#Because I have to unravel that mess in my own kitchen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charmercharm3r · 1 year

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Phases

Phase One: Emotion Sickness

LMH, HJS

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

wc: 8.7k

Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (jisung chapter focus), dom!jisung x brat!reader, mxm, overcome angst, alcohol consumption, unprotected but clean piv, orgasm denial, a nice lil slap, lots of teasing and back talk, marking, talk of training reader, cream pie, stupid asses in love

Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟPhase Two

Being best friends with Jisung is like living in a sitcom every day of your life. Everything about him is comical and endearing and you love every bit of him and his huge personality. You’d been friends with him for so long that when he sat you down, worried look on his face, and told you he liked both boys and girls you raised an eyebrow at him, “am I supposed to act surprised?”

“You’re not?” His expression changed from worry to confusion.

“As if we’re not a pair of bisexual assholes.”

“Wait, you like girls too?!”

“How have you survived this long?” You stood from your seat and pressed a mockingly sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling him into a hug.

Nothing in your friendship had changed other than things were a lot more open between you and Jisung. The two of you shared love interests and swapped between them like clothes back and forth, generally no relationship going past anything other than a second date and maybe taking them home. You both even went to testing centers together to make sure neither of you contracted any of the nasty. Definitely fun, reckless things kids in college did. That was, until Jisung met Minho in your senior year.

Minho was a few years older than you both, had a permanent job and lived on his own. He was his own person that somehow wiggled his way into your duo to become a trio. You weren’t mad at it, by any means, Minho was one of the most attractive, intriguing, successful men you’d ever seen. For that reason, you questioned why he wanted to be friends with Jisung, and even more, friends with you.

It became evident early on that he wasn’t leaving either of you alone any time soon and you became used to his presence, eventually coming to the point where you wanted to be around him just as much as you did Jisung. The three of you were the pinnacle of friend groups. So bound at the hip, none of you ever realized how strange it looked on the outside.

But Jisung and Minho started spending more time together, without you. Sure it sucked and yeah, you were hurt that they never bothered to invite you, but Minho was always Jisung’s friend before he was yours. You always just thought the three of you were a package deal, not accessories to be mixed and matched.

They made up for it in time after you expressed your feelings and were gracious not to make it a bigger deal than you wanted it to be. There weren’t even any tears shed… by Minho. You and Jisung, on the other hand, were absolute jokes of a mess, faces red, covered in tears and snot running down your noses, weeping into each other’s arms because you’re both the most dramatic people any of you know. When you pulled Minho into the hug, squishing Jisung between your bodies, he thought he might’ve shed a tear with how tightly you held him. But as the two of you fell apart, Minho wouldn’t bring himself to unravel out of sheer need to protect his only two constants. So he wrapped himself around you and Jisung, blanketing you both until your breaths and heartbeats returned to normal.

“C’mon Min, it’s just a little get together. You don’t even need to bring anything other than your pretty, pretty face,” you smiled up at the brunette who was flowing about the kitchen while you sat on the counter.

“You’re in my way,” he murmured and reached around your body to grab whatever he needed.

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding. Just ignoring.”

“Rude.”

Just as you spoke, the sound of the front door rang through the apartment, “who’s rude?” Jisung sounded. He kicked his shoes off and joined you and Minho, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Your boyfriend. He doesn’t wanna go to Changbin’s party tomorrow.” Neither of the two reacted at the labeled nickname. They were used to you making jokes, even turning it around and saying they were your boyfriends, too.

Minho peaked his head out from around the refrigerator door to look at you, “you said it was a ‘little get together.’”

“Potatoe, potato.”

“Why don’t you wanna go to Changbin hyung’s thing? Didn’t you agree to give him some cookbooks as a housewarming gift or something?” Jisung snatched a crouton from the salad bowl Minho was preparing, earning him a sharp look from the older.

“I just don’t feel like socializing.” Minho groaned into the fridge, closing the door around his head, hiding.

Jisung stood and wrapped his arms around Minho to playfully shake him back and forth, “pleeease, hyung?”

“Pleeease, Min?” You copied Jisung’s tone, “it’ll be so much fun. We can drink and eat good food and–”

“Fine,” he pulled his head out of the fridge and pushed Jisung away, “but we’re leaving by 10.”

None of you left by 10, and the housewarming party was not little. It was like you were back in college with how many people you didn’t know crammed into one room. And like most college parties, everyone was wasted beyond belief, even Changbin who was meant to be hosting. You, Minho, and Jisung tried greeting him only to be met by his overly affectionate persona that showed face when he was drunk. He had slung his arm over your shoulder and slurred incoherent sentences in your ear that made you laugh.

Minho didn’t like that, he shoved Changbin off of you and let him fall to the couch to let someone else deal with.

As the three of you made your rounds to greet everyone that was sober enough to speak to, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t let your friends be shit faced without any supervision. You took it upon yourself to watch over them, keep their face out of toilet bowls so they don’t drown and put a pillow under their heads when they finally passed out. Chan was sort of helping, though only for a little because Jisung convinced him to take a few more shots knowing how much of a lightweight he is, and Chan was soon down for the count as well and taking up space on the hallway floor. Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found, you could only guess they either left early or occupied one of the bathrooms to share the toilet. Seungmin refused to let you help him make it to the couch, Minho had to throw him over his shoulder to cooperate, and Jeongin followed you like a lost puppy until you coerced him into Changbin’s bed beside him where they both fell asleep.

You were too absorbed in getting all the other strangers out of the house and making sure your friends didn’t die that you didn’t realize it had probably been hours since you’d spoken to Minho or Jisung. Even if you arrived with and planned to leave with them, you suddenly felt lonely.

Turning down the music and flicking on the lights, you picked up whatever trash you could to get ahead of cleaning when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. Surely, it was your best friends because they would never leave you behind. Without thinking, you headed for the garbage can in the kitchen and hoped to talk Minho into forgiving you for keeping them out so late. The voices fell silent, as did your footsteps when you tiptoed over a passed out Chan to step into the room. You laughed at his sleeping form, using his jacket as a blanket and one of the couch’s throw pillows tucked beneath his head.

Just as you entered the kitchen’s doorway, your eyes fell upon what was both the most confusing and entrancing of scenes. Pinned between the countertop and Minho’s body was Jisung with his fingers carding through the brunette’s hair, tugging him closer while their lips moved in together in a delicate dance. The sound of their mouths colliding and lungs striving for air was the only thing you could hear, ringing in your ears like a siren song. Minho’s hands snaked around the younger’s waist and made him look small in his grasp. You particularly watched the way neither of them seemed to be in a hurry and how gently they held one another. Your hand moved on its own, coming up to your mouth to touch your lips like they were longing for the same warmth. The movement made the plastic red cups in your hold drop to the floor with a loud clatter, scaring you into dropping everything else, too.

