one, then i would completely lose my insurance, since, y'know, obviously i don't really need it if we could scrounge up enough money to pay for the one thing my insurance won't fucking pay for!!

[thatdayindecember]

Ok ok ok part 1 of idk how many (no clue when next parts will be posted bc life with a newborn is busy and exhausting)

If I had to explain everything that happened, all the lies, I'd have to write a book. Maybe I will one day lmao

Anyways

I told you that baby daddy came back. And that I was gonna tell him he needed to find his own place soon.

I didnt want him at my place. I didnt even want him to come back unless he got help. But he, as always, manipulated me into letting him come back; treatening he would + saying he did attempt sui (i had to take meds while pregnant bc it gave me baddd panic attacks + i was fully convinced he died for half a day bc he didnt respond anymore) and playing the victime and making me feel guilty for him being out on the streets there (even though he deffff only had himself to thank for that bc he spend all his money).

But yeah. He came back on Feb 1st. On Feb 5th, I was gonna be induced. Well, I'd get the balloon catheter. And then get actually induced the 6th.

The days before the induction, we talked. A lot. I told him he had to come clean about all the lies. And he did. Not about everything, since then i figured out more shit he didnt tell me about. But he came clean about the big lies. And they are fucked up tbh.

I'll tell you the lies that baffled me and hurt the most (even these ones were more detailed than I describe here):

He never told his sister, who was supposedly so excited to meet me and so happy about the baby, that I or the baby even existed. He took this lie faaaar tbh. Crazy details that weren't even necessary to even speak about and that came out of nowhere. Constantly saying he was gonna take me there to meet her, showing me prices for flights, telling me to get the documents I needed to take my meds w me on the plane, telling me she still had baby things from her kids for us that we could have. He even said, during one of his mental breakdowns: "my own sister doesn't even want to be close to my son". Well, dude, if she doesn't know about him, she can't want that huh.

That car crash he was in last year in which he almost died? Never happened. He fell of the stairs drunk. He took his one far too. Insurance money? Never. Going to buy a new car, after showing me different ones and asking my opinion on which one to get and going to LT to buy it and proceeding to tell me he bought it and his nephew liked it so much and now everything would be easier for me and the baby? Yeah nope. No car. (Also: he didn't buy anything for the baby bc he was supposedly saving for the car. He wasn't.)

Oh and to take it even further, that time before the "accident" when he went to his country to pick up his car? Yeah, never even went. He was close by all the time. While my grandpa died. While I found out I was pregnant. During all the first appointments and ultrasounds. He was like 40min away while i was struggling deeply. Yeah.

At first, I was relieved he finally told the truth. That's what I've been begging for for a year yk. But it hurt. A lot.

I couldn't process anything though, there was no time.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

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

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

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

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

[marvel-lous-things]

No listen. The very concept of sambucky is honestly so fucking wild.

I mean. Imagine you're driving captain fucking America and his tiny angry ginger friend somewhere when some metallic hobo goes absolutely Apeshit on your one (1) car.

then tries to kill all three of you. and he rips your fucking wheel out. and destroys your fucking windows. Maybe makes it explode too idk. Your insurance doesn't cover bastard terminators.

And then to make things better!!! you CAN'T EVEN KILL HIM. OR IDK PUT HIM IN BAD SOLDIER PRISON?? BECAUSE YOUR MESSY, MESSY BRO REALISES THE ASSASSIN IS HIS LONG LOST BOYFRIEND???? WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD??? HMM WHAT.

and THEN your dumb blonde himbo who you perhaps have a slight crush on just LETS his murder husband go because he's stupid and gay like that, and murderboy goes into hiding for like. 2 years. You develop a deep hatred for him and his stupid face.

You buy a new car.

You are now broke. But it's ok you have avenger privileges now.

You miss your car nonetheless.

Oh but then the fuckimg GOVERNMENT gets involved in your love life for some dumbshit reason and YOUR STUPID PET HIMBO TELLS YOU THAT THE ASSHAT WHO MADE YOU BUY A NEW FUCKIN CAR (IN THIS ECONOMY???) NEEDS SAVING AGAIN. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IN THE HELL. WHAT TH- anyway fuck him and his plums and his greasy unwashed-for-70smthn-years hair.

You don't know what Steve sees in him.

I mean, at least now you're free to hate him for reasons that aren't sheer homealousy (homosexual Jealousy). So there's that.

You won't move your seat up for him because you still have your dignity. You try not to stare at his face in the rearview mirror and you fail.

You hate his guts.

but wait it gets better!!!! You're all FUCKING WAR CRIMINALS NOW and you've gotta move to WAKANDA which is actually a Hella cool place BUT STILL. And oh no assassinface here actually looks really cute in wakandan clothing. It's not him though. it's the clothes. You are sure of that.

Your feelings are confusing. You tolerate him now but that's it. The fact that your heart does kickflips when he smiles means nothing.

You convince yourself that it beats faster when he's around because of sheer rage.

Then some big ass ugly purple grape pulls some weird shit but whatever it's nbd he's an inconvenience at best. The Real villain here is your STUPID GOLDEN RETRIEVER BROFLAKE WHO??? WENT BACK IN TIME FOR VINTAGE PUSSY??? WHAT IN THE GODDAMN-

Plus he left his raccoon soulmate absolutely Heartbroken but it's ok because you're hear to pick up the pieces. Wipe his tears. Give him a hug or two. Or eighty seven. (no homo)

(Unless?)

after that you both resolve to get over his raisin ass because you have each other. F is for friends who support each other and would take a bullet for each other and cook for each other and confide in each other in the middle of the night about the demons that plague them. You are both friends. You don't know how it happened but you like it.

But you also sort of don't like it. Your feelings are being confusing again. But that's a problem for another day, you're about to catch a movie and then get dinner with him. This is not a date.

You wear your best jeans anyway.

The two of you move in together (oh my god you're roommates). Missions suddenly become a lot more scarier because you don't want him getting hurt. He screamed at you for an hour once when you took down a shooter while you were unarmed.

U is for Unresolved Sexual Tension. Also Sharon is there.

One day. After staying up all night, just talking about stuff you don't even remember. And Yearning.

you wake up and realise you're just. Really fucking gay for him.

And he is too?? So that works. You get married eventually and adopt 8 kids and a dog. N is for Nuclear Family But Make It Giant.

And all this started because he rammed his fist through your windshield.

wild.

(he still hasn't paid for your fucking car)

[zoopzopp]

A post for some BAMF Izuku fics <3 (more of these will be added and the list will be updated as i read them)

Fics i've read:

The Secret Ingredient is Crime- Izuku only had a whole month to further prove himself worthy of Yuuei's golden acceptance, and he was going to do whatever it took to make it in. Yuuei would never truly know what hit them until it was too late. (The secret crime AU in it entirety is fucking amazing and what wouldn't i give to read more stuff with it)

Deku the Villain Hunter: Support Hero - We all know the story: After being told he couldn't be a Hero by All Might, Midoriya Izuku still wandered over to a supervillain attack where he could save Bakugou Katsuki. But what if he had made the other turn? The answer is a butterfly effect that would lead him on a path to paving his own future. A path of revenge, finding his own moral compass, and doing the impossible. (OKAY MANY THOUGHTS. Very cool story and aspects. I binged it overnight and lost a bit of sleep the next night as well.)

The Story of How Midoriya Izuku Asserted His Dominance (And Traumatized Japan) - The Sports Festival was supposed to be a break from stress. Shouta should have known there is no such thing as a break with his class.

making it right (for real this time) - - Izuku is a support course student at UA, and Katsuki's neighbor, best friend, and former bullying victim. After Izuku's performance at the sports festival, Katsuki realizes something. He has to make things right. -

Hero Fall (UA Civil War Exercise) - It's now the end of the first year of UA for our students. Nedzu had decided to bring back the annual Heroes vs Villain fight. The fight shall last 5 days and the villain leader is Izuku Midoriya, with the commanding officer of the hero team being Katsuki Bakugo. But, what happens when Izuku is left alone?

Hero Class Civil Warfare - Heroes lead by Bakugo. Villains lead by Midoriya. Seven days prep time. Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

"I Didn't Know You Had It In You." - Midoriya goes feral rage mode in his fight against Overhaul. The beat down still happens, but with Eri no longer at his back, he gets more violent. One For All reacts in an interesting way and Midoriya commits a terrible and unheroic act - the cold blooded murder and maiming of Chisaki Kai. Shigaraki is there to watch it all unfold.

Plan C meets Plan A - Even if All Might is right and Izuku can't be a hero, Izuku refuses to be useless. So Izuku uses his analysis skills to develop Plan C: Consulting in order to help the heroes. Eraserhead is impressed by this mysterious new consultant but alarm bells in Deku's behaviour quickly have Aizawa recruiting help for Plan A: Adoption.

Q. A. B. - One month after @hawks_unofficial's initial viral post, the blog titled "Quirk Analysis Blog for the Future", otherwise known as "Q. A. B.", has gone from an average of 10 views per post to an average of 20,000 views per post. Midoriya Izuku does not know how to view the impressions analysis for his suddenly popular blog, and only notices that sometimes, people actually comment on his posts now. He does not google himself or his moniker and thus does not see the rise in online articles and speculation. He is unaware that the "kyuu-ei-bee" he begins to hear about in passing refers to his own blog. He does not have a Twitter account. At the time, Midoriya Izuku is 15 years old.

How to murder your father - It's dangerous to be a bad father when you have a life insurance. Just saying.

Negation - Passive Quirks are a bitch. Izuku is reasonably done with the situation.

Thanks For Your Support - Izuku has the talent and the intellect to be the first Quirkless pro hero, and everyone at UA knows it. Unfortunately, his desire to become a hero has long since been buried thanks to the words of his childhood friend and childhood hero.

Policed To Meet You - Izuku takes All Might's advice and becomes a cop.

Vigilante Work And Other After School Activities - Izuku is a vigilante, Aizawa likes cats and therefore kids who help cats, and sometimes breaks must be forced upon overachieving teenagers.

When the Commission Lost Total Control - The hero polls have a small part where one can suggest their own hero. This is done just because of the amount of heroes is to great to name them all. This creates a little problem for the commission because a vigilante is assumed to be a brand new hero by the public- and ranks pretty high. Because of that, this vigilante now is too popular to hide and they can't come out with their mistake either! Think of the chaos that would bring.

Izuku being Badass but like in not that grand of a way but still tearing-people-down-in-some-way kind of way

He Was Quirkless - Midoriya get's sick of discrimination against the quirkless and decides to do something about it. It leads to some interesting situations. A trilogy.

bloody, but unbowed- It's Advocacy Week for Yuuei's hero students and it gives Midoriya Izuku a lot to think about about what kind of hero he wants Deku to be.

Called Out - When Izuku is hit by a quirk that will cause him to call out the first person to be rude to him on the way to school with every mistake they've made in the affected persons presence or have otherwise effected said affected person, Aizawa is in for a rough ride. In other words, with some help from a quirk, Izuku rakes Aizawa over the hot coals until he gives out. (a great fic but i've got mixed feelings on this one because on one hand, izuku is badass but on the other its Aizawa bashing and really like him skhdskdb so yea! Read it as per your tastes!!)

The time when everyone learned that izuku respects Bakugo more than all might. - I didn't like how Bakugo was tied up during the sports festival and so izuku didn't. Badass izuku roasted all might and midnight.

Villainous Sunshine - After an innocent question, Class 1-A learns just how terrifying Izuku's analysis is. Nedzu's along for the ride.

Never understand ( and you can't ) - Midoriya is sick and tried of his classmates bias and prejudice against the quirkless community and finally breaks

Mastermind: Strategist For Hire - Izuku Midoriya never got the chance to save Bakugo from the sludge villain and impress All Might. With his dream crushed, Izuku becomes bitter and angry. It also doesn't help that he faces discrimination at every turn. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated, so when the villains are the ones to recognize his talents rather than the heroes, well, Izuku just can't resist. He might as well help those who actually want him around. Mistakes were made, and now society must face a villain of their own making: Mastermind.

Malignance - Deku is far scarier than anyone gives him credit for.

Fics in my to read list which has/probably has BAMF izuku

Young Midoriya - Izuku Midoriya couldn't help himself when he saw someone in trouble. Even at 12 years old, his instincts drive him to help those in need. So when he sees Kacchan and his goons about to ambush another student, he has to step in, right? It's not like this hasn't happened before. What is different this time though, is that he's never had an audience that consisted of the Number One Hero.

Heroics and Other Things That Don't Require Superpowers - Izuku doesn't have a quirk. That's the long and short of it. After being told his whole life he can't be a hero, General Education at UA is the best he can hope for, right? Wrong. Dead Wrong. So super wrong that his best friend from Gen Ed, all of Class 1A and a whole mess of Pro Heroes are going to prove to him how wrong he is. Izuku has the makings of a hero, and his lack of a quirk only throws those qualities into starker relief. After all, who wants to be as strong as All Might when you can be the cleverest hero in the business?

Cases of More Than - Izuku is known as Deku online. He's an analyst of quirks, sometimes even working with the local detective, Tsukauchi, on a case. He meets new friends, builds a few relationships, and slowly crushes on his best friend. But then he's thrown into the General Studies Course at U.A. It doesn't help that All for One is showing an interest in him at all.

No Regret - In this world there is no hard set villain or hero. No victim and aggressor. Everyone is at fault for something and Izuku, with his own villain group, will make everyone pay. Even the bystanders who did nothing. This is what society gets for abandoning it's people. Deku will manipulate everyone and be the greatest villain, all so the world can be a better a place. With the stakes so high there is no time for regret.

We Are a Different Kind - Mirio doesn’t think he can be a hero anymore now that he’s quirkless, Izuku calls bullshit.

Live a Hero - "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Or, you're raised a villain, rebel when you're nine, and fight against the odds to become a hero anyway. That's how it is in Izuku's case.

Prodigal - After being convinced to give One for All to Mirio, Midoriya Izuku must rebuild his shattered dreams with bloody hands.

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Vigilante - Izuku is orphaned at the age of four and is sent into the Japanese Foster Care System. After multiple failed attempts at finding a forever home and some unfortunate circumstance, he ends up on the streets. Eventually, the vigilante, Deku appears. Eraserhead must gain his trust to bring Deku back to the right side of the law. If he he does, however, the untrustful but pure-hearted boy may just be a bit more than Aizawa Shota can handle.

From Muddy Waters - - but the sleeve of his tracksuit was bulging, tearing and ripping and a mass of twisted flesh, nearly as big as the boy himself and nauseatingly familiar (the arm of the man that had torn a hole in his side with a grin and left him a frail shadow of himself) swung forward and slammed into the flat face of the giant robot. Izuku wants to be a hero more than anything.

Pieces are easily sacrificed when they're nameless - Nobody ever thought quirkless, weak, weird Midoriya Izuku was dangerous. This perception carried over to his first year high school class, because really despite the super strength Midoriya didn't have it in him to be dangerous. That was their first mistake. And the one that would see them fall.

Not exactly BAMF izuku but i just wanted to rec these fics <3

In the shade of a sunflower - Being biologically quirkless came more with an extra pinkie joint in the toes and a stunning lack of vestiges mutations. It came with smaller things, like extra teeth that did virtually nothing, exploding organs, and weird exposed nerves that weren't designed to feel pain.

Throat Punch - In which Aizawa attempts to teach Izuku how to use various battle tactics and it goes just about as well as you'd expect. At least Shinsou is there with his fantastic commentary. (just a fun lil thing where izuku is really stronk and trains with shinsou and aizawa)

So Be It - He could still do good. Midoriya could show them all what a hero without powers looked like. If he had to break a few rules to do it, so be it. So be it… (as stated not exactly BAMF but its a vigilante izuku so ye-)

Never Enter a Drinking Game with Bakugo or Izuku - Izuku walks in on Kirishima and Kaminari having a drinking competition (no alcohol involved). And it reminds him of an old story.

5 Times Midoriya Taught Class 1A about Memes and 1 Time they Found a Villain that Understood Them - After being diagnosed as quirkless, Midoriya gets into pre-guirk media and finds memes. He shares them with Class 1A. Aizawa doesn't get paid enough for this. (THIS FIC???? FUCKING AWESOME. LITERALLY WHAT I WANTED TO SEE)

Midoriya: JD Version - Nedzu has decided that a play should be put on so that the students can learn how to "go undercover", an idea which Aizawa thinks is utter bullshit. They're putting on Heathers and when Nedzu chooses to cast Midoriya for JD, everyone objects. Midoriya is a much better actor than they thought.

that is a lot!! I hope you have fun reading it!!!

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the road trip

Part 15 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Warnings | 18+ only  - no smut but mentions of it

Chapter 15 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

Apologies for any mistakes, this has been written on my phone and its a bit difficult to edit. Once I’m back with a working laptop I’ll give it a once over :)

Bucky had intended on renting a bike so you could ride down to Louisiana but with Sam’s suit it would’ve been an impossible feat. 

He settled for hiring an SUV and added you both to the insurance so you could take it in turns driving on the long trip down south. 

“Been together one day and we’re already on our first trip” You teased as you rested your feet on the dash, taking in the scenery as Bucky drove. His metal hand gripped the steering wheel as he peaked a glance over to your bare legs, resisting the urge to pull over. 

“You’re the one having a mid life crisis doll not me” You feigned offense and swatted the soldier beside you, pleased to get a hit in as he tried to dodge your attack. His eyes remained on the road as he grasped your hand in his. “Less of that thank you” He laughed, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back before giving it back to rest on your thigh, his hand not leaving yours. 

“Looking forward to seeing Sam again?” He didn’t respond but his face said it all. “You’re so dramatic” You chuckled as you leant down to root around in your bag for the road trip snacks. Retrieving a bag of cashews, you offered it to Bucky who gladly took a handful. 

“I just know he’s going to ask a billion questions about stuff we’ve not even discussed yet, that we’re probably not even ready to talk about. He didn’t stop asking about you y’know? Y/n this, Y/n that…he kept threatening to ask you out.” 

“Oh he did” 

The car swerved slightly as Bucky's grip on the wheel tightened, his concentration lapsing for a split second. 

“He did what?” He asked, tearing his eyes from the road to glance over at you. 

“It was just a bit of harmless flirting-” You began before being cut off. 

“We flirted.” Bucky stated, his jaw clenching. 

“We also did a lot of things just friends don’t do. Relax Sarge, he only asked to get a reaction out of me.” 

Bucky grunted in response, knowing his reaction was a tad over the top but he couldn’t help it. You were his. 

“We could always mess with him in return.” You pondered as you took a swig of your drink. “Maybe hold off on telling him about us, it’s only meant to be a flying visit anyway isn’t it? So we wouldn’t have to pretend for long… play him at his own game?” 

Bucky smirked in response, completely on board with your little plan.

  The next few hours passed with the typical car games and a quick power nap as Bucky continued driving. 

“How long until you start at Starks?” 

“A month thank god, the GRC wanted me gone pretty quickly, I didn't have to work my notice which was a blessing really. I’ll schedule a day to go and clear out my desk and say my goodbyes. Will you still get your pension if we live out of the country?” 

“I’m not sure to be honest, I can pick up work wherever we are though, it wouldn’t be the first time. I’m good with my hands” 

“You’re telling me” You muttered under your breath. Bucky heard you loud and clear and let out a laugh as he recalled how you spent most of last night. “Are we crazy? Travelling with no plan, barely any money and only just starting out as a couple?” 

“Oh absolutely”

Eventually Bucky took a break from driving after you stopped for food in a roadside diner. It had been a while since you’d driven but you wanted to give Bucky the chance to get some sleep, something you knew he still struggled with. 

Despite telling him to try and get some sleep on the back seats, he remained upfront with you, doing his best to battle the drowsiness that had overcome him. He’d not gotten much rest the past few weeks, from battling the Flag Smashers in Europe, to hunting down Zemo and then back to New York. In truth he was worried he’d have a nightmare and wasn’t sure on how he’d react but upon your insistence, he tried to get some shut eye. After an hour or so he dropped off, the sound of you humming along to a song on the radio sending him off into a dreamless sleep. 

Bucky couldn’t quite believe it, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept without being haunted by memories of the Winter Soldier. Granted, he only got four hours of sleep , but it was the best he’d felt in a long time.

When it came to your turn to get some shut eye Bucky insisted on stopping over in a hotel for the night. You’d tried to convince him a motel would suffice after you lost the battle of you sleeping in the car but he was victorious. 

To be frank, after spending so many hours in the car, you were grateful to be sleeping in a bed with your super soldier by your side. 

As you slept, Bucky took the time to fire off a few emails advising he’d be ending his lease. Having slept earlier, he felt energised and was content in browsing the internet as you slept tucked into his arm. 

He did his best not to wake you as he opened a selfie from Shuri of her with Ayo and Nomble, a chuckle escaping his lips as Shuri and Nomble looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves on a boat trip in New York whilst Ayo sulked in the background. 

He also replied to an email from his therapist's office, letting them know he’d be absent from his next session but planned on returning the following week.

Bucky was tempted to let Sam know he was coming but thought it best to surprise him.

The next day was much of the same, both of you switching the drive and stopping off at diners for food. Due to the lack of respect Bucky had for the speed limit, you were making good time and would be in Delacroix the following morning. 

“-it was like I didn’t exist. Honestly it was the most humbling experience of my life” 

“Sergeant Barnes in his uniform… now that is something I’ve got to see.” 

“Maybe one day”  

Your eyebrow perked at the thought. “Good god man” You groaned dramatically and sank further into your seat, giggling as you caught sight of the blush covering his cheeks. “For what it’s worth, lack of nutrients from the rationing clearly messed with her eyesight.” You were genuinely baffled how Peggy didn’t swoon for the man next to you.

“Where were you in the 40’s when I needed you huh?” 

“I doubt I’d have been your type” 

“Intelligent, strong woman with a great sense of humor? And thats not even mentioning your ass.. Oh no, definitely not my type” He replied sarcastically. 

“Ha ha fine, I’ll take your word for it.” 

“I’d have taken you dancing, maybe gone to a show or even the carnival. Anything you wanted.” He took your hand in his again and kissed the back of it as he pondered just how he’d of won you over back then. He usually didn't like to dwell on life before the war, the pain of losing his family and the future he lost was too much but having you in his life somehow made the memories hurt less. Having you with him now along with the future he could picture with you helped him make peace with his past life and accept that it wasn’t something he could ever go back to. 

When Steve was returning the stones, he did wonder whether he should go back with him but the realisation that there wasn’t anything waiting for him apart from a time that he didn't belong to made his decision to remain in the present resolute. And by god was he thankful he stayed.

On your way to your final hotel before arriving at Sams, you’d taken over the driving and had kept Bucky entertained with your off key singing and terrible car games. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” As it turns out, Bucky was a sore loser. 

“What? It counts!!” 

“You cannot see bacteria Y/N” 

“Yes I can! It’s right...right… right there!” You pointed to a random bit of the car interior and held back a laugh at a clearly unamused Bucky.

“You’re so full of shit” 

“How do you know I can’t see it huh? Guess it’s my turn again, I spy with my little -” 

“No” He cut off as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Absolutely not. I’m going to choose a game.” 

You let out a little smile and continued focusing on the road until the super soldier landed on something he liked. 

“Okay okay, would you rather sounds fun. Doll, would you rather have the superpower of being invisible or ability to fly.” 

“Aw come on Buck these are tame! If I have to answer, without a doubt invisibility.” 

“Not dirty enough for you sweetheart?” A tingle rang down your spine at your new nickname. “I’d have to agree, invisibility easily.” 

“Buck you’re an actual superhero, you’ve already got powers, leave some for us mere mortals!” 

“... you think I’m a superhero?” 

“....you’re literally an Avenger.” You reached across towards the man beside you, keeping your eyes on the road as you pressed your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and swatted your hand away from his head. “Fine you made your point.” 

You shook your head as you returned your hand to the steering wheel, tapping away to the song on the radio. 

“The rest of these questions are boring” He muttered as he furiously scrolled through his cell. 

“C’mon, go R rated” 

“It’s no fun when I already know the answers to these!” 

“Pfft doubtful, come on, hit me” 

“Spit or swallow, you’re a swallower doll.See?” 

“Okay okay! You’re right, I give in. How about we just ask each other some questions?” 

“But you already know everything,” He remarked, throwing a few cashews into his mouth. 

“When did you first see me as someone other than a friend?” You’d thrown him off guard with that question, his hand stuck in mid air as he went to throw more snacks into his mouth. 

“Wouldn't you rather know my most embarrassing sexual encounters?” He offered but was met with silence. “Fine……. I’ve never seen you as just a friend. Yes we were friends before we became more and honestly Y/n if it never progressed further than just friendship I would’ve been fine with it, more than fine with it y’know? Meeting you was the best fucking thing-” “Buck, it’s okay” Your hand reached out towards him and squeezed his thigh as you kept your eyes on the road. 

“There’s more… before we officially met in the lobby when that creep wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, I’d seen you around. I was coming back from lunch with Yori and he was complaining about having gone for burgers instead of our usual and there you were, headphones in completely oblivious to the world and searching for your keys in your purse as usual. You were just so carefree - everything I wanted to be. And then a couple of days later we met and I was a goner.”

You bit your lip as you fought back a smile, overwhelmed by his honesty. It was a welcome feeling, knowing you weren’t the only one that felt an attraction almost immediately. 

“I’d seen you around too, before we officially met I mean. It’s kind of hard to miss you” You chuckled as you snuck a glimpse over at him and found him doing his usual glare. “It was pretty early on for me as well, do you remember when we went for coffee?” 

“And you ordered us two cups of sugar? Yeah I remember” 

“Mocha Latte’s aren’t bad for you… they just give you a bit of a buzz” 

“Especially if you order extra cream…” 

“Anyway! I’ve always been attracted to you, I’m not blind y’know but after seeing this dark looming strong man consume a drink like that, and have some residue cream left on his lower lip mind you, I just knew that it was more than just a crush. There’s something oddly charming and attractive about seeing someone so intimidating be so soft. It’s like I’m the only one who gets to see that side of you and I love it” 

Bucky didn't quite know what to say, he was slightly flustered at the compliments you were throwing at him and by the knowledge that you’d been interested far earlier than he had ever dreamed of. 

“We’re idiots aren’t we? For not realising sooner.” 

“Oh without a doubt”

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[kimnjss]

plot twist!namjoon | a-z

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: just smut talk.

⤑ rating: explicit. // unedited.