The two boys pulled away from each other in the blink of an eye, immediately realizing that it was you. Their stares were wide and frantic and ears tinted red. Jisung scratched at the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt, Minho ran his fingers through his hair, and both their lips plump, glossy, kiss bitten. They looked between each other and back at you, then each other again before taking a step forward in unison towards you. You took a step back, still unsure of what to do. Neither of them pressed again, just watching your movements.

“I didn’t mean to intrude…” you laughed out of nervousness and embarrassment, moreso the latter hoping they couldn’t see the pink that covered your cheeks. “I’m… I’m gonna go home.”

“We’ll come with you,” Jisung was quick to speak, holding his hand out. You backed away another step, an anxious chuckle leaving you.

“That’s okay. I– I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” Jisung backed down, knowing that the sympathetic smile on your face was enough to show you weren’t mad or upset, just needing space.

However, Minho looked like a lost puppy that was just kicked to the ground, more than hurt. The sheen that covered his eyes were painful to look at, as though you’d been the one to hurt him. As far as that was from the truth, you still had to blink a few overwhelmed tears away while simultaneously feigning a smile so hard your cheeks hurt. His hands were less antsy, clutching one over his chest. As you looked between them, you swiped the stray moisture from your eyes and gave them a thumbs up, “I’ll see you guys… uh… soon… Bye.”

With that, you left, hoping the night air would make the fog in your brain dissipate.

Out of all the things you expected the night to bring, seeing your two best friends kissing definitely wasn’t one of them. By no means were you angry, not at them, at least. Confused, sure, but who wouldn’t be? More than anything, you were curious. They seemed so comfortable with each other, as though they’d been doing it for years.

If you hadn’t alarmed them, what would have happened next? If you hadn’t run away, what would they have said? If you hadn’t reacted so badly, would you be asleep next to them and not in your own bed alone?

As you laid facing the ceiling, your mind wandered back to the night before. The sounds of their wet lips smothering one another, the grip of Jisungs fingers pulling Minho’s hair so sweetly and Minho caressing Jisung like he was fine china. You wondered when the hell that had happened, when they happened. There wasn’t a day since you had expressed feeling left out that they had neglected inviting you, so how the fuck did you miss all the signs? And why was it bothering you that you did? You should be beyond the moon that your two most precious people in the world are seeing each other, because they’re perfect. They’re perfect together and you couldn’t have picked anyone better to make them happy. Right?

Right. They’re carbon copies in different fonts, strangely perfect and perfectly strange. Why does your chest feel so tight? Since when did your heart beat in your stomach? There’s no way you could be jealous, or else you’d be an even shittier person than you thought you already were.

In the two days you had been ignoring their texts and phone calls– mostly Jisungs’s– you ran through every possible explanation your smooth brain could come up with. There was that they were drunk and it was a spur of the moment thing. Though, that wouldn’t explain either of their reactions, if that was the case then they would’ve laughed it off. You also theorized that maybe Jisung had food on his face, it was a common enough occurrence that you couldn’t rule it out entirely. Yeah, that’s the one. Minho was helping him because Jisung would rather aimlessly lick his tongue around his lips than use a napkin, and it just so happened that they—

Knock, knock, knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone, and deliveries can never make it up the six flights of stairs to get to your front door. Haphazardly, you tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. Jisung was bouncing up and down in his spot, ashy blonde hair messy like he’d just wrestled with a bear. His head snapped straight up to the dark side of the peephole, “Y/N, c’mon. I heard you walk up to the door.”

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself before letting him in.

Jisung pushed his way through before you even had the opportunity to open the door all the way, kicking off his house slippers and pacing around your living room. Slowly shutting it behind you, you leaned your back against the door and clutched onto your elbows. He waved his hands around like he was having an internal battle with himself. In fact, Jisung looked like he’d been fighting that battle for the past two days. He was still dressed in his house shorts and a ratty old shirt you remember him buying years ago, there was a hole in his sock where his big toe was and it made you smile small at his never ending hardheadedness even after both you and Minho told him to throw the pair away.

“Ji,” you called, voice cracking slightly. He stopped his stride and eyes shot teary daggers into your soul. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“B– but I need to! Things are so much more complicated than it looked when you found us and you deserve answers because you’ve never once kept anything from us and–”

You took a few strong steps forward to catch him by the shoulders and came face to face. He was almost shaking in your hold, letting your hands warm the cold skin of his neck to sooth him. Jisung melted into your touch and you could feel him already beginning to calm, though his lip still trembled, so much he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. So you spoke first, “you two are my most favorite people in the entire world. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Jisung took your hands and guided them to his cheeks, keeping you from moving. He took a closer step into you, “you’re our favorite person. And the way you looked at us…” The way he referred to the pair of them made you feel just that much more sick in your gut. “I’d rather die than have you look at me like that again.” His hands held yours tighter, squishing your palms to his cheeks to the point of his lips puckering.

You didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to calm down enough so that he could articulate himself the way he wanted. When he did, Jisung sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to tell you something but you need to promise me you won’t run.”

“You know I have a 14 minute walking mile time.” He laughed breathily and guided you both to sit on the floor, couch behind your backs with your hands still glued to his cheeks. “You can tell me anything.”

“Min wanted to wait, but I can’t stand not talking to you for so long–”

“It’s been two days.”

“Exactly. And I’m going crazy because I love you so much…” Jisung gritted his teeth as he said it, you filled the tense silence by whispering, “I love you, too.”

“No, no… Y/N. I love you,” his tone went higher the more he spoke, scared of the blank, expressionless look on your face. Your silence made him keep talking, “I’m in love with you and I’m in love with Minho and he’s in love with you, too. We’re in love with you and I can’t take another second without you knowing that.”

Either you felt everything at once or you felt nothing at all, though you doubted the latter was the issue. The problem was that you didn’t know what it was you were feeling, the two days of voluntary solitude wasn’t enough for you to understand the panging in your chest and how your heart was about to fall out of your ass or the way you wanted to jump Jisung’s bones and hug him until you molecularly phased into his body. All that, and all you could say was, “I love you, too,” again.

It seems he had the same thoughts you did because Jisung crashed his body into yours and sent you slamming into the floor with him keeping you in a bone crushing embrace. His head stayed buried in your neck and hand tangled in your hair, the way you remember him doing to Minho. The feeling of him pulling you in closer by the roots had you wrapping your legs around his torso so the two of you were shaped around one another like a vine. How long you stayed like this, you didn’t know, just that he left supple kisses along the junction of your shoulder that made your head spin with adoration.

More than likely it was hours later that the two of you made your way into your bed with a laughable amount of snacks and coffee to keep you awake for another two days, snuggled beneath the covers. This was normal, in bed with him doing nothing but talking and sharing your thoughts was what you and Jisung did on a regular basis. Except now, he was on his side, head propped in his palm and looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Little to your knowledge, he always looked at you like that. It was only at this moment did you realize.

“When did you and Min… get together?” Your voice was soft, listening intently.

“The same time you got mad at us for leaving you out. That wasn’t intentional and I already knew how I felt about you. I was just… caught up in the moment for a little? God, I had never felt so shitty in my life, making you cry like that.” Jisung lifted his hand to thumb at your cheek as you smiled into his touch.

“Yeah, I didn’t really appreciate that either,” you joked. “So… you’ve known you liked me–”

“Love you,” he corrected.

“Loved me,” Jisung nodded in approval. “And you told Min before you told me?”

“I was scared! You don’t have the best track record with confrontation, babe.” You both giggled at the recall of the previous night, your head falling against his chest to hide the tinge of pink on your cheeks. His free hand held your cheek to his pec and soothingly massaged your scalp until you both relaxed.

It was silent again for a little as you readjusted to lay completely in his arms, engulfed in his scent and body heat. As you laid there, your mind went through all of the times where the three of you were together, you scanned the background of your memories for all the weird stares you’d get from passersby or comments your friends made, even the times where they’d call themselves your boyfriends and how easily it rolled off their tongues.

“Okay.”

Jisung looked down at you, humming with confusion, “okay?”

“Break it down for me.” You drew meaningless shapes into his skin through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pick up just a little. “I wanna know how this is… all gonna work.”

“Oh! O– okay, well,” Jisung took in a large breath before reaching for your fidgeting hand and intertwining your fingers. “We’ll go slow, step by step, take as much time as you need to feel comfortable. Phase one, we do everything we already do just with a few… more than friendly perks.”

You lingered on the way your hand fit in his so nicely, skin soft and his pretty fingers decorated with rings. “What about Minho? You said he didn’t want you to tell me yet.”

Jisung sighed at the mention of the older. “We let him bring it up at his own pace. He scares away like a cat, y’know.”

The longer Jisung played with your hand, the longer you yearned to touch him, more of him. Mentioning Minho made you remember the tight grip he had in the brunette’s hair, how sweet he sounded when kissing him. You bit your lip at the thought and was suddenly raging with confidence. “So,” you sat up and looked at him, now towering over his figure. “If I wanted to kiss you, would I have to wait to do it infront of him?”

“Y– you wanna kiss me?” Jisung’s eyes widened, pads of his fingers coming up to press against his lips.

Taking his hand away, you guided it to your neck the way he did to you earlier. “Since we’re being honest, I can’t stop thinking about that night, you and him.” His grip tightened just a little as your hand splayed over his chest and slowly rose up. “Can I? Kiss you?”

“Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you to as–”

Jisung pulled you into him before he could finish his thought, slotting against you with ambition. He felt just as you imagined him, eager but mindful in how to hold you, letting you set the tone with just closed mouth smooches as the sounds of your lips smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. Both his hands found their way into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer until your body fell onto him entirely. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, kissing your best friend until you were both breathless and needy, knowing better than to do anything more.

But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him everywhere, make him cower into the sheets and make him feel how much you loved him. There was just too much right now, too much to be figured out. A night of desire wasn’t worth a lifetime of friendship.

So as you pulled away, reluctant Jisung whining and chasing after you for more, you let your forehead rest against his and let out a satisfied laugh. “Slow,” you whispered, letting him pepper kisses to your cheeks.

“Can’t we just jump to phase three?” He breathed against your skin.

“What’s phase three?”

Jisung’s lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving wet streaks the further he descended. “You, me, Min, a big ass bed covered in rose petals and candle light. Maybe a kick ass playlist to set the mood–”

The sound of your phone ringing made the both of you jump as if you were being caught doing something illegal. You broke into another fit of giggles when you found out it was Minho calling you. “Hey, pretty boy,” you answer him with a grin, still looking down at Jisung who stared up at you fondly.

“Jesus, Y/N. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? Are you home? I– I’ve tried calling you for days–”

“Two days, Min.”

“Days. It’s been days.” Jisung could hear his voice booming through the phone, laughing and shrugging at how it’s the same thing he’d told you.

“I’m okay.” You eased his worries with two simple words, hearing him sigh on the other end of the call.

“You’re okay,” Minho repeated, relieved.

There was a pause in his breathing, probably unsure of what to say as he walked on eggshells. You knew this about him, he needed careful approaching, as Minho doesn’t like what he doesn’t already know. “I’m coming over tomorrow,” you stated.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

Chuckling lightly, you let Jisung bring your fingertips to his lips and press a kiss to them. As you smiled at the man beneath you, you spoke into the phone, “love you.”

“Whatever… Love you, too.”

“Love you, too!” Jisung yelled into the speaker before you hung up, hearing Minho let out a strangled call of the other boy’s full name and the line went dead.

Jisung immediately took your phone and tossed it aside so he could kiss you again. And again, and again, and again, until both your lips were raw and bruised and chapped.

He slept over and the two of you went over to Minho’s the next afternoon. You were dizzy with how quickly things were changing in your trio’s dynamic, but chose to embrace it rather than question it. Jisung assured you that everything will move as you chose, there was no pressure to do anything you didn’t want to— except talking to Minho. That was something the two men previously agreed that that was Minho’s conversation to have with you. It made you nervous, but if you know him like you think you do, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Nothing was out of any sorts. The topic of the housewarming party was nowhere in sight as you ate lunch, stayed for dinner and even dessert, deciding to call it a night a bit later.

Days went by like that. In front of Minho, everything was the same. But when you and Jisung were alone, things began to get more and more heated. Hands roamed further, kisses became more desperate, you had to force yourself off his lap out of guilt that Minho didn’t know what was happening.

“Baby, you think I wouldn’t tell him? He knows,” Jisung explained after what was probably the fourth or fifth time that week you’ve stopped before you could even get started.

“He knows?! For how long?!” You fully slammed on his crotch, Jisung wincing in pain and accidentally knocking his head back against his headboard. Crossing your arms over your chest, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the heavy contact.

“For a few days— can you not sit—“

You intentionally sat deeper, crushing him. “When exactly did you tell him?”

“Three days ago— Y/N, my balls, please—“

“We could’ve had sex three days ago without me feeling like a guilty piece of shit?!”

“There’ll be no dick to have sex with if you don’t get up!” You lifted your hips with a roll of your eyes, Jisung sighing with relief as the pressure alleviated. “I briefly mentioned it in passing that you were a little weary about moving forward without talking to him.”

“Oh… Well, what did he say?”

“That he’s getting there. He’s just really embarrassed,” he caught your hands fidgeting again, holding them tightly in his own before guiding your palms against his chest.

“Embarrassed? About what?”

“How you found out. Let him tell you the details, I think it’s better that way.” You nodded, exhaling deeply as your heart sank a little that Minho was too embarrassed about the whole thing to even speak to you.