⤑ warnings: smut talk... (mentions of) shower sex, cum shots, brat taming, doggy style, reverse cowgirl... sex positions, hair pulling, masturbation, semi-public sex, roleplaying, oral sex (f/m. receiving), rough sex, use of toys, teasing...

⤑ A/N: literally not even a full day and i already miss them :( they were such a mess but sooo much fun ., ugh. 

A = Aftercare (what's he like after sex):

While he enjoyed cuddling with you before going to bed, after sex was a whole different story. The act would have both of you all sticky and hot and Joon wouldn't be a fan in laying in that, he'd be suggesting sharing a bath before snuggling under the covers... which would most likely result in another round.

B = Body Part (his favorite body part of his and also yours):

It was no secret that Joon had an interest fascination with your back, especially when he was fucking you. But, what he liked most were the dimples at the end of the back, he'd often times find himself pressing his thumbs into them as he held you steady.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically...):

The two of you were not really a big fan of condoms and while you were great about taking your birth control, the pull out method had worked itself into your routine. Joon was either spilling out on your back or thighs and on special occasions, you'd let him finish on your face.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his):

Despite the excessive amount of eye rolls he gives you, Joon is secretly very into the spoiled brat act you put on. There was just something about the annoyed pout and scrunch of your nose that he found cute, more so when he was denying you.

E = Experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?):

You both were pretty equally matched when it came to the bedroom, although, you were a lot more adventurous than him. Always coming up with new things for the two of you to try, but it never took much convincing to get him to experiment.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying...):

Doggy style. Reverse cowgirl. Anything back to chest. Even if you were starting off facing each other, you'd soon be shifting into the spooning position, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist.

G = Goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc.):

Joon was pretty serious, but not so much that it made sleeping with him boring. He'd just get real concentrated on making you feel good and his entire focus would be on getting you to cum. Like in any other aspect of your relationship, you balanced each other out. You were playful and goofy enough for the both of you.

H = Hair (how well-groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes? how does he like you?):

He didn't really care how you kept yourself, however you were deciding to look down there was however he preferred you to look. It didn't make that much of a difference to him in the slightest bit. The same went for himself, he'd trim up from time to time but it never really was at the forefront of his mind.

I = Intimacy (how is he in the moment, romantic aspect...):

Very, very, extremely romantic. Joon was very into the emotional part of sex even if he didn't really vocalize it. Loved holding onto your hand and looking into your eyes while he was inside of you. And if it's been a while since the two of you have been together, he'd be putting together a special night complete with candles, bubble baths and flowers to make up for it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Not really his thing. Even before the two of you were getting together, he wasn't really into masturbation. Found it boring, actually. He'd much rather be with someone and experience that connection, rather than just getting himself off.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks):

He's got an extremely subtle brat tamer kink. Unrealized, but definitely present whenever you were pulling your tantrums and he had something to say about it. Sometimes, without thinking he'd do things that he knew would get a reaction out of you, just so he could do something about it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Anywhere the two of you could be alone without interruptions. He had given you shit about it before, but Namjoon wasn't opposed to fooling around in his studio with the door locked or even in your office when you weren't busy. Surprise blowjobs were his absolute favorite, especially if they were taking place underneath his desk while he was working.

M = Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going):

You're always very direct and vocal about what you want. Whether it being what you wanted him to do with you or what you wanted to do with him, there would always be a stiffness in his pants following your words. Paired with the need to be alone with you. He liked knowing that you wanted him the most.

N = NO (something he wouldn't do, turn offs):

There aren't many things that are off limits for Namjoon, but something he couldn't really seem to wrap his mind around would be roleplaying. Not like the two of you have ever tried it, but he knew that if you had it would end up being more awkward than anything. He'd have trouble staying in character and most likely would ditch the entire story-line and fuck you without the mention of it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Receiving. While he was not selfish when it came to oral, he liked it a lot when you were below him. You knew what you were doing and you did it so well, never failed to have his toes curling. He'd always return the favor, but was always perking up when you were offering to go down on him.

P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.):

Rough and sensual. It was no secret that he enjoyed all the romantic parts of having sex with you, but he was often mixing that with a bit of roughness. Hair pulling, tossing you around, hard thrusts, and sometimes biting were to be expected when he was losing himself in the moment.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often... etc.):

Nope. Not a fan. They just annoyed him. Didn't see the point of speeding through things when you could very much take your time with each other. If you were suggesting a quickie, he'd be eliminating whatever reason it was you couldn't go and have proper sex. Then going to do that.

R = Risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks):

Joon never really came up with new things for the two of you to try in bed, that was more something that you were into. He'd always be down to give anything that you were bringing to him a chance, at least once. While extremely different, the two of you happened to be into the same type of things... so there wasn't much to worry about there.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last...):

He's pretty good at keeping it together, insuring that he lasts a bit longer than you so you're getting everything out of it. Pretty spent after two rounds, but after one quick nap or something to eat, he'd be ready to go again.

T = Toy (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?):

No toys. Not that he was against them, he's just never really thought about adding them in to your sex lives. Just like everything else, though, if you were curious about it, or wanted him to use something on you, he wouldn't hesitate.

U = Unfair (how much does he like to tease?):

He likes to tease just enough so he's bringing out your bratty attitude. Simple things like denying you kisses or acting as if he wasn't interested, so he can see that pout take over your features. Sometimes, he'd keep you from cumming... but that never lasted long because he liked watching you cum a lot more than not.

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make?):

Not that loud or vocal. He'd talk dirty to you from time to time or ask if something felt good, but other than that low grunts were the extent of his vocalization. He's usually a bit too focused to keep up with dirty talk, but you didn't mind either way.

W = Wild Card

He found it attractive when you were working hard. Especially if you were doing something that he knew you enjoyed, he liked the look of accomplishment on your face whenever you've completed something. And was never hesitating to reward you for your hard work.

X = X-Ray (let's see what's going on in those pants, pictures or words):

The guy wasn't tall just for show, that's a fact. Joon was an all around big guy and that translated down south as well. Not only that, he was thick too. And he knew it, took pride in the little gasp you'd let out whenever he was bottoming out for the first time that night.

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?):

He was very good at matching your energy, so he wanted you just as much and as often as you wanted him. But, if you were dressed a certain way or paying a bit more attention to him, it would make him want you in some type of way. He'd be thinking of ways to shift things to the bedroom.

Z = Zzz... (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?):

Joon was hardly falling asleep right after sex, he'd want to get up and shower with you before getting comfortable underneath the covers again. There have been times he's fallen right asleep, but each times he's woken up in the middle of the night to clean off before going to bed.

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[jawabear]

I have no idea if requests are open, so feel free to ignore!

Javier x reader, enemies to lovers with an injured and quietly scared reader?

Not impossible (Javier Peña x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hey! I’m sorry this took so long anon! I’ve had a lot of stuff to do outside of writing with sucks but I’m slowly working my way through my other requests so hopefully it won’t be too long before they’re up as well! Thank you for being patient with me. Also, I’m not very good at writing the whole enemies to lovers trope so this is about as good at that gets... but I hope it’s good enough for you. Enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Fem!reader, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, Javi is a struggling man, hospitals, Steve being a smart ass, my terrible writing

Summary: In his job, Javier gets proven wrong about a lot of things he though impossible, and he’s about to get proven wrong again

“You’re a real fucking piece of work, you know that?”

“Oh, and you’re not?” She retorted as she pushed him out the way. “Why do you have to be such a dick all the time, Peña?” She muttered under her breath as she began pressing the buttons on the copier.

“I could as you the same thing” he said, folding his arms over his chest as he watch her take her sweet time, intending to piss him off. And it was working. “Could you be any slower? Other people have work to do as well you know?”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sure the girls will be happy to wait for you a little while longer” she taunted giving him a sweet smile. This only angered him further, more many reasons. But the main one being he hated that that was how she thought of him. But he had only himself to blame for his reputation.

The copier beeped a few times and she pulled out the few sheets of paper there was. “There, happy now?” She said before walking past him, purposely bumping her shoulder against his.

“Very” he muttered as he went about doing his own work, but his eyes wandered over to her, watching as she walked away. Watching the way her hips swayed slightly with every step. How her hair bounce to. And how she always walked with such purpose.

He knew he was in deep for her, but it was clear she didn’t feel the same.

He didn’t exactly know why they had the relationship they did, but ever since she started working for the DEA, they had just clashed. They had never seen eyes to eye and disagreed on just about everything. The only thing the did agree on being that they didn’t get on. And every agent new it. They didn’t exactly try to hide their distaste for each other. They made it very obvious.

This lead to obvious speculation about the true nature of their relationship. It came down to the classic “they’re only mean because they like you” sort of idea. Every other agent was convinced that they were actually together. And with relationships between agents being pretty much forbidden, they all seemed to come to the same conclusion that they were in face horrible to each other as an excuse to spend more time with each other and not let on that they were in face dating.

But this wasn’t the case. Unfortunately. They’re weren’t dating. Much to Javier’s dismay.

“You still with us?” Came a voice from beside him pulling him from his thoughts.

Javi looked and saw Steve standing beside him “yeah..” Javi said, clearing his throat and collecting his copies.

“What took you so far away?” Steve teased as he followed after his partner back to their desks. Javi just huffed in response, he never gave Steve a straight answer to questions lien that. He knew that what ever he answered he would just pester him about the same thing over and over again “it was (Y/N) again, wasn’t it”

For fuck sake.

“No Steve” Javi lied “it was about going home to get away from this shit”

“Well, to add more shit to the pile, Messina wants to see you”

“When?”

“Now”

“What the fuck for?” Javi sighed rubbing his forehead.

“Didn’t say. But it doesn’t look like you’re going to be alone for whatever it is” Steve nodded his head over to Messina’s office. Javier turned around and saw (Y/N) walking in. Javi only sighed again and pushed himself away from his desk and took his time walking up to Messina’s office.

-

“Me and...(Y/N)? Ma’am, all due respect-“

“Messina” she corrected for what seemed like the hundredth time “or boss. And are you questioning my decision?”

“W-Yeah actually I am. I don’t think sending me and (Y/N) out into live fire is a good idea”

“You two are DEA agents. Not children. You are both going on this mission whether you like it or not, and I expect the two of you to behave appropriately and professionally” Messina looked between the two of the, (Y/N) being all too quiet beside Javi. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, boss” (Y/N) nodded, those were the first words she had spoke in a while. She shot her eye over to Javi who had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, fine...” he mumbled.

“Good, I expect you on site with in the hour. And be careful both of you. Look out for each other” Messina told them as she handed (Y/N) a file with the location and target.

(Y/N) nodded her head, taking the file and leaving, Javi following close behind trying to get a look at the file. She held the file up to him and he took it from her. “You only had to ask” she muttered. They both found themselves standing in her office, she walked around to her desk and pulled her gun out of her drawer while Javi stood in the doorway looking through the file.

“You can’t kill” he told her quietly, his eyes not leaving the page with the target on. This was a murder mission. And he knew she couldn’t kill anyone, even if it was for the sake of the job.

“But you can...” she said.

“You make it sound as if I enjoy it” he scoffed “as if it’s easy...”

“I know it’s not easy Javier. If it was, everyone would do it. But it takes a whole lot of bravery and courage to pull the trigger and end someone’s life, regardless of who they are. You are braver and more courageous than I could ever be”

He let out a light laugh and lifted his head to look at her “(Y/N), that almost sounded like a compliment”

A hint of a smile ghosted over her perfect lips as she averted her gaze from his back down to her gun “yeah well...don’t let it get to your head. I need it clear if we’re both going to make it out alive”

“Eso es frío” (that’s cold) he chuckled with the shake of his head.

“You know I can speak Spanish right?” She told him.

“Since when?” He asked a little shocked, but now questioning himself as to whether he’s ever let slip his feelings for her in his native tongue or not. She hadn’t ever said anything.

“Since always. So, whilst you can probably talk about Steve behind his back, you’re going to have to try harder do to it with me” she said before walking past him.

“Eres algo más” (you are something else) Javier muttered.

“Lo sé, pero tú también” (I know, But so are you) she called back to him.

Well, if he wasn’t already head over heels for her, her definitely was now.

-

She examined the room, her gun held steadily in front of her as she looked, but it was empty. There was no one there. She lowered her gun and reached for her radio, holding down the button “there’s no one here Javi” she said.

“There has to be” Javi’s voice came through, it wasn’t the clearest audio but she knew what he was saying. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs in the-“ she didn’t get a chance to finish before she heard a creek in the floor boards beside her. She looked and saw their target emerging from a cut in the walls, gun raised and pointing straight towards her.

(Y/N) reached for her gun but it was all too late for that. She somehow managed to manoeuvre herself so that the bullet didn’t go through her head, but she wasn’t quick enough to dodge it completely.

Her leg seemed to just...stop. She fell to the floor crying out in pain as like a wounded animal. The bullet was hot as it imbedded itself into her thigh. The gun had dropped from her hands and fallen to the floor. Her hands were of better use holding her thigh she thought.

The guy was shot dead and Javi quickly appeared in the room, but she could barely make him out through her tears. In all her time as a field agent, she never thought she’d ever get shot. She was too focused, but it seemed this time, her feelings for Javier got in the way.

“Fucking hell (Y/N)!” Javier yelled as he raced to her side, his gun too being forgotten on the floor next to hers.

“Javi...I-It hurts” she sobbed.