“Is he… embarrassed of me?” The sting of hot tears wanted to swell in your waterline, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that you caused him to feel such a way. You know Minho, you know Jisung, and you know that there has never been a time where you didn’t think you couldn’t go to them for anything. You were sure that if you killed someone, they’d get rid of the body to keep you out of jail. Or better yet, help you plan the murder so none of you were even considered suspects.

Jisung sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso to bring you in for a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Baby, baby, no. That’s not it at all!” Your small sniffle had him squeezing you tighter, “I can’t explain it to you the way that he can, but just know we love you. And we want to be with you. You know how weird his mind works. He’ll talk to you about it soon.”

Nodding in agreement, taking Jisung’s words to heart and letting your mind drift away from the brunette and back to the ashy blonde beneath you.

Pulling away from your hiding spot, the aching between your legs was still painfully present, as was the straining in his pants. Pushing his hair from his face while your other hand thumbed at his mouth, your eyebrows raised, “I’m guessing you’re not big on cock stepping?”

Laughing, falling back and taking you with him, Jisung’s hands slipped just under the hem of your shirt to feel your warm skin. “Not particularly. I’d like to have kids someday.”

You smiled as he kissed you, a simple peck that multiplied down his neck and across his exposed collar bones. He liked that area, you noted in the way his hips kicked up into yours and the grip around your waist grew stronger. His hands slipped higher until you decided to discard the shirt entirely, your bra clad cleavage proudly in his face. It wasn’t anything special, but Jisung’s eyes blew wide as though your covered breasts were the key to his life’s questions.

“How can you go from crying about our boyfriend to having your tits in my face? Like a fucking angel,” he ogled your chest unabashedly.

“I’m not even naked yet,” you giggled, blushing.

“Oh god, you’re right.” Jisung dragged his hands down his face while letting his eyes roll back and dramatically whimpering.

Leaning down to kiss him, you shot back up just as quickly, “our boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend, my boyfriend. The broody, moody guy that cooks for us sometimes and smells really good—”

“Han Jisung,” you interrupted him once more. “Ask me the question.”

“Y’know, I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Did you, now?”

“I was waiting for the right time to say it.”

“Mhm.”

“I was! I practiced it in the bathroom mirror and I gotta say, I’d definitely date me.” Nodding your head some more, you tapped your forefinger against his cheek. “Fine, fine. Cliff notes version,” your approving hum made Jisung clear his throat. “Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your one of two boyfriends.”

“Only because you said please.”

You were flipped onto your back in the split second it took to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips when your head hit the pillows. The room was filled with giggles from you and Jisung, hands roaming where they never had before but feeling as though they should’ve been the whole time. He never stayed away for too long, when he took his hands away to strip off his shirt, Jisung grinded his hips deeply into you, fabric on fabric good but not nearly enough.

You’d seen him shirtless more than enough times and each time you’d wanted to run your tongue through the lines of his abs. How badly you wanted to do that now as Jisung towered over you, looking down at your body, his to devour. His eyes were dark, tiniest of glimmers when he smiled deviously. Thumb pressing against your lips, Jisung tilted his head and pouted, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, baby.

“If it gets too much for you, call yellow, we’ll slow down. Say red and we’ll stop completely. Okay?” You nodded, understanding what you were getting into with him. There have been enough vague yet pinpoint detailed stories shared, making you all the more excited to finally experience it for yourself.

He didn’t need to force his digit past your lips, you let him in without a fight, immediately sucking and teasing him with your tongue. Jisung tsked at your eagerness, “what happened to going slow, hm?”

Teasing. He was teasing you, using your words against you because Jisung knew that’s where his strength lied. He knew he could say the nastiest of things and get away with it, he did it before everything happened and now he could say it with all intents and purposes. Your hips rutted up from under him, but Jisung’s body weight kept you pinned to the mattress. The more you squirmed the bigger he smiled. His chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths was taunting you, your free hand reaching up to trace your nails down his skin from his pec down to the hem of his pants. Jisung shivered at the feeling and you had the honor of witnessing his cock twitching.

Plucking his thumb away, Jisung smeared your saliva over your lips and cheek until his fingers tangled in your hair again, this time yanking you somehow even further against the pillows. Your wince was followed by a menacing giggle, provoking him into gripping the roots tighter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, babe.”

“You’re so cute when you try to be scary,” you pouted up at him mockingly, laugh turning into a moan when he tugged your head up and leaned over to be centimeters away from each other.

“Is being intimidating only Min’s thing? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Then teach me. How scared should I be of you, baby?”

Jisung huffed and threw you back down, climbing off your body entirely and stepping to the side of the bed. You laid on your side, looking up at him as his eyes raked up and down your figure, bra strap slipping off your shoulder and house shorts riding up to just barely show the outline of your aching cunt. Jisung’s mouth watered as you waited for his response, your face feigning innocence while your body was screaming for his touch.

His hand lingered over the button of his pants for a second before crouching to your eye level. “You want the beginner lesson?”

“Advanced.” Jisung pecked your lips once more before standing tall again, finally undoing his pants and relieving the pressure. His bulge fell over the zipper, covered only by his boxers and even those seemed too tight. You bit your lip, reaching out for him. Jisung slapped your hand away and scrunched his eyebrows together, “who gave you permission?”

“I did,” you answered immediately.

“You’re not the boss, baby. Not right now. I don’t have the patience to deal with your brattiness, you’ve kept me waiting for too long already.” He took his pants off and boxers along with it, length springing free in your face.

“Why’s that? You only let Min talk shit to you?”

“Nah, you’ll see. I’ve trained him real good, and I’m gonna do the same with you.”

Jisung manhandled you to hang your head over the edge of the bed, looking at him upside down. The way he threw you around like a ragdoll was painfully arousing, you knew he worked out, but not just how strong he was. “Oh, so you can use those muscles. Who knew?”

“You’re still making jokes? Aren’t you the one on your back?”

“Aren't you the one on a leash?”

“And who’s holding the lead? You?” Jisung scoffed, taking his cock in hand and slowly stroking. It wasn’t until you saw it in his grasp did you realize the extent of his size, you turned to get a better look but was shoved back into position instantly. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re too cock hungry to even control yourself. What ever made that pretty head think it could control me?”

Holding you down by the shoulder, your mouth opened and tongue fell out as Jisung gave a few soft slaps to your cheek with his dick. As degrading as it was, nothing was more humiliating than the fact that you couldn’t stop your legs from pressing together and your hands white knuckling the sheets to stop from shoving them down your pants. He chuckled and his own jaw went slack. “See? Just a slutty little puppy. Wanting to suck on anything and everything.”

You whined a little when he forced your mouth closed with his free hand and held you steady, smearing his precum covered tip around your lips. “Aw, you sound so cute. Cute pup.”

Hips kicking higher, you let them fall back down roughly and drawing his attention elsewhere. Jisung let your jaw go to shove his cock down your throat unexpectedly, making you gag and tears immediately flood. He didn’t give you room to even think, his balls pressing against your nose and leaning over your body to bury himself deeper. Just when you thought you were going to tap out, Jisung pulled away and had you gasping for air.

“Where’d you learn to take cock so well, pup? Mind if I help myself?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, propping himself up on either side of your torso and blindly entering your mouth again. Your throat constricted around it for a few seconds, letting himself succumb to the warm, wet walls. The muffled whimper made goosebumps rise along Jisung’s skin and pull out to the tip. You swirl your tongue around and around, suckling him like a lollipop and attempting to keep your hands to yourself. As if not touching yourself was torture enough, he took a handful of the front of your shorts and pulled, center seam rubbing against your clit easily with how wet you were.

“Didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he laughed darkly and practically holding your lower half in the air by your shorts, frantically searching for friction. “You were even easier to tame than Min, just had to tell him how cute he was and he was a goner. You? All you want is a good cock to pacify you, hm? Who woulda thought.”

The mumble of your attempted response was intelligible until he pulled away to let his dick fall from your mouth, “what was that, pup?”

“Need your cock,” you breathed heavily, finally able to now that your mouth was free.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Jisung dropped your lower half and stuck his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers swiping at youre core and spreading your arousal beneath the fabric. “Gonna make you crave me all the fucking time.”

Finally being touched had your jaw hanging open again, but he didn’t seem to notice, entranced by the lewd sound of your wetness. He wasn’t rough but not gentle either, massaging the perfect amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves and made you rub your hips into his palm. You’ve been worked up for days, desperate to come, desperate enough to grab his hand and still him, using him to your pleasure without care. Jisung let you for the time being, stuck in a trance watching the way you moved. How small your hand looked wrapped around his wrist, it’d look even prettier around his–

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fu–”

Jisung stole himself away just before you could finish, killing the impending high you so deeply wanted.

“No, no! Fucking hell, why?!” You whined loudly, legs spasming from denial.

He didn't answer you, not losing any adrenaline and still able to powerfully maneuver you away from the edge of the bed, strip away your remaining clothing, and have you sitting on top of him again in a moment’s notice. Jisung sat with his back against the headboard, though low enough that your head leveled higher than his, staring down at his sweaty, smug face.

“Fucking pillow princess,” you murmured out of spite, not thinking anything of it as you reached for his cock.

Grabbing your hand tightly, “the fuck did you call me, pup?” Jisung tilted his head back and dominatingly peered at you through sharp eyes, clearly not playing.

“Pillow. Princess.” You struggled to get out of his grasp. The denied orgasm had pissed you off, initially ready to let him have his way until he stripped you of the one thing he knew you’d been pining for. This was retaliation.

The light slap across your cheek sent you into a monetary daze, eyes going wide at the sting. Jisung was already looking at you when you peered down at him, clear in the way his chin tipped up at you that you had lost that battle.

“Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you, pup. Be my good fucking girl and ride.” Not like you were beaten into submission, moreso talked into it, you whimpered and lip involuntarily pouted. Jisung’s handle on your wrist loosened and allowed you to take his dick in hand, pressing the tip to your entrance. As a last desperate act, you circled it around the rim, gathering your essence and teasing the both of you. “Last warning,” he threatened, not bothering to look at you as the sight of him about to enter you was distracting enough.

When you sank down, slow, inch by inch, you melted into one another as you came to the hilt, shivering once your clit made contact with the warm skin of his pelvis. Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, his hands rubbing soothingly over the tops of your thighs and up your love handles. The two of you stayed like this for a while, his domineering act washing away a little as your lip continued to tremble. He smirked, cupping your cheek, “awe, too much for you, pup?”

His counterfeit sympathy was obvious, but you’d take what you could get, nuzzling into his palm and nails digging into his abdomen. Jisung nodded along with you, jutting his lower lip out while also reading your face for any sign of discomfort. He knew you had limits, just testing where they were knowing fully well you could stop if you wanted.

Though, you shook your head, no, brows scrunching together and eyes blinking away pleasureful tears. You were already breathless and overwhelmed, leaving red crescents into Jisung’s skin wherever you laid your claws, but he seemed to like the pain. He pushed your hands deeper into him and looked straight into your eyes, “ride.”

Experimentally, you leaned forward and lifted your hips, sinking back down almost uncoordinatedly with how excited and overwhelmed you were. Jisung could feel your thighs shaking as you sat down fully on him, he placed his hands on your love handles and gave an encouraging squeeze.

Raising again, you slammed down harder, repeating the action until you found a steady rhythm. Filling and emptying, again and again, you were dizzy with how good it felt. Heat flushed your body as you lost yourself in working against him, genuinely paying no mind to the man blushing beneath you. Jisung gazed at you in awe, adoration as you enjoyed yourself. He didn’t even feel the need to help you anymore, putting his hands behind his head and took in the sight of your tits bouncing with each motion. The longer you kept your pace, your knees and thighs burned and muscles began to grow tight. You changed the position slightly, propping one leg up and using that leverage to continue. But even that became tiresome, finding yourself growing much too emotionally saturated to bring yourself to orgasm.

Jisung could feel this, your frustration, and he felt somewhat bad that he hadn’t given you the first high. Only somewhat. Seeing you work yourself into a whining, moaning mess made him smile to himself and sit up to press his chest to yours. Jisung peppered kisses along your collarbone and softly worked you down to a slow grind. Your heart rate fell steady as he finally indulged you with a sweet kiss, stark comparison to the mean words he spat earlier.

He wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t leave you wanting more, pulling away prematurely and leaning back again, this time taking you with him. He guided your hands to hold onto the top of the head board and smother his face in your breasts. Marks he bit into your skin felt more pleasurable than painful, you wondered if the slap before truly hurt or if you were just shocked.

Your grip on the headboard tightened as his hands lifted you a bit more by your bottom and spread your knees wider. Jisung jutted up slightly, testing his and your patience. He did this again, shallowly thrusting just the tip into you, making you moan, “Ji, baby, pleeease.”

“Am I still a pillow princess, pup? You couldn’t even get yourself to cum, now I have to do all the work.” Even if it was mean, his tone of voice like mothering a toddler that was learning to eat on their own, gentle teaching.

“Hnghhh, nooo,” you mewled.

“No, what, pup?” Jisung continued his depthless ruts, egging you on.

“Can’t– need to– wanna cum–”

He could hear how fragile you were now, overall amazed by you to the point he wanted to ditch the entire facade and give you everything you wanted. Though, he needed to see it through till the end, more like to prove to himself that he could do it in the first place.

Adjusting his hands to grip your love handles firmly, Jisung kept you in place to thrust up into you. You were caught off guard at how quickly he gave into your needy pleas, knees almost giving out below you. But Jisung was quick to catch your weight, every thrust up as you fell down kept you bouncing once again, tits jiggling in his face delightfully smothering. The minor slap he left to your ass made your cunt clench and cry out louder, then repeating just to get a reaction. Jisung wasn’t sure what he loved more, how naturally your body responded to him or how you couldn’t seem to get enough.