“I know baby” he whispered. She didn’t really take much notice of the name, nor did he. There were more pressing matters at hand that his slip of the tongue. He reached around her to the back pocket of her vest, knowing she would have a bandage of some kind in there. He smiled a little to himself as he pulled it out. “Hold still for me (Y/N)” he said gently as he moved her hands from her leg.

“D-Don’t touch it” she sniffed.

“I’m not gonna touch it. But I need to wrap it so you don’t bleed out” Javi carefully began wrapping the bandage around her wound tightly. She let out quiet whimpers of pain for which he apologised.

“Can you stand?” He asked when he had finished wrapping her wound.

“I-I think so..” he took her hands and helped her get to her feet but her leg gave out again sending her into his chest. His arms instantly wrapped around her to make sure she didn’t fall back to the floor.

“I’m sorry..” she whispered as she tried to stand again.

“It’s fine” he whispered before lifting her into his arms bridal style. She didn’t really have the strength to protest, and she didn’t want to either. It felt nice to be held in his strong arms.

Javi took it upon himself to bring her to his car and drive her as quickly as he could to the hospital. She struggled to keep her eyes open but he kept talking to her and holding her hand as often as possible to keep her mind active to insure she didn’t pass out on him. “Stay awake for me (Y/N). You’re going to be okay”

-

Javier sat outside her hospital room, his head in his hands and his leg bouncing nervously. He hadn’t moved from that chair since he first sat down in it about three hours ago. He was too scared to leave. Scared the nurse would come out and he wouldn’t be there. Or (as unlikely as this was) (Y/N) would ask for him and he wouldn’t be able to see her.

He was far too stressed out to do anything. And he was too scared to move.

“Javi!” Steve called to him as he jogged down the hallway towards him. Javi looked up at his partner but didn’t have the energy to actually respond with words. “How is she?” Steve asked when he stopped in front of his friend.

“Alive...at least” Javier muttered “they’re uh..running some tests. Want to make sure she doesn’t have an infection or anything. My attempt at patching her up was shit and wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding...”

“Fuck man” Steve said as he sat beside Javi “I’m sorry this shit happened. Did you get the bastard who did it?”

Javi just nodded and lowered his head rubbing his hands together. “Hey, just think, it could’ve been a whole lot worse” Steve tried to offer him some comfort but he didn’t really know what to say.

“It could’ve been a whole lot better” Javi retorted.

Steve didn’t get a chance to say anything else before the door to (Y/N)’s hospital room was opened and a nurse emerged. Javi and Steve immediately stood catching her attention.

She gave a gentle smile to them “Ella está bien para tener visitas. Pero ella puede desvanecerse dentro y fuera de la consciouncia” (she’s okay to have visitors. But she may fade in and out of consciousness) she told them quietly. Steve didn’t get a lot of what she was saying, something about ‘she’s okay’ and ‘conscious’.

“Gracias” Javi nodded to her. She smiled again before leaving them.

“I didn’t get a lot of that” Steve admitted.

“She’s okay. But she’ll probably fall in and out of sleep if we go in there” Javi translated for him. “Do you want to go in first?” He asked pointing his thumb at the door.

“No, you go in first. She’ll be happier to see you than she will me” Steve said patting Javi on the shoulder.

“She hates me...” Javi mumbled.

“Yeah, sure she does” Steve nodded a long, a knowing look on his face “I’ll go tell the boss. Take your time in there” Javi couldn’t reply before Steve was walking away leaving him alone.

He looked towards the door and hesitantly reached out for the handle before pushing it down and opening the door.

She was awake when he walked in. Staring out of the window on the opposite side of the room. Her fingers scraping anxiously against the blanket that was draped over her. He drew in a sharp breath before walking into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t say anything to her at first he knew she was aware of his presence.

Javi sat in the chair beside her bed. She was facing away from him and he didn’t know what to say to her. Anything he did say probably wouldn’t mean much to her. Anything he wanted to say wouldn’t mean anything either.

So for a while they sat in silence. The only other sounds were the quiet shuffling and muffled noises from outside the room and the annoying but somewhat comforting beeping of the heart monitor she was attached to.

Javier’s eyes trailed up and down her body. Her leg was slight elevated and wrapped up in a few layers of bandage. A wire attached to her arm. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of what he was seeing. But he was glad she was alive. But he knew she wasn’t okay.

“What’s wrong with me Javier?” She asked quietly. Her voice and question startling him slightly.

“You were shot (Y/N). They’re just running some tests to see if you have an infection-“ He answered but she cut him off before he could completely finish.

“That’s not what I mean” she said turning her head, their eyes meeting and he hated the sadness and pain he saw within them. “What’s wrong with me?” She asked again.

Javi didn’t answer for a moment. He was trying to pull his thoughts together, he wanted to give her the honest answer but he didn’t think now was the time for him to confess his love for her.

“You’re human (Y/N)” he told her quietly. Javi hesitantly reached out and took her small cold hand in his larger, warmer ones “No one can expect you to force yourself to do things as drastic as taking a life”

“That’s my job Javi” she laughed weakly “What kind of DEA agent am I if I can’t even do my job?”

“You’re one of the best agents we have. These things happen (Y/N), don’t beat yourself up over it” he told her.

“They don’t happen to you...” she said. “These things don’t happen to you Javi”

“No” he agreed “far worse things happen to me. I have a far worse pain to deal with”

“What’s that?”

“I have to watch the ones I care about get hurt or killed. And all I can do is stand idly by and watch...wishing it was me instead...”

Her bottom lip began to tremble as she watch a look of sadness wash over his face. She tried to squeeze his hand in reassurance but she was too tired and too weak. But he must’ve felt something because he looked to their joined hands a smiled a little. “Javi...” she sighed quietly. “I don’t want it to be you...” she told him.

He removed one hand from hers and brought it up to rest on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. She leaned into his touch and managed to squeeze his hand gently. Maybe it was just the drowsiness getting to her which was making her more affectionate towards him. But he wanted to believe it was because she liked him back, but he knew it was impossible.

The hand on her cheek brought her unbelievable warmth and comfort and it was making her sleepy. She struggled to keep her eyes open, her head falling deeper and deeper into the pillow.

“Maybe you should get some sleep” he said quietly.

“Will you stay?” Her voice was small and quiet but she couldn’t open her eyes when she asked her questions, slowly she found herself falling asleep, still holding his hands.

“If you want me to” he smiled.

She hummed “want you..to...” her voice seemed to trail off as her head rolled to the side a little more than it already was.

Javier waited a moment before he voice her name, testing to see if she was in face asleep. When she didn’t respond he came to the conclusion she was in fact asleep. He let her be, knowing she needed rest after the traumatic events of the day. But he wasn’t going to leave her.

Whilst in there, the nurses flittered in and out making sure she and he were okay. And even as the sun began to set, she show no intention of waking up. But the constant beep of the heart monitor was comfort enough for him to know she was still alive.

He rested his elbow on the bed and raised her weak hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles before resting his forehead against it. “You know, I have half a mind to tell Crosby and Messina to ban your from field duty after this. To save me from having to go through this again” his voice was quiet as he spoke, he was scared of waking her but also he didn’t want her to hear what he had to say. “Fuck (Y/N). You got lucky. That could’ve been a whole lot worse. You could’ve-“

He stopped himself quickly, feeling a lump beginning to form in his throat and his eyes burning with tears “but you’re okay. That’s what I have to remember. And...and when you wake up...I’ll tell you. Tell you how I feel. Tell you I love you. And that I’m sorry I’m such an asshole to you. It’s a shitty excuse but...I’ve never felt like this about someone before and...it’s fucking scary. I guess I...I just don’t know how to...deal with it...”

She drew in a deep breath and shifted slightly making him look over to her face to see if she had woken up, but it seemed she was still completely out of it. Javi pressed another kiss to her hand, longer this time before bringing it back down to the bed. “I’ll let you rest (Y/N)” he whispered before leaning back in his chair. His eyes and hand never leaving her before he found himself drifting off to sleep as well.

When he woke up again, it was due to the light filtering through the window on the far side of the room, and also the sound of the nurse flittering about the room and checking on (Y/N) who was still asleep. Javier groaned as he attempted to stretch his arms above his head but he was hindered slightly when he noticed that their hands were still joined at her side.

“Buenos dias, Agente Peña” the nurse smiled gently over to him. Javi was a little concerned at the fact he had fallen asleep, he didn’t know what time it was. Was he late for work? And why did he suddenly care if he was?

“¿que hora es?” (What time is it?) he asked.

The nurse looked at the watch on her wrist “9:32” she told him.

He was late. Very late.

“Fuck” he swore under his breath.

“You might like to know that a man who you were with before came by to tell you not to come in to work today” she said, her English wasn’t the best but he understood what she was saying.

(Y/N) groaned from the bed catching both of their attention. Javier leaned forwards slightly and tightened his grip on her hand. “(Y/N)?” He said quietly.

“Javi...” she managed a soft smile as she slowly opened her eyes to look at him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her.

“Happy..” she said.

“You’re the only person in the world then that has felt happy after being shot” he laughed quietly.

“No...happy because you’re here” she told him.

Her words caught him a little off guard and he looked up to the nurse but she had at some point slipped out of the room. “I think you’re still a little hazy from whatever it was they put in you”

“No Javi. I know what I’m saying. I owe you my life. You saved me”

“I’d hardly call it that...” he muttered as he looked away. She squeezed his hand tightly, proof that she was coming back to herself. “I was doing what you would do”

“I’m not just talking about yesterday” she said “I’m talking about every day before that...I know that...we have a strange relationship...but...just having you in my life...it gives me a reason to go on”

“What are you talking about (Y/N)?”

“I’m...I like you Javi. A lot. And I didn’t ever saying anything because...well you never exactly made it easy” she laughed “but I...you probably don’t do relationships but...” she didn’t finish her words. She turned her head to look away from him and pulled her hand from his. She felt like an idiot in confessing to him. She knew it was impossible that he would like her back. He hated her.

But he didn’t.

“(Y/N)” he whispered as he reached over to press his hand against her cheek to turn her head to face him again.

“I’m sorry” she apologised.

“For what?”

“I feel like I’ve now...made things even worse between us...”

“Hey, I may be an asshole but I am capable of feelings. And I like you too”

“Y-You do?” She spoke in barely a whisper, she was a little too shocked by his words. He nodded to her. Her face broke out into a bright smile and reached over to take his face in her hands pulling him closer and pressing her lips to his. She wasn’t quite in control of her actions but that didn’t stop her from continuing. And he didn’t hesitate in kissing her back.

“And it’s about time too” came a voice from the doorway making them both jump away from each other. They looked over to the door to see Steve standing there looking all to proud of himself. “About time you two got together. It’s a real pain in my ass trying to be the middle ground between you. And it will also settle the chatter around the office”

“Do you know how to knock?” Javi asked.

“Yeah” Steve nodded.

“Then go out and try it” Javier pointed to the door and Steve laughed and left the room, closing the door behind him, but there was no knock that followed.

“It seems like we’ve apparently made a lot of people happy” he chuckled. She nodded and gave him a gentle smile.

“Are you happy?” She asked him quietly.

“Beyond happy”

18/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade @harrys-stan (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next

Chapter 14: Consider it Done 😇

Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1505

Warnings: Swearing and Jungkook is the official president of the “I hate Y/N” Club 

Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

Author’s note: There’s a slight error in the dates for this chapter. All of the dates should read for the month of February and not January. I think my social media app had a meltdown and I realised too late 😅. 

If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊

Tagged list: @inspinkyring​ @betysotelo18​ @kardia-apo-marmelada​ @casspirit0705​ @preciouschimine​ @therealsugababe​  @lucedelsole97​ @deolly​ @lexy9716​​  @thesweetest-peas​ 

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

Y/N climbed the stairs to the balcony and scanned the area for her intended target. She smirked to herself when she found the ash-blonde bombshell sitting by herself and made her way over to her.

She plopped herself beside the girl and let out an overexaggerated sigh of relief. She leaned her arm on the back of the couch and rested her face in her palm. Y/N positioned herself so that her body was turned towards the girl and waited for her to look up from her phone to notice her presence.

The girl grunted in annoyance at the disturbance and looked up from her phone, ready to tell off the stranger who had interrupted her peace.  The girl swallowed the dry lump that had formed in her throat once she realised who was sitting next to her.

She was in deep shit and she knew it.

It was common knowledge that Y/N never socialised outside of her friendship group and when she did it was never for a good reason.

“Hey! How’s your night going?” YN’s voice and smile was so sugary sweet which was a totally contradicted the dark and piercing look in her eyes. “You must be having a great time, I’ve been seeing you up top a lot lately.”

“U-u-h yeah.” She stammered as she racked her braining trying to recall what she had done wrong to get on Y/N’s bad side like this.

“I bet you thought you’d be able to come in here, bat those cute little doe eyes a few more times and soon enough you’d be securing a permanent spot on the balcony, right?” The girl sat up straighter and shook her head trying to deny the accusations.

“No tha-”

Y/N cut her off before she could explain

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for using your looks… I of all people know how far a pretty face gets you in a place like this” Y/N’s hand reached out to play with the ends of her short hair that perfectly framed her face. “But don’t think for a second your beauty act is convincing anyone that you’re anything more than a filthy thief.

“Is this because I like Tae?” the panic evident on the girls face “I promise I will leave him alone.”

YN realised why the blonde had chosen to sit where she did. From her spot she had a perfect line of sight of Taehyung where he sat with her friends and the rest of her brother’s crew.  