Your hands moved from the head board to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to brace yourself on and to feel as close as possible. Here, you were coming undone quicker than expected, having him doing the work now let you fall victim to the euphoria of his cock nudging the sweet spot within you, stars behind your eyelids. Ripples of pain from Jisung teething at your skin meshed with the pleasure, you didn’t realize how loud you had gotten until you couldn’t hear him nor the skin on skin anymore.

Body shaking, coveting for the high and well on its way, you snuck your hands into his hair and hardly needed to tug to have Jisung’s head falling back and looking up at you through his lashes. His thrusts kept a steadier rhythm, digging his heels into the mattress and coercing you into meeting his lips in a jolty, electrifying kiss. Just as your lips met, the tip of his cock hit your soft spot right on target, shoving you face first into the feeling you’d been dying for. Your body tensed and clenched around him, fucking you through your orgasm until it eventually subsided.

A bit longer you let Jisung use your body to chase his own, he deserved it for putting up with your sharp tongue. Even that didn’t take very long, Jisung had been fending off his orgasm for over twenty minutes, from even before you took your shirt off.

And when the white light blinded him, Jisung let out a string of curses and your name, hints of whiney whimpers in between. He was exceptionally quick to recover, immediately noting your state of mind and body and helped you to lay down.

You winced as he pulled out and used his shirt to catch any spillage, holding it to your cunt before he airlifted you to the bathroom. You had forgotten whose house you were in, that’s how hazy you’d gotten.

Jisung let you finish your business, kissing your forehead and wiping your body down with a wet rag once you’d called his name to help you back to bed.

The bed in question was beyond messy, fitted sheet undone and comforter on the floor. Did Jisung always sleep with just one pillow? No, there were the other three strewn about the perimeter of the bed, one somehow ending up at the foot of it. Jisung, seeing where your head was at as he set you down to lay back, said, “got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”

“We?” You joked, voice horse. He gave you a wink and ran off to grab some water before retreating into the space next to you.

Neither of you bothered to get dressed, laying naked in one another’s arms as you decompressed together. “You’re not as rough as I thought you’d be,” you admitted, rolling over and throwing a leg over his torso.

“I’m not? Noted,” Jisung raised an eyebrow and kissed your forehead again. “If we’re giving feedback, I’d say Minho is gonna have a hell of a time with you. He’ll like the whole brat thing.”

“Did you?” You look up at him, genuinely just curious.

“That’s not even a question,” he waved it off, scoffing because how could you not tell that he was internally cursing himself for not confessing to you sooner if that was the outcome? “Everything I could ask for and more.”

“I liked the nickname a lot. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Yeah? It suits you. Cute puppy,” Jisung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly, knocking the air out of you. “But I’m curious,” his voice dropped just a little. “You think of us? Me and Minho?”

“Well— yeah. And honestly, I thought the roles would’ve been reversed.”

“You think he’s a top? Oh, sweet, sweet, baby.” Jisung pecked loving kisses to the top of your head, “he’s half a power bottom at best.”

“To be fair, I didn’t even know he liked girls,” the whisper in your tone softened along with Jisung’s touch, moving to gently run his fingers through your hair.

“He’s the real pillow princess, baby. You might have to knock some sense into him.”

Smirking up at him, “you’ll let me?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want to him.”

“Mmm, you wouldn’t mind if I mark him up?” Jisung’s eyebrow raised, intrigued, “let me cover him in pretty bruises?”

“I’d kill to see that, pup.” You were being smothered in kisses once more, closing your eyes and falling victim to his sweet touches. “But tell me what else you think about. You’ve piqued my interest.”

“You want me to tell you that I fantasized about my best friends making out?”

“Duh. Me, though, tell me what you think about me.” You could just tell he was wiggling his eyebrows with a sly smirk.

You groaned, “in the morning. Tired.”

Jisung took hold of your shoulders and shook you side to side, whining, “nooo, puppy, pleeease? Just a few compliments then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Protests went in one ear and out the other with him, not letting you lay still until you gave him what he wanted. “You’re so lucky I like you, fucking menace.”

“Just like?” His mouth fell open into an “O.”

“Love. I love you.”

It was a lot easier to say when you had your face buried in his chest, not having to look him in the eye as you did. You knew that if you had been looking at him, you might’ve broken into tears, which would’ve made Jisung cry, too. That still didn’t stop your face from heating up and being hit with another rush of emotions.

“How much?” He teased, thankfully not seeing your eyes glaze over.

“I love you a lot. Like, a monumental amount and… Min, too. It’s scary,” your voice falling short and nuzzling your cheek into his skin.

Jisung let you take your time to slow your breathing again before he spoke, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared if I look at you, I’ll cry like a baby.”

“I know you will. Just hold me?”

He did, tighter, if that was even possible. “I will, just like this. Except when Min’s here, he’ll be right behind you to keep your cute booty warm when you fall asleep. You won’t have any space to move ‘cus neither of can stand to not be touching in some way. You’ll probably overheat and be on the verge of death by heatstroke, we give off heat like fucking furnaces. I’ll have a little snack on my side table in case you get hungry in the middle of the night, or you can roll over and get a few cuddles from Min, I won’t be upset, cross my heart.” You giggled at that. “We can move into his place since we all know he has the biggest bedroom, or we can look for another place to fit all three of us and give you a nice, big closet. Every night, we can take turns cooking and let Min throw a fit when we both burn the food so he ends up cooking for us anyways…”

Your chest was filled, warm and sickeningly sweet with the words Jisung continued to whisper in your ear until you eventually fell asleep. The nauseating feeling of waiting, wondering was nowhere near now that there was a clear landing for where you stood in their established relationship, at least, for now.

A/N: YAYAYAYAY phase one!!! idea: 10/10, execution: 4/10...I've been having a hard time connecting ideas lately and I think it's just stress but I'm hoping this lived up to expectations ://

feedback!! feed me!! I love love love hearing what you all think! it really does help me improve as a writer, even if it's constructive!

reminder to drink water, eat three meals a day, give your loved ones a hug. < 3

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @angelica-erin-caelius @dazzlingligth @lvrmin @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten

story tags: @bookwyrm28 @ladylexis @blankdyean @sujurunaway @mal-lunar-28 @pussy-drunk @bangchxnnie @lyramundana @bumblebee-zone @bloopreads @propertyoftoru @ana-stasssiaaa @iheartjozzy @kurxxmi

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atarathegreat · 1 year

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Toshinori Yagi- I'm not Him

Toshinori was agitated too often in the recent months. Between being a new hero and still studying, he was trying to settle into a new routine with you and getting used to being his own adult. It was all so stressful for him. He knew you had been picking up on it, getting anxious the longer you were around him while he was in his huffy moods. It didn't make him feel any better that sometimes he got snappy with you, if anything it made him feel awful. Toshinori wanted you to feel secure around him, not afraid.