“Nah, that’s not it. Although it did piss me off to hear that you were harassing Sunnie again the other day for his number” Y/N shrugged it off nonchalantly even if she was filled with excitement, she was literally working a job that took care of a criminal and a thirsty-ass social climber.  “No that’s definitely not the reason why I’m coming after you…it sure does sweeten the deal though”

The girl started to sob, the jig was up. If Y/N exposed her for what she was she would be ruined.

If Y/N was aware about her sticky fingers she definitely knew about her other criminal activities. The girl knew that Y/N had her ways for digging up dirt on people and she was not afraid to expose them if it meant protecting her friends.  

She once heard a rumour that an older guy was bullying Jimin. When Y/N demanded he stay away from her friend he laughed in her face and said she wouldn’t dare touch him as he was the son of the local police chief. When the guy refused to listen to her warning, she got the guy expelled then exposed his father for his corrupt ways and got him fired.

“People are going to assume I’m exiling you because your one of Tae’s groupies and by all means feel free to continue that narrative...You’ll get to protect your innocent persona and people will continue to see how far I will go for my best friends.”

“You’re a crazy bitch! You know that right?!” she cried out

“Yes, I do and the more people who know that the better.” Y/N needed people to believe this take down was motivated by her dislike for groupies and not for the actual reason. She was very diligent in keeping the Magic Shop’s identity concealed and didn’t want her role as the Shop Keeper to be apparent.

“You can’t banish me!”

“Ahh you see, that’s where you’re wrong...I keep management very happy by keeping the Basement a trash free zone and they thank me by letting me do whatever the fuck I want.”

Y/N snapped her fingers in the air and pointed down to the girl next to her and immediately a security guard rushed over to throw the girl out.

“Thank you, Bounce.” Y/N offered her favourite bouncer a playful smile as she waved condescendingly to the disgraced girl.

From his spot next to Jin, Jungkook’s mouth fell open in shocked as he witnessed Y/N having an innocent girl thrown out. He thought whole scene was a disgusting display of an abuse of power.

“What the hell was that?!” Jungkook leaned over to whisper in Jin’s ear. He was very aware of the crowd he was sitting with and didn’t want to her brother or friends to overhear him.

“What was what?” Jin tore himself from the conversation he was having with Yoongi to answer him. Both of them turned their attention to him and waited for him to explain what he was going on about. When Jungkook didn’t answer immediately, Yoongi got the hint that the conversation was intended to be shared between the two cousins and turned to initiate conversation with Namjoon. Jungkook paused a moment longer, insuring the conversation was completely private before nodding his head in Y/N’s direction.

“Y/N just pointed at a girl and a bouncer came out of now where and threw her out!”

“Oh, that?” He replied nonchalantly, he hardly believed the question was so important that he needed to stop his conversation he was having with Yoongi. “You just saw your first Y/N take down.”

Jungkook’s face twisted in disgust at his cousin’s total lack of concern.

“How are you ok with that?!”

Jin shrugged in response.

“It’s not like she does it all the time or without reason. The people she kicks out are normally girls harassing Tae or Sunnie. She’s very protective and that’s what actually makes her a really good friend.”

Jungkook hated how quick Jin was to always defend this girl. From the moment she got him kicked out of the Basement to the time she kicked his ass at Reload, he saw no redeeming qualities in her. He thought the way she carried herself was rude and arrogant and the more he thought about how people let her get away with being a spoilt brat the more he grew irritated.

“Uh…what about the time she got me kicked out? What did I do to her then?!”

“I hate to break it to you kid but from what you told me…you bumped into her and Bounce kicked you out…she never asked him to do that”

“Everyone kisses the ground she walks on. She’s such a spoilt princess!”  Jin’s face hardened at the hostility in Jungkook’s voice. He noticed the ever-increasing negativity towards Y/N and it was begging to wear his patience thin.

Jin was aware that Jungkook was very popular at his old school and he believed that through his former popularity he had grown accustomed to the arrogance that came with being a part of the highest social standing.

Things worked differently here and although the scene was growing quite fond of him, there was a lot Jungkook needed to learn.

It was easy to misunderstand Y/N. It was even easier to believe this imagine that Basement portrayed of her. From the years that he had been Namjoon’s best friend he had come to see past the preconceptions that followed Y/N along.

Y/N didn’t need to be protected by anyone, much less Jin but he helped Jungkook get into the Basement and he, himself would gladly get his cousin kicked out if that’s what is needed for him to be humbled.

“Cut it out, Jungkook.” Jin’s voice was stern. It was very rare for Jungkook to see Jin call him by his name. The way he spoke to him was much like a parent scolding a child throwing a tantrum.

“But Hyung -” He went to continued however the sentence was lost when the group erupted in cheers as Y/N made her way to the group.

“Hey fam!” she greeted everyone then plopped herself into Taehyung lap. Jungkook watched as she threw her arm around his neck and beckoned her friends closer to her. She whispered to the group and when they pulled back their faces were plastered with smiles. 

Jungkook shook his head in disapproval. 

Everyone else may be able to be fooled by her pretty face but he would not.

[ciggylungz]

Rivals

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?   2.2k

 -

It’s no secret that growing up with a workaholic parent is hard for a kid, but for Y/n it was amplified due to the fact both her parents owned one of the most famous fashion companies in the world. This meant during most of her childhood she relied on nannies, private drivers, maids and child minders to care for her in absence of her busy working parents.

Of course having absent parents gave her some perks during her teen years, the ability to throw ragers in the absurdly large mansion they’d bought for the three of them –(well, they were hardly in it so mainly just their daughter)- not having to worry about getting caught when she decided to bring people over to get a quick shag in and the plus of having no one to bother her during her angsty middle school years. Those things were nice, yet you really can’t replace the role of your parents with teenage hookups and parties.

If there’s one thing that she absolutely hated about her parents work, it would be their former business partners cunt of a son. Harry Styles. Y/n had been forced to be in the twats life since they were 10 and his father joined stocks in her parents company before investing fully and becoming business partners. For Y/n that meant being forced to be around their son whenever their parents were too busy crushing numbers or out on boozy business trips clogging their noses with high end coke and buying out their competitors.

Harry was always a good-looking boy, and that only made things worse because he was a total prick. He was arrogant, annoying and always got away with being the biggest pain in the ass y/n has ever experienced in her life. He was insanely competitive, cocky and always found a way to weasel into Y/n’s business just to push her buttons. One’s he knew how to push perfectly to make her want to pound his head off a blacktop.

It was almost as if when it came to Y/n he never matured past being a 12-year-old boy, and now he’s a 23 year old powerful business man who still can’t manage to leave her alone.

Y/n had inherited her parents’ company when they decided to retire, two years before the retirement her parents and Harrys father had severed their ties and he’d gone back to his independent company. And just y/n’s luck, the man passed his roll as CEO down to his son, making the two young adults’ owners of two of the most famous fashion and beauty companies to ever exist.

Make no mistake, Y/n was a strong, independent and ruthless business woman so Harry’s subsequent inheritance didn’t threaten her in a business sense it more so made her worried for her blood pressure since the man couldn’t help but come bother her every chance he got. It didn’t help his dad had a single remaining stock left in the shoe portion of their clothing company giving Harry the perfect excuse to come barging into Y/n’s office to get on her nerves. To Y/n Harrys like a cold sore that won’t go away, just keeps coming back every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it.

___

Today was a busy day for Y/n, she had a meeting with her team that worked closely with her managing profit, stock, inventory, sales and all that stuff. Her team was large, with a company with over two thousand distributors worldwide and thirty-five exclusive stores scattered around the globe that’s to be expected. All in all, Y/n was responsible for making sure all one hundred and fifty thousand employees were running a smooth ship and every participating party was doing what they needed to do. It was a stressful job no doubt, but she never backed down from the challenge.

The meetings were always her least favorite part of her job. All the paper work that had to be read, numbers calculated, sales charted and any complaints or incident reports all had to be verbalized and talked about in detail with documentation of all the important things said as well as much more. Today the meeting took a grueling four and a half hours and the day was far from over.

Once she got out of her meeting it was nearing noon, she had to push her lunch off to phone the companies attorneys because one worker was trying to do a fake insurance claim. The man faked a work accident failing to remember every warehouse and factory was littered with security cameras that caught him in the act, so she had to inform them of the situation so they could sort it out. After that she got sucked into looking at new designs her design team had come up with for the next season, explaining that Chanel and Gucci both wanted to work with them to carry a few exclusive items only for that season.

Finally, at half passed two she made it back to her office, sitting down in her desk chair while taking her hair out of the headache inducing ponytail it had been in since she got there at five that morning. She opened her laptop, planning to send off some emails while she put in her order for lunch to her assistant, getting as much done as she could in the little bit of private time she was able to snag.

A knock sounded at the door, she knew it was Morgan coming in with the food she ordered so she didn’t bother to look up from what she was doing very drawn in to the email she was currently formatting. Only her attention was quickly severed when his voice rang out instead of the one she expected.

“I believe you ordered the chop salad, diet coke and fruit for lunch misses Yln.”

That annoying, cocky voice. You can hear his shit eating grin and teasing eyes simply in his tone, you don’t even have to look up at the jerk.

A prolonged sigh blew out of her lips, a grunt of annoyance following as she looked up at him. He looked nice, as always, she added bitterly in her own mind. She hated the fact someone so goddamn irritating was so undeniably attractive. He wore a dark blue suit, white button up with a black tie and yellow accent pocket square. Yet his fashion and handsomeness seemed a bit overshadowed by his personality that had the same affect on the woman as nails on a chalkboard.

“Harry, to what do I owe the displeasure?” Y/n reached her arm across the desk to snatch the paper bag from his ring clad hands, a sarcastic disapproving finger was pointed at her yet she didn’t take his bait opting to give him the death stare instead.

“Sassy today are we?” The man rested himself on the small leather loveseat that was in her office, propping his head on a throw pillow and putting his feet on the armrest. “You act like you’re not happy to see me, I know yeh missed me.” Y/n rolled her eyes, digging her fork into the salad aggressively. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been happy to see you, and I’m certain no one has ever missed your presence either.”

Harry chuckled slightly, loving how easily he could annoy the girl. Over the past thirteen years he’s learned just how to get under her skin, and he enjoyed doing so.

“Bit feisty today aren’t yeh Y/n? playing hard to get I see.” The man folded his hands on top of his chest, completely relaxing into the comfortable furniture, making himself comfortable for the undetermined amount of time he’d be spending there irritating his childhood ‘friend’.

The difference between Harry and Y/n’s perspectives on their rather odd ‘relationship’, if you could really call it that is Harry never hated Y/n. In fact he was always quite fond of her, he enjoys her company even when he’s forcing it on her and using the shared time to annoy the ever loving shit out of her. He and the woman have always been competitive growing up. In sports, card games, classes, and now business and Y/n took things a lot more seriously then he did. she was always wound a bit tight, she gets it from her mother.

Harry and Y/n had an interesting past. They have a love-hate relationship, seeing as even through the perpetual animosity they’ve carried since they were kids they did have their good moments too. And though Y/n would never admit it, there’s a part of her that does actually care about him even if she loathes that part of her deeply. In their teens they were at each other throats a lot, but in between that they would occasionally have their good days where they would refrain from getting into screaming matches and instead would be able to tolerate being together. Y/n chooses to describe it as tolerating him since she’d never admit she sometimes enjoys his company.

Through their formative years whenever Y/n was throwing a party, she wouldn’t protest when her friends would invite Harry as well. Pretending like she didn’t know he was coming and didn’t want him there when she saw him in the crowd, yet he always had a feeling she was anticipating and secretly wanted him to make an appearance. When he’d plan some sort of adventure with their friends he’d do the same, always slightly relieved when she’d show up but he’d put on the irritating act as soon as he got the chance which ruined her mood, every time. and well, it would be a lie to say the two never found themselves hate fucking each other after one of their parties, drunk and pissed at each other only to pretend like it had never happened.

To Harry, the animosity mixed with a hidden sense of fondness and maybe even a hint of attraction.

The woman ignored his comment, chewing her food before taking a swig of the soda looking back at him with a rather unamused expression. “What do you want Harry? And who the hell even let you in here?” she continued eating and wrapping up her email while he formed his reply. “Told Morgan I’d bring it up to yeh, she’s got a bit of a crush on me so she handed it over without much convincing.” Yet another eyeroll from Y/n was delivered. “She’s like 19, don’t manipulate her into worming into my office just because she can’t see that you’re a much bigger prick then the one in your pants will ever be.”

“First of all, 19 is legal so if she wants to eye fuck me I’ll allow it. Second, don’t be rude. This is a professional setting, do you think it’s appropriate to talk about my genitals in the work place? Might have to report you.”

Y/n couldn’t help the small snort she let out at his antics. As much as he annoyed her, sometimes she did find him a bit humorous. “and for the record, I’m very happy with my package and I don’t appreciate that comment.” He pointed a finger at her, a fake angry look on his face. “Just as much as I don’t appreciate you intruding on what was supposed to be my down time to eat, we’re even shrimp dick.”