Classes ended early and the agency he was working with had no need for the extra hands, so he headed home. It wasn't any better for him there, as you were rushing around and only got faster after seeing him in the front hall. The tears on your face were evident to Toshinori, even though he was multiple feet from you.

"Babe?" He called after you, hearing how you whimpered. There was a loud crash and thud, a much louder yelp coming from you that made him rush around the corner to find you pinching pieces of broken plates, gripping them so tightly you were cutting your fingers open. "Hey, don't grab that!" Toshinori yelled, falling next to you and swatting the glass from your hands, startling you more than you already were, "It's glass, Y/n! What are you thinking?"

"I'm sorry!" You cried, shaking in his grip. His raised voice wasn't helping anything, and he noticed how you wanted to pull away from him. "No, I'm sorry." Toshinori sighed, pulling you up from the floor, "Let's go and get your hands cleaned up...before you lose too much blood or get an infection."

You dug your feet in, not wanting to go anywhere with him while he was in another mood. "Love, please, I just want to get your hands taken care of." Toshinori turned and picked you up, not giving you a choice in the matter. Of course, it didn't sit right with him that you were shaking because of him, but he was aware it wasn't really his fault. He loved you, and hurting you wasn't something he wanted to do, unlike your ex who'd done far too much.

"Stay still..." He mumbled, setting you on the bathroom sink, "M'gonna bandage your hands, okay?"

Toshinori smiled softly when you nodded, kissing your cheeks as he unraveled some of his personal bandages, "I'm sorry I raised my voice at you...it just scared me when I saw you clutching the glass."

You looked anywhere but at him, "I didn't...finish cleaning, or the dishes, or laundry-"

He grabbed your face, whispering sweetly as he made you look into his eyes, "I don't care, okay? We'll figure out the dishes once I clean up the glass, and I'll help you with the laundry." You were quick to protest, holding your hands still as he wound the fabric around your fingers. Ignoring your protests was routine for Toshinori, he didn't care how many times you wanted to shoulder all the house chores, it wasn't your responsibility. You both lived in the house, he could help clean no matter how busy he was.

"Please, Toshi..." The way you sounded so pathetic hurt him, and he would've crumbled to you if it was any other request. But he shook his head, securing the wrap at your wrist, "Sorry, love, not this one. Okay?"

"I'm not going to make you do everything around here while I relax. I live here and make messes, too. Both of us can do the chores." He whispered, placing his head to yours. And he made you relax the rest of the day, though it made you anxious that he was cleaning and cooking. In your mind, he was angrily doing the job you'd failed to do effortlessly. You'd broken the plates and hadn't even swept the house, and now Toshinori was doing it because he had to show you that he could do it ten times better than you could.

So, you watched as he moved around the living room and kitchen, cooking and cleaning at the same time. Why hadn't you thought to do both things at once? You wouldn't have gotten behind if you'd managed to multitask well enough. Tears kept streaming down your cheeks and you just couldn't take your eyes off him. Every movement looked angry, each twitch of his muscles was another statement he held back from throwing at you.

"Here, babe." Toshinori handed you a plate of food, once more kissing your head and wiping away the tears, "It's okay, try to relax. You've been busy all day."

"So have you..." You mumbled, staring at the food on the plate.

He chuckled, "I'm a UA graduate, darling. If I can't handle this much, then how do I hope to be the top hero?"

The food was delicious, everything he made was amazing. You put the plate on the coffee table and crawled across the couch to lay over his lap.

"You're not him..."

Toshinori didn't understand what you said, much less why you kept repeating it. Maybe you were trying to calm yourself, or maybe it was simply that you needed to remind yourself that Toshinori wasn't your ex, that he wouldn't do the awful things your ex had done. There was no danger in simply existing in the living area without cleaning.

"I'm not, my love. I'm me...you know me." He chuckled lightly, petting your hair.

#anime #manga #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #x reader #my hero academia toshinori #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #toshinori yagi #toshinori yagi x reader #all might x reader #all might #yagi toshinori #fanfiction #fanfics

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sirowsky-stories · 1 year

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Collision

Part 5

Description: Pero knows what he needs to do, but knowing it doesn't help when he can't convince himself to leave while he's so confused about his own feelings.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, conspiracy, cursing, angst, use of the word hackers, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 5700 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is conversation heavy. And the next one will feature a small timegap to move things along a little.

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It takes two hours to set up the computer system and connect it to the safehouse’s secure network, but once it’s done, Will goes straight to work. True to his word, he’s not here for a vacation. Rather, he seems intent on unraveling this mystery completely, starkly offended that the people behind it have managed to sneak past his defenses. Pero helps him get everything ready, but he can’t help with the search, so once the other man goes to work, he returns downstairs. Where Gillian’s waiting.

She’s leaning against the wall of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, but when he comes down the stairs, she pushes off the exposed wood and crosses her arms over her waist.

“Who are you really?” she demands, clearly jarred by Will’s earlier comment.

He’s been waiting for this. Her natural inclination to help and care for others have kept her from prodding, and she’s seen how protective and tender he’s been towards Niki from the beginning of this mess, which has probably left her feeling largely at ease with him. But now, when there’s another source of information, when she’s no longer alone with him and technically at his mercy, she’s seemingly decided that the answers which didn’t feel important enough to ask for before, have since become necessary.

“Why don’t we take a seat. I’m gonna need some coffee for this,” he suggests, and then moves into the kitchen to start making the brew.

He can hear that she follows and sits down by the breakfast table section of the kitchen island behind him, so he starts talking while he works.

“In my late teens, I discovered that going through school being bullied or avoided by every kid I’d ever been around, had resulted in an exceptional ability to read people. I could tell from observing someone for just brief moments at a time, not just what type of character they were, but whether they had secrets, what kinds of fears plagued them, what their favorite things were, and so on. And I was bitter and angry enough, even back then, that I saw no reason to use that skill for anything helpful. So, I started my own little criminal empire instead.”

He turns around and leans against the counter once the coffee machine has started working, and when he meets her eyes, she looks only curious. Through her work, she’s had to learn to listen to people and decipher the truthfulness of what she hears, while remaining as neutral as possible herself. He knows that she’s not gonna interrupt him, and that she’ll likely only asks questions if there’s something in his story that she doesn’t understand.

“Like with most enterprises, criminal or otherwise, I started small,” he continues. “I tricked or blackmailed people out of things that were precious to them for one reason or another. Mostly money, because it was useful to me, but also because in this country that seems to be what everyone holds most dear, even those who don’t seem like they do. And in the beginning, each successful scam was such a victory that I soon started thinking about bigger things. But I also understood from the start that if I was ever gonna have a chance to stay alive in the criminal world, I’d need an alias. So, I waited until I’d managed to create a completely separate person who could take the blame for all the stealing, before I went after my first big target.”