Harry gasped at the insult, squinting at her slightly. While Harry was skilled in pressing her buttons, she could do it the same. Making comments on his dick size, sex skills, business deals or things of that nature always got him riled up. That 12-year-old boy mentality rearing it’s ugly head any time she makes a comment about his dick being small. Childish he was, absolutely childish.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ll whip it out right here to prove my point.” His eyebrow raised and she could see him chewing on his cheek in annoyance. She truly found it funny how peeved she could make a grown man by making fun of his penis. He was ridiculous.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, I didn’t bring my mental scrub brush to work with me today.” When she had finished speaking the woman tossed her now empty salad box into the trash, taking another sip of her drink and finally sending off the painfully long email.

Harry decided it was time for him to head back to his own office, which was right across the street much to Y/n’s displeasure but of course he couldn’t leave without a final childish jab at the woman.

“Just remember, I’ve had you bouncing on my dick more than once. Don’t hold yourself so high and mighty dear, because we both know I’ll have you like that again.”

And with that a Harry with a cheeky smirk on his face left the office, leaving a slightly stunned Y/n in his wake.

 (eek pt.1 lets see how this one goes.)

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Untitled

Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

[barid-bel-medar]

More of a real life ramble than anything else but...

This year has been weird. At the start of the year it did not look like it would be a good one. I’m not going to touch on shit like the Capital Riots, but more in light of the fact I had a goddamn seizure through my medication. That was theorized to be a result of me just being so stressed out over things like the pandemic, and the fact that at that point I’d been out of work since June 2020. Pandemic paranoia to some extent started to drop once both me and my grandma got vaccinated (I qualified pretty early due to the epilepsy; I actually got a weird look when I arrived for my appointment due to how young I am and then mentioned the epilepsy and got an understanding nod). The only good thing was with the Pandemic Unemployment Act for once I qualified for unemployment insurance (since my previous jobs had been contractor positions I didn’t which is BS), since it had been changed so that contractors/temps could qualify. None of my job applications seemed to be working, I was barely getting interviews, and it was just frustrating.

Then one day in March I get an email from an employment agency I’d sent my resume to in the past but never heard from. It was an email to ask me about if I would be interested in a two month temp contract to work at a small bank helping process PPP loans. I said yes, curious and frankly bored if nothing else. To be honest I wasn’t even entirely sure it was legitimate, since that does happen at times. That discussion went well, and I was then set up to do an actual interview with the bank the next morning.

I was given a verbal offer by the bank within five minutes of my interview. Two thirds of my interview was the HR person going over what my specific duties would be. I had the official offer letter in my email the following morning, did all sorts of paperwork, and by Friday of that week I was working at the bank (remotely). Did my one day training, and then started to process loans. 

So initially I was on one team, that dealt directly with applicants, and being supervised by someone from the credit division. It seems however, that I was not supposed to be on that team. To some extent it had been a matter of me getting some degree of experience (I assume), but I’d actually been supposed to be on the team run by the head of risk management that dealt with brokers rather than direct clients. My previous supervisor tried to convince HR not to move me in terms of teams (she was very satisfied with my work), even offering up another team member. HR said ‘no’ and the following week (my third week at the bank), I was now on the brokerage team.

Now for that first week my boss actually wasn’t there (he’d been on vacation), and I was under the supervision of the CFO. Lovely man, did enjoy working with him and I get along well with him. Made a few errors, but I picked up quickly what I was doing wrong and fixed it. Actually lead to the semi-irritating aspect of realizing some of the temps/interns who’d been there months still hadn’t picked up some of that shit...But next week my actual boss came back.

First thing Monday morning was a meeting with him. He’d gotten progress reports on me from both the prior supervisors and HR and had been pleased. I’d demonstrated that I could pick things up quickly and fix errors. I was also willing to reach out if I felt I was missing something or needed help. So I chat with him and make the off handed reference to how I was looking for full time, permanent employment. Didn’t really think much of saying it, more was as a forewarning that if I found something I’d take it and likely be leaving very quickly. He got a very interested look at his face, but at that moment didn’t say anything else. It made me wonder, and there had been a part of me already wondering that if I did good enough job with the loans if they’d keep me on long term. I figured though if that did happen, I wouldn’t be asked anything until basically the end of my two month contract. 

So here’s what I didn’t realize. My boss had recently convince the bank president to let him hire on an assistant/team member. Previously the bank president didn’t really believe him on just how overworked he was, but PPP (where everyone at the bank basically had to do it on top of their regular duties) made the president realize just how bad it was. So boss now has approval, but hadn’t yet been allowed to post the job.

And that’s apparently where I came in.

Again, I’d been getting praise, demonstrated interest in what my boss’s regular job was, and also had a skill set that could easily be transitioned to doing risk management (my background is in libraries/archives/information governance). I also proved over the course of that week I could easily handle the PPP workload and that again, I picked up new skills easily. I got along well with my boss, and did things also like give him heads up when I thought something was going weird.

So Friday of that week comes, and my boss, maybe a half an hour before my work day was over asks me the question I was not expecting. “What would your expected salary be for a full time position?” Again, I’m figuring even if heard something, I’d be hearing it closer to the end of my contract. Not barely a month into it. I spent the weekend figuring out the salary range I should ask for, asking my sister’s partner what he thought I should ask (he works risk management at a much larger bank but still had an idea on what I should ask for). Monday comes, I give the range, and from there my boss spends like the next two weeks practically chasing down the president to set things up.

Did have to do an ‘interview’ for the job with the CFO and my boss, but honestly the interview with my boss was mostly us chatting about random shit, and the meeting with CFO was more just verifying certain things (also he was nice and took the generous look at my previous work history as ‘they may just like doing short term jobs’ [I in fact very much do not]). A few days later I got my verbal job offer, and a few days after that my official letter. Part of why it took a bit was due to the temp contract and there were some things there apparently. But I now had a full time, perm job that gave me a salary I was very happy with and basically all the benefits I wanted (the only one I didn’t get is tuition reimbursement and I know HR is trying to convince the President and bank owner they should do it too; also I admittedly already have a Masters degree, but depending on how much I like this job [which I am] I may try to do either a Masters of Legal Studies or an MBA).

Part of also why was apparently due to PPP. They didn’t exactly want to transition me over to the permanent job until it was closer to over, which they expected to happen by late month. Then, as some of my may know, PPP ran out of funds faster than expected. My boss and I had chatted about it, but both of us were still expecting at least a week longer than what ended up happening. Which then lead to a different issue at that point; HR wasn’t quite ready for me to do all my paperwork stuff, but since they’d done my offer and the like what ended up happening was I was kept on the temp contract, but started my new duties. Also there was apparently a certain ‘we get hit by a fee’ thing there, if they took a temp ‘too soon’.

In a very technically sense there was still PPP stuff going on. They were starting to set up things like the forgiveness program, and dealing with applicants complaining over rejections or that they had applied and gotten nothing since the funds had run out (and there wasn’t much we could do there). However my boss didn’t want me doing that. He wanted me to focus on figuring out how to do my new job, which meant reading up on a bunch of stuff. Which was nice since I didn’t have to deal with applicant complaints, of which there were a lot.

So I started to transition over to doing risk stuff, learning, training and like experimenting with writing policies and procedural stuff (though looking back at that I still don’t really get why he was having me do that but whatever). He started me doing the real reason he’d hired me in June, doing IT due diligence reviews. The reviews on average take me at least a day and a half (there’s generally a lot of information and I have to read all of it and write up a report). First time I did one he assured me ‘don’t worry if you mess up, this is your first time’. Did it, spent a day or so paranoid, and then we had a meeting to discuss it. Apparently I did it perfectly which delighted him since it meant I could start doing it seriously.

And it’s just been nice. I’m working something I find interesting. I have a boss who  has the view of ‘work to live, not live to work’ which he views as an incredibly unhealthy mindset. Meaning if something comes up like say, visiting my parents and I’ve been able to do half days so I can get to their house, including this past Friday (thought that was also partially a result of how messed up public transit due to Ida but that’s a different matter); he actually said I could head out Thursday but since public transit was such a mess it wasn’t viable (my train line was down). Back during PPP the one broker kept annoying him by emailing/calling him at fuck o’clock and not respecting that it was after work hours. My boss also trusts me to attend things like meetings that are with senior management, and I suspect he’s starting to groom me to take over his position (especially based on a comment from last week).

It’s just very weird to realize this year started so shitty, showed no signs it would really get better and yet now all this. And it’s just really nice.

[jemmahazelnut]

Motorcycle flight - Chapter three

Summary: Laxus is a biker, and as soon as he discovers that in the city there’s a motorcycle track for enthusiasts where races are organized every month, he decides to go. As soon as he arrives, he will fall in love with that wonderful place, and will meet the handsome green-haired owner. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Here you can find Chapter One, Chapter Two.

The ride

Laxus was in a good mood. Finally, the insurance had paid him, he only had to wait a few weeks and then the motorbike would be in his hands again. He couldn't wait for it, even if to tell the truth, Freed let him ride his bike on the track. He had won the race, much to Lucy's happiness, and although Freed had been annoying because he had repeated several times that the credit was all of his bike, Laxus found himself laughing and having fun.

He no longer mentioned the excuse Freed had come to his workshop, but realized that the boy was very open to him. They were very close, lately they always drunk together and even if they didn't see each other elsewhere, Laxus was almost convinced that Freed might like him. Almost, because Freed was nice to everyone. Almost, because Freed still hadn't opened up to him about his private life. He avoided talking about his family, even though he occasionally hinted at him about the problems he had running the track.

But that was fine with Laxus, he just hoped he wasn't deluding himself. Honestly, he was waiting for Freed to take the next step. He thought he was pretty clear with his intentions, had answered his jokes and always chatted with him willingly.

That evening he had just come by to say hello and as usual he was lost chatting with Freed more than expected. The two boys had been sitting at the table for more than two hours, and they were lost in talking about everything and more. Until they heard loud thunder rumbling around the place. The two boys looked up from the table and Laxus looked out the window.

“Fuck” he cursed. Normally he liked thunderstorms, especially the summer ones. At the moment, however, he only thought that he would’ve to return by bus in the rain to his house, crossing the whole city. He didn't use Freed's bike off the track, he already felt quite a scrounger like that. And even if he had used it, he would still have drenched everything.

“Great,” Bickslow commented.

“I'm running home,” Lucy said instead, placing the money on the counter and then going out next to Natsu, greeting everyone quickly. They weren't the only ones, all the people who had come up there had done so on motorcycles and no one was going to get wet. Freed, on the other hand, seemed quite calm.

“Well, I guess I'm going too,” Laxus said, getting up “Magnolia's public services are bad enough, I wouldn't be surprised if the bus didn't even go by” he commented.

“If you want, I'll give you a lift, I came by car,” he said. Laxus thought about it for a moment, in reality he already owed Freed enough for his kindness, but the idea of waiting in the cold and without an umbrella didn’t excite him too much. Had it been a short walk he’d have taken it himself, but so...

“Well, thanks then.”

“Will you accompany me too? I'm a long way away,” Evergreen said.

“Yes, if you wait half an hour the bar closes, so bring me too,” Bickslow intervened. Freed sighed slightly.

“As you like,” he replied and sat back at the table. Laxus sat down as well. “Maybe next time check the forecast before coming here on the bike,” he muttered but he wasn't really upset. In any case, no one would’ve come to the bar by that time, so Evergreen and Bickslow closed five minutes early and then all four ran to Freed's car. Even if they only remained under the water for not even a minute, when they entered, they were all deep. Bickslow was standing next to Freed, while Evergreen and Laxus were behind.

“What a lousy time,” the girl complained. “Will you accompany me first?”.

“If the others are okay,” Freed replied. Laxus and Bickslow had nothing to argue and Freed turned on the headlights and drove off in the car. It was the first time Laxus had gotten into Freed's car, and he was a little surprised to see it wasn't such a nice car. He had expected him to drive one of the latest outings. Apparently, his passion for cars was not as much as that of motorcycles.

The weather, however, was getting worse and worse, and suddenly Freed was forced to slow down to practically a crawl. He reached Evergreen's house and the girl greeted them, running out to enter the house as soon as possible.

“Maybe it's best to wait before continuing,” Bickslow commented, glancing out. He wasn't all wrong, they could barely see where they were going. Freed, however, decided to continue slowly, as Bickslow didn’t live far away and shortly afterwards he too went out.

“Do you want to sit in front? At this rate, I think we'll arrive at your house tomorrow morning,” Freed commented as soon as they were alone.

“Nah, I don't want to go out even for two seconds,” Laxus replied. “And then I feel like I'm in a taxi,” he smiled.

“In fact, I feel like a taxi driver, except I don't get paid”.

“Not that you need it.”

Freed laughed.

“Where exactly do you live?” he asked.

“Near Acalypha square, if you reach it then I'll give you the directions” Laxus replied.

“Oh,” Freed said.

“Yes, I know, it's a bit far,” Laxus commented. “If you want, I can call a taxi,” he then added. Even though it was Freed who had offered to accompany him after all.

“No, I think it would be the same problem. Do you want to wait for the storm to calm down a bit and then I'll take you home? My house is just behind that street,” he explained. Laxus shrugged. He was fine with it. So Freed drove off and continued for a couple of meters, then turned right and parked under cover. The two boys got out of the car and Laxus looked around curiously. They were in the parking lot of a building, probably Freed lived in an apartment there.

He turned to the boy who, however, had his gaze fixed on a car and had a dark look. Laxus frowned slightly.

“Everything good?” he asked.

“Yes. My cousin is here” he just said and then turned to the stairs of the building, snorting. “She's a little... strange girl, don't pay too much attention to her,” he said.

“What do you mean weird?” he asked a little curious to know the girl. He didn't even know Freed had a cousin. To tell the truth, he didn't know anything about his family. He only knew that he had no siblings and that he had quarreled with his parents.

“It's just too hard to explain,” Freed replied as he climbed the stairs. The two boys arrived at the atrium of the building, from there they took the elevator and reached the third floor. Once there Laxus saw two girls outside a door and immediately spotted Freed's cousin. She was probably the green-haired girl drinking fruit juice.

“Finally, you arrived, we were waiting for you” she said in a bored tone.

“Hello to you too” was the response of Freed, who then greeted the blonde kindlier, who smiled and greeted him. Freed took out the keys.

“Nice to meet you, I'm Dimaria” said the blonde, holding out her hand. Laxus shook it, introducing himself, then turned his gaze on the green-haired girl.

“Brandish,” she said without reaching out, then she turned and walked through the door Freed had just opened. “I'll take your bath, I need to warm up,” the girl said.

“Make yourself at home,” Freed commented wryly.

“Obviously. Do you have something good to eat?” she asked bored.

“No”.

“Honey, would you go get something from the fridge? I'm sure Freed has a supply of gummy candies hiding from me,” she said. Freed put his hands to his temples.

“Only you can eat gummy candies at your age,” he commented vaguely irritated. Dimaria giggled.

“You can take them yourself,” she replied.

“That hassle,” Brandish said as she tossed her jacket on the sofa, which Freed got annoyed and moved it from there, hanging it up in part right away.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“We were in the storm, and your house was close,” she replied as she walked to the kitchen. Laxus looked at the two boys with a bit of curiosity. Brandish apparently acted as if it were her home, and Freed made no secret of his irritation. The girl found no candy, but she took a packet of peanuts and then walked to the bathroom.

“Can you avoid acting like you're at your home?” Freed snapped.

“You said I can do it,” Brandish retorted.

“I was obviously... you know what, do whatever the fuck you want, but you won't sleep here tonight,” he clarified right away.

“We won't bother you and your boyfriend,” Brandish said quietly. Freed was already about to say something but Dimaria put an arm around the girl's shoulders.

“Sorry Freed, I told Brandish to warn you but she didn't want to, considering it a nuisance.”

“I imagine it,” Freed muttered softly.

“Anyway, we're actually here because she has something to tell you,” she revealed. Freed frowned slightly and turned to his cousin.

“Now I don't feel like it,” she said, shoving a handful of peanuts into her mouth. Freed was already about to blur something, and Laxus was a bit on the sidelines without knowing how to behave. Maybe it was better to call a taxi, he really didn't want to make his friend uncomfortable if he had to talk to his cousin.

“Look Brandish, talk and hurry, I'm getting annoyed and I won't hesitate to kick you out of the house just to be nice to your girlfriend,” he said. Brandish snorted.

“What a hassle,” she commented. “Can I use the tub later?” she asked.

“I just hope whatever you have to tell me is worth it,” he muttered. Brandish nodded and sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and gesturing for Freed to go get her jacket. The boy turned to Laxus.

“Sorry, I didn't think she was here. You can sit down in the meantime, can I bring you something to drink?” he asked.

“No, I'm fine.”

“You're nice to your boyfriend and you're not to your cousin,” Brandish commented.

“I'll never be nice to you, and Laxus isn't my boyfriend anyway,” he replied irritably. The blond sat on the other sofa while Freed went to get his cousin's jacket and passed it to the girl. She took it and then reached into her pocket for something, took a paper and pulled it out and passed it to Freed.

“You're welcome,” she just told him. Freed frowned slightly but instead of opening it he went into the kitchen. Soon he returned with three beers and a fruit juice. He passed the last one to Brandish, while he gave Dimaria a beer and Laxus one. The two thanked him, while the green-haired girl just said 'Finally'without receiving any response.

Laxus looked at the two girls and then his gaze fell back on Freed, who had opened the paper and was reading it, darkening his face more and more. He didn't take long to read it and as soon as he finished, he closed it clearly irritated.

“You can use the tub,” he told them.

“I knew it,” Brandish smiled satisfied as she stood up and headed for the bathroom. Laxus was relieved that the two girls had disappeared from the living room. He had nothing against them, but it was all a bit embarrassing. He was silent for a moment in the living room with Freed, until he decided to break that atmosphere.

“You were right that your cousin is weird,” he commented with a smile. Freed smiled back, but it was clearly forced.

“Yes, she lived in wealth and is a bit spoiled and lazy,” he explained. Laxus nodded.

“Does she come to you often?” he asked him, although he was more curious than the piece of paper he had received.

“Occasionally, not very often though. We don't get along so well, but she has a sort of 'friendship bar rivalry' with Lucy. When I lived with her, I saw Brandish more often,” he said. Laxus nodded and glanced at the paper in Freed's hands. “What is it that she gave you? If I may know,” he asked, just not being able to restrain himself. Freed sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair.

“You can read it,” he said, handing him the paper. “It's an article my father will probably publish shortly. Guess I'll have to call him,” he explained. Laxus took it and opened it. As soon as he started reading, he understood why Freed's mood had deteriorated dramatically.

It was an article against the motorcycle track, explaining how dangerous it was and how bad it was for the boys. How the underage boys found themselves fascinated by that place and frequented it, occasionally driving vehicles they couldn’t get on. And then he was talking about a group of bikers selling weed to kids. Laxus frowned slightly. He had never seen young boys at Raijinshuu, he was sure. He finished reading the article and looked up at his friend.

“Are they lies?” he asked him.

“Not really. Let's say he made connections that have no reason to exist. I know which group of bikers he’s referring to, I kicked them out of the Raijinshuu a few months ago. They have nothing to do with us, but you know… since they go on bikes they are associated with my track,” he said irritably. “Apparently my father has changed his strategy, he wants to ruin my reputation and lead me to bankruptcy like this,” he commented sourly. Laxus didn't know what to say. He honestly didn't even know how he could help him, always if there was a way.

“I guess talking to your father isn't going to solve the situation,” he said.

“Imagine well” replied Freed in a resigned and tired sigh “I'll call him, but I already know what he’ll ask me in exchange for not publishing the article”. Laxus raised an eyebrow and Freed snorted. “He's going to ask me to come back to him, go to some stupid rich party and act like a good son should and… I don't even know why I'm telling you. I don't want to stress you out with my problems,” he sighed.

“You don't stress me out,” Laxus said immediately, perhaps faster than he should have. “Maybe it would do you good to let off steam to someone,” he added. Freed seemed to think about it for a moment, then looked down at the coffee table putting down the beer from which he had only taken a small sip. For a moment he said nothing and Laxus didn't push him, peering at him and thinking what he could do to help him. Unfortunately, however, he had no ideas.

“My parents and I have been fighting for years,” he began. “Ever since I started dating guys. I thought they would get used to it over time, but they never did. Or rather, my mother more or less did, let's say that she tries to be the link between me and my father but… in the end she always ends up taking his side and it's tiring” he sighed.

“I'm sorry,” Laxus said quietly. Freed shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. By now I’ve put my soul in peace. The problem is, they didn't. My mother calls me every now and then just to hear me, to find out how I am, but she always has to do it secretly from my father. And then... well, there’s the whole story of the track. When I opened it, I did it both to piss them off and to show that I could become someone even without their help” he explained. Laxus nodded without interrupting him, although he already knew that piece of history because Lucy had already told him.

“At the beginning it was more difficult to manage the track, I didn't have many customers, I had to make myself known and invest a lot. I had some savings, and thanks to my surname I was able to get a loan from the bank” he admitted a little annoyed. “So, let's say I was lucky, and I know it. My father reproached me, he called me every day, telling me that he’d make me fail, that I couldn’t tarnish his name in this way and at that point… I put out an article about him”.

Laxus said nothing as Freed smiled bitterly.

“It was a low blow on my part, and maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I haven't thought about it much. I went to the reporter and told my story with my parents. Not all, only some parts. How they behaved with their gay son” he spat almost disgustedly “After that article my father had a couple of problems, but to tell the truth it's not that his companies have gone bankrupt. They had a bit of a breakdown but after a few months everyone forgot about it and everything was back to normal. My father, however, tied it to his finger, and from that moment on he did everything to make me shut up” he said, running his hands through his hair.

“I honestly think this war between us will never end. I also thought about withdrawing my accusations, but I don't think it would make more sense since no one remembers them anymore, and then... it's a matter of principle” he blurted out a little irritably. He stopped and said nothing more, leaning on the sofa and just staring at Laxus for a moment. The blond realized that he should have said something.

“Can't you threaten him in some way so that he understands that he doesn't have to go against you?” he asked. Freed smiled and shook his head in resignation.

“I've thought about it, but you’ve no idea how rich my father is. He has the best lawyers, the best reputation, I literally can't do anything against him.” Laxus didn’t reply, although the story made him nervous. It was obvious, even if Freed didn't want to admit it, that he still felt bad about the way his parents treated him.

“I'm sorry,” he said at that point. Freed shrugged.

“Well, I stressed you a lot and the storm stopped hitting. I can walk you home before it starts raining again” he said, turning his gaze to the windows. Laxus took a look outside. Indeed, even though it was still raining, the roads were probably more practicable.

“I can call a taxi,” he said.

“It’s not necessary. I offered you a ride,” Freed insisted.

“There's your cousin,” Laxus pointed out. Freed shrugged.

“Knowing her she'll be in the tub for hours, by the time I get home she'll probably still be there,” he said casually. Laxus at that point agreed and got up from the sofa, albeit thanking him. The two boys left the apartment and reached the garage and the car again.

The drive home was long and quiet, but as soon as Freed parked in front of Laxus' house, the blond decided to take a confidence that he had never taken before. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. At the gesture Freed turned surprised to him with slightly wide eyes. Laxus tried to ignore the blush that was spreading across the boy's face.

“I'm sorry for what you have to go through, and I can't help you. But you’re clearly an intelligent and capable man, I'm sure you won't let the track close. And if you need some entertainment in the meantime, I'll be happy to help you,” he told him. The blush on Freed's face intensified even more, and Laxus was almost tempted to lean over and kiss him. Almost, because it probably wasn't a great idea to do it right after what the boy told him. He smiled at him and let go of his shoulder, opening the door.

“Thanks,” Freed said before he left. Laxus turned to him once more.

“Don't worry,” he replied and then greeted him, running to his own building before getting all wet, unaware of the chaos he had caused in Freed's body with those simple sentences.

***

Freed had been thinking about Laxus' words and his strong grip on the shoulder for days. Every time he did it, he felt a certain agitation in his stomach and a warmth in his face, and each time he struggled to lock those thoughts away before they took a turn for the worse.

He looked down at the newspaper and those thoughts were immediately swept away, while he read the article on the front page. In the end, despite the fact that he called his father, the article came out anyway. If he had expected it, they had just fought on the phone yelling at each other as usual. Freed at one point found himself with the call closed in his face and pissed off he threw the phone at the wall and smashed it. The fact had irritated him even more, and only the thought of Laxus had managed to make him sleep.

But now not even the thought of the blond could calm him down. Nor are the calls with the lawyer or the journalist who published the article. Nothing could calm him down. In the middle of the afternoon, when he was tired from all those bureaucratic chores, he left the office slamming the door behind him. He didn't care about the customers who were queuing at the counter, and he badly told Bickslow to get him a beer.

“Arrive immediately” replied the boy a little worried about his friend.

“Do it to me later. Is the track clear?” Freed asked.

“Uhm... no, there are Mira and Lucy who...”.

“Fuck” Freed growled and left the club without listening to the sequel, nervous as ever. He hadn’t noticed Laxus' presence, nor the fact that the blond had observed him a little worried. Freed made for the bike. He didn't care who was running around the track, he needed to let off steam and that was the best method he knew.

“Would you like to take a tour around Oak Town?”. Freed whirled to Laxus, who had a slight smile on his face.

“Look, I'm not in the mood,” Freed said annoyed, immediately regretting the tone he had used. Laxus certainly didn’t deserve that treatment, as indeed Bickslow didn’t.

“Precisely for this reason I propose it to you. You need to let off steam, right?” Laxus asked. Freed looked at him for a moment in silence, while Laxus took the phone from his pocket and turned it towards him, showing him a photo of some waterfalls in the middle of nature. “There’s a nice path and if you like I can take you here” he said. Freed smiled slightly and hesitated for a moment.

“I don't know if I'll be the best of the company,” he admitted.

“That's why I'm here. Come on, move your ass,” Laxus said taking his helmet. Freed at that point found himself forced to accept. Perhaps it was the best idea. He walked to his bike and climbed on it, while Laxus joined him. “And don't be a dick. Just follow me”. Freed smiled and nodded as he adjusted his helmet and exited the Raijinshuu parking lot.

***

The motorcycle ride had given him more vent than he had thought. Driving along the mountain roads was much more beautiful than running on the track, on that he had to agree with Laxus. It was liberating, and the landscapes were really beautiful. Plus, even though they were standing still at the time because Laxus apparently didn't remember where he was going, it was fun to see the blonde pissed off with Google Maps. Freed leaned on the handlebars of the bike smiling amused.

“Have you lived here for years and got lost?” he teased him lightly.

“I was a kid and I haven't been here for years” Laxus justified himself “And up here the signal doesn't even pick up” he growled a bit irritably, picking up the phone, hoping that something would change. Freed chuckled.

“We can reach Oak Town,” he proposed.

“No,” Laxus growled. Freed didn’t reply and for the moment decided to enjoy the view. Since they were stationary in an open space that was to serve as a parking lot in the middle of the mountain, he could observe the valleys below him and the mountains on the other side. He had never been there but he had to admit it was a nice place.

“Fuck you, phone shit,” Laxus snapped and Freed turned to him, noticing how he had given up.

“So?” Freed asked.

“Those waterfalls are buggered in a nowhere to be found place,” Laxus muttered irritably. Freed smiled.

“Is there any other place around here to see?” he asked. Laxus gave him a grim look.

“Here there are so many places to see, there’s only the embarrassment of choice” he replied as if it were obvious.

“Well, then let's go to one of those, if we don't get lost again,” he offered with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Laxus grunted. Freed laughed and followed the blond's example when he put his helmet back on. Shortly after he left and Freed followed him back the way they had come. The journey didn’t last long, in a few minutes they arrived near a lake. The two motorcyclists stopped, parked and then set off towards the lake shore. As Freed walked his eyes widened ecstatic by the sight. He had to admit, Laxus had taken him to a nice place.

The lake was bordered by trees on one side, while on the other there was a shore with boats and a small farmhouse. The mountains that rose behind the farmhouse were reflected in the clear waters of the lake. He saw some ducks swimming in a point not far from there and for a moment Freed stood looking at the landscape, breathing in the fresh mountain air.

“Nice, huh?” Laxus asked with a smile. Freed folded his lips up and nodded.

“Did you come here often?” he asked him.

“Yes,” Laxus said as he walked to the shore side. “In fact, I know everyone, I just hope my grandfather isn't here,” he commented. Freed followed him and the two boys walked quietly and calmly until they reached the small pier to which small rowing boats and pedal boats were tied.

“Can you take a ride?” he asked. Laxus nodded.

“Yes, you can also take a bath, if you dare,” the blond grinned. Freed raised his eyebrows. He knew for himself that the lake's waters were frozen despite the hot weather.

“I don't have a bathing suit,” he replied.

“All apologies,” Laxus retorted. Freed shook his head but didn't reply and the two sat down on a bench. For a while they remained silent, until Laxus began to tell him how he had once 'stolen' a pedal boat as a child and left in the middle of the lake, making his grandfather and all his old friends worry. He laughed at the memory and Freed joined him, and Laxus explained how his grandfather had eventually sent a man to retrieve him. A certain Macao, who had followed him on another pedal boat but without being able to reach him before an hour, when Laxus was tired.

“That man has hated me since that time” Laxus laughed and Freed found himself giggling with him.

“He's not all wrong,” he smiled. “Why were you running away from him?” he then asked.

“I don't remember,” Laxus admitted. “Maybe I had a fight with my grandfather and I wanted to piss him off,” he explained shrugging. “Anyway, if you want to go get something safe to eat, we'll meet Macao and Wakaba, and they'll probably tell you how I got them damned as a child.”

“Oh, so I'm really curious to go there,” Freed smiled.

“I imagined it”.

“For the food, of course. Not for you.” Freed smiled. Laxus didn’t believe him but followed him when Freed decided to reach the farmhouse. The two boys sat outside, and as suspected, Macao and Wakaba were there and greeted him surprised to see him. The two men hadn't changed much, they were flirting with the local waitress, who kept rejecting them politely. Freed and Laxus took two soft drinks, and then spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Laxus' old memories.

***

Laxus and Freed had stopped talking too long, and they both agreed that it would take too long to go home, so they stopped to sleep in the farmhouse, discovering that they had two free rooms. They had dined together on the porch of the restaurant, and between one beer and another they were melting more and more and the laughter increased for stupid reasons.

“I guess you drank too much,” Laxus told Freed, who was tipsier than him and had flushed cheeks and a looser gab.

“I wouldn't say, I drank less than you,” he objected.

“Yes, but you hold up even less than me,” Laxus noted with a smirk. Freed snorted and grabbed a handful of chips and munched on them, having nothing to argue with. After a moment of reasoning, however, he smiled again.

“I wouldn’t say, I don’t miss the words. You can't even remember the movie you saw last week,” he retorted.

“Bickslow dragged me to see it, and it was shit. I removed it from my mind for this.” He defended himself and Freed smiled.

“Nah, you just have a short memory” he laughed and Laxus didn't know why but joined in the laugh. He wasn't drunk, but the alcohol in his body relaxed him. At that point the purple-haired waitress approached them, and she warned them that the bar was closing and if they could go to their rooms. The two boys didn't reply and got up from the table. Freed staggered for a moment and Laxus chuckled at the sight.

“You didn't drink too much, noooo,” he said wryly.

“Shut up” Freed muttered as he walked towards the interior of the room and the stairs. He climbed up to them by holding on to the handrail, walking a little crooked. Laxus would have made fun of him if he hadn't been busy staring at his ass. Eh, it was right in front of him. His instinct told him to reach out, and he didn't know how but he managed to stop himself. Maybe walking cleared his head, the fact is that when he got to the first floor, he had a lot of unchaste thoughts that he struggled to hold back.

Freed turned to him, leaning his back against his bedroom door, probably to stand up. At that moment Laxus realized how the boy's eyes were wandering freely around his body. Freed was really into him. Laxus had had the feeling that he was, but the boy had never been so blatant.

He would have kissed him, but despite the alcohol in his body, he forced himself not to. It wasn't the best time, maybe Freed would regret it the next morning. Laxus started to greet him, but before he could say anything Freed moved towards him.

In fact, Laxus had plenty of time to push him away, because Freed put his hands on his chest before rising to his toes, and paused for a moment before their lips collided. He peered into his eyes and, probably seeing that the blonde hadn't moved away, he pushed forward closing the gap between them.

That was enough to drive out all the rationality that was left in Laxus. He felt Freed part his lips and Laxus instinctively did it in turn, immediately making the kiss wet and making their tongues meet. He felt Freed's hand go up under his shirt and Laxus didn't stop him, in response he put his arm around Freed's waist and squeezed it against him. He felt Freed nibble on his lower lip and Laxus let out a groan, lowering another hand, feeling his buttock.

He knew it wasn’t the right way to do it, that he should have stopped, but maybe because of the alcohol or maybe because he had wanted to jump on Freed all afternoon, Laxus didn't stop. He let Freed wander his hands where he wanted, and in turn felt free to touch the boy's body.

After a while the two boys separated to catch their breath, and stared at each other for a moment, stunned. Laxus realized that Freed's hand was resting on his back under his shirt, and that Freed's thigh had landed between his legs, pressing on something that was hardening. Laxus's hand was touching Freed's ass directly under his pants, with only the fabric of the boxers separating it from the bare skin.

Fuck was going crazy. The desire to go beyond him was more and more, his heart galloped in his chest and he felt his lips burn, while the excitement continued to grow. Freed reached out and placed his lips on his neck, starting to kiss and suck voraciously. Laxus let out another moan as the urge to go through the door and slam Freed into bed grew out of all proportion.

And that's what he did as soon as Freed broke away from his neck. Laxus removed his hand from Freed's pants and looked for the key, entered the room and after closing the door, dragged Freed onto the bed. He didn't even know how but found himself lying on top of the boy, with Freed's hands lifting his shirt and their lips glued together. He no longer wondered if it was wrong or right, he didn't think about it himself. He let their clothes fly to the floor and soon after their bodies joined in uncontrollable passion.

[dastardlydandelion]

I wish you would write a fic where Susan got to keep her baby for once.

well. hm. what would this look like in my hands. okay, okay, so in this particular scenario, i actually imagine neil was putting 2 + 2 together and finding out susan's preggo right after the move. like, even before susan does. and she's all kinds of alarmed but neil is?? oddly excited?

he's all like, "isn't this great? we get to have a new baby in this new town. what a perfect way to cement our brand new life, huh?"

and susan doesn't want to be hopeful but with neil's positive reaction, she tentatively feels hope anyway. maybe things rly will be different, right?

continues under the cut bc this got fucking long.

yeah, well, neil's good mood lasts until it's actually born and responsibilities ensue. he never had to deal with billy as a baby rly, bc billy's mom took care of that part and also, like. in this 'verse at least, billy was a low-maintenance baby. didn't cry much. maybe he did at first but like, after being dropped on the head a couple times, he just went quiet and didn't rly bother anybody after that. wouldn't get loud again until elementary age. and max didn't come into neil's life until she was even elementary age, so defo past all the baby stuff.

the new infant tho screams like a mofo. everybody in the house is on edge. sleep is hard to come by for the whole household. the care and keeping responsibilities mostly fall on susan but neil holds it against her every. single. time. he has to change a diaper or hold a bottle, as if it's some major failing on susan's part that he should ever have to do anything like this at all.

max tries to help but she can't even hold the baby tbh. it makes her v uncomfortable, she never gets it right and doesn't know what to do when it squirms!! what if she drops it!? plus she thinks baby smells weird even when it's got a clean diaper, an unappealing mashed food and powder combo with a lingering whiff of wet rubber. and billy. is billy. he has to watch it sometimes, naturally. if it's just him and baby at home, he'll blast his stereo to cover up the crying, as long as he knows its other needs have been tended to. like, yk, the "it'll cry itself to sleep eventually," approach. which works actually. metallica becomes the go-to baby lullaby.

but lo and behold, when it's like, let's say 6 months or smth, baby gets an ear infection. like babies do. won't stop wailing. just. will NOT stop. v much in pain and has no other means of communication. neil and max are home. billy is on a date. susan's stuck in a long line at the grocery store. neil had a shitty day at work and he's already aggravated. pacifier isn't working, lil thing just keeps hollering, so. in a burst of frustration, he starts throttling baby. max is in her own room but hears it the second the noises change and hurries to help, blood ice cold.

she stops neil from killing baby sibling but gets a black eye and a bloody nose for her troubles. this is what susan comes home to. i've written a lot of susan kills neil scenarios but i think this is the first one that comes to mind where in this round, it really is out of anger and not fear. both are present, ofc. but the actual act on her part is one of anger. bc she feels stupid that he ever had her the slightest bit convinced a new baby would make anything better. that neil ever made her feel like he'd be better and instead, he chose to be even worse. susan ties him to the bedposts under the guise of a sex thing, convincing neil she wants to treat him to smth special bc he's been oh so stressed out lately. bashes his brains in with a hammer at least 20 times, a la sally challen style.

alas, reality commences and susan goes to prison. ig a long time ago there was this made for tv movie abt this lady killing her abusive husband by setting the bed aflame that gave the public the misconception that women who kill their abusers are typically acquitted, but uh, that's not true. yeah, it was true for the lady whom the movie was based off of, but usually they're convicted and serve unduly harsh sentences for their "crimes." but if i get on that soap box, we gonna be here the whole fucking day, so, moving on now. susan's off to the big house. albeit both baby and max's injuries are documented and considered mitigating circumstances so her charges are reduced from first degree murder to voluntary manslaughter with the potential for early release.

billy's close to 19 so he's an adult, if only technically speaking. has custody of baby and max. i've decided baby in this 'verse is amab but will eventually come out as trans when she's abt ten yrs old. billy tries his best. max tries her best too. baby's nickname is ducky bc the rubber duck?? by far the favorite toy!! baby p much lives in the bathtub, playing with the rubber duck. billy, who would move them back to cali in a heartbeat if it wasn't so far from susan's prison, defo relates. he's also aquatic by nature.

okay, so the move back to cali does happen. over the months of her kids coming to visit her in prison susan can see how exhausted the teenagers are and she's p much just like, 'u guys gotta go. get outta this rural heckhole u hate, stop bringing urselves n my bby to this dismal place.' and they don't think she's serious but the next time they come to visit, she doesn't meet them, so. yup. serious it is. billy, max, n baby take neil's life insurance money and head off to cali.

this is a modern au, okay, inmates sneaking smartphones into the prison n all that. so susan makes deals and friends and does favors, and gets some help from the ones who are good at bitcoin and scams and counterfeiting and what have you. this enables her to do discreet online "shopping." so she gets ducky all kinds of rubber ducks, at least a handful of times a year. the ducks get more unique and less childish as ducky grows. susan apologizes almost every time she talks to the older kids on the phone for like, five yrs. max isn't rly angry with how things ended with neil tho, more so has that residual anger that susan ever got together with neil in the first place. billy doesn't rly know what to feel tbh, accepts the apologies p numbly bc he's too damn exhausted with being the primary caregiver in over his head to even think abt how he feels at the end of the day.

susan gets released on good behavior around the same time ducky comes out, announcing she's a girl. it's an adjustment for billy and max to get used to bc they never rly suspected, but they're 100% supportive. susan is...oddly excited? not for selfless reasons (tho she is earnestly supportive) but bc it's like. not only does that mean trashing the masculine deadname neil had adamantly declared for ducky, but it means all in all, she got out at the perfect time bc she gets to be introduced to the authentic version of her child along w errbody else. makes her feel less left behind, like she didn't miss out on errything despite being put away for a decade. susan moves in with all of them, obvi, in a small house by the seaside filled to the brim with rubber ducks (billy and max also contributed to ducky's collection on birthdays and holidays, the first duck billy ever got has skulls, and the first max ever got is a frankenstein monster duck). home is cluttered, awkward, and tentative but free of fear and ripe with *genuine* new beginnings.

believe me, anonymoose, i am just as surprised as u are at how fuckin long this got.