“What do you mean by a separate person?” she asks, when he pauses to move one of the stools to the other side of the island, so that he can sit opposite her.

“Another identity, but a ghost. Someone known only by name and voice, never seen, and entirely untraceable, both in person and online. He had no history and no future, he was just a voice on the phone, making demands. I called that ghost Mr. Hood, because I only ever stole money from those who could afford it, and I never took more than a small percentage of what they really had. And if it was an item I took, it was never expensive paintings or jewelry. Instead, I would trick people out of their comfort items. Things with sentimental value, as a way of punishing them for their cruelty.”

“Their cruelty?”

“Yes. I specifically targeted people who were secretly abusive or criminal, or just mean motherfuckers who trampled all over everyone around them just because they could. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that what I did was good, but I would never have taken from someone who was just going through life doing the best they could with as much humility and compassion as they could spare, no matter how much money they had. I wanted the crooks. I wanted to punish people for their indifference and lack of appreciation for their own fortunes, not to mention the people they crushed along the way.”

He stops himself there, because he’s getting riled up thinking about this. There are so many faces in his head. People who could’ve helped so many with their riches or their influence, but instead always did the opposite. The faces of his worst bullies from childhood flood his mind, and he closes his eyes against the painful memories. The beatings and the degradation. The constant public humiliation. If just one person had told them to stop-…

“So, basically an evil Robin Hood,” Gillian suggests, interrupting his downward spiral and drawing him back to the present.

He takes a calming breath, allowing her steady voice to chase away the sounds of his own bones breaking, etched into his memory bank forever.

“Maybe not evil,” he quietly counters, not at all sure if that’s true. “But definitely dark.”

“Hm. Well, given this place, I guess you were successful?” she ponders, and he nods.

“Very. There are way too many needlessly cruel people in the world.”

“You ever kill anyone?” she wonders, but the question isn’t accusatory.

“Yes. When you take on people associated with drug cartels and mafia’s, you kinda have to be ready to spill blood to protect yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… You stole money from drug cartels?” she asks with a touch of disbelief, and when he nods again, her eyebrows hit the roof. “That’s ballsy…”

“Not really. Those were the easiest paydays, because my victims had nowhere to turn. With the average rich scumbag there was always the risk that they’d involve law enforcement, which I could handle since my alias was airtight and my own identity was never at risk, but it would also mean having to abandon the mark. Whereas with cartel members, if I could find a good enough fear or damaging enough secret, I could pin a person to a wall from which they had no escape in any direction. And best of all, who’s gonna believe that person when they try to explain to their boss that they were blackmailed into stealing the money, rather than pocketing it themselves?”

“Shit. You really did have your own little empire,” she concludes, leaning back in her seat with a mildly impressed look in her eyes.

“I’m not proud of it,” he admits, before getting up and turning his back to her while he pours himself a generous cup of the now finished beverage.

“Why?” she challenges. “What happened that made you change tracks and decide to become a factory worker?”

He doesn’t remember exactly when it had happened. When he’d decided that he was done with it, but he knows the reasoning behind it. It hadn’t been obvious to him even as he’d walked away from Mr. Hood and everything he’d built. Not until years later had the reasoning finally become clear to him. But neither then nor now does he know when that seed had first been planted in his mind.

“My own reflection,” he answers, staring down into the dark liquid, looking for a strength that it can’t give him. “Over time… seeing myself in the mirror got increasingly unpleasant. And it took me a long time to understand why, but I know now that it was because of how cold and dead my eyes had become. I looked at myself and I saw someone worse than the people who had hurt me, and even though I didn’t realize it right away, it scared me so much that I couldn’t keep going.”

It’s never made him feel stupid or less of a man to admit to himself that he went too far. But it does still make him feel guilty, which is why he won’t meet her eyes to find out what she’s thinking about him right now. Part of him has always wanted to tell Niki, but then, that would’ve meant changing the dynamic of their relationship, and he’s been too scared of losing the comforting simplicity between them, to dare take that step.

“And how does William fit into all this?” Gillian finally asks, and her lack of comments or further questions about his decision to walk away, gives Pero the confidence to look up at her again.

She still just looks curious. But this is a question that he can’t answer.

“You’ll have to ask him about that. It’s not my story to tell.”

With that, he decides that their conversation is over. For now, anyway. Niki’s been alone for at least half an hour already, and while she should be out of danger, he doesn’t feel good about leaving her without supervision for very long. There’s still a risk of delayed complications or other problems emerging. He takes his coffee and heads back to the bedroom, hearing no objections from the nurse, so he assumes that she’s satisfied with his answers for the time being.

To his surprise, Niki’s awake again when he steps in, so he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy. The room is so softly lit by how the daylight is filtered through the thick and richly green vegetation outside the windows, that she looks almost as though some masterful artist had painted her into existence.

“Hey. How are you?” he asks while approaching the bed.

“Still thirsty,” she replies, so he reaches for the glass of water with the straw, still standing on a tray on top of one of the monitors beside the bed.

He raises the backrest once again, and she drinks in slow but long gulps this time, until the glass is completely empty.

“More?” he asks, but she shakes her head.

“I’m good for now. Thank you.”

He sets the glass down and then takes a seat in the chair, leaving her sitting upright for a while to let the water settle into her stomach.

“What’s happened?” she asks after a minute, and he realizes that he’s taken her hand and that he’s fighting strong emotions that are trying to claw through his chest.

It’s a simple question, but he struggles to find an answer. Too much has happened, but not really around them, just inside of him. And how is he supposed to explain that when he doesn’t even understand it himself? He runs a hand over his face in frustration. He wishes that he could hug her. That he could crawl into that bed with her and beg her to hold him, cradle him until he falls asleep, because he’s so tired.

It’s only been two days, but he’s already exhausted in mind, spirit and body. How is he supposed to protect her when he can’t even stomach two fucking days of stress without crumbling into a nervous pile of uselessness?

“Pero? Talk to me.”

Her voice is soft, but there’s fear in it, and he hates hearing that.

“Someone I know showed up here this morning,” he says, bottling up his emotions and forcing himself to stay on track. To be useful. “His name’s William and he’s the one who helped me find out who’s after you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she counters, squeezing his hand to urge him to look at her, clearly seeing right through his attempt to be stoic.

He notices that her grip is getting strong again. She’s a mechanic, her hands have been calloused and sure for as long as he’s known her. Accustomed and comfortable working with metal tools and tightly wound nuts and bolts. And when he meets her eyes, he finds them every bit as piercing but gentle as they’ve always been when directed at him.

“I don’t know what to do…” he confesses, and all at once, the emotions he just buried are overpowering him again, even worse this time.

He pulls free of her hand, even though all he wants is to hold it tighter, and drops forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his open hands while he fights against desperate sobs, only just managing to hold them back.

“I’m such a fucked up person, I don’t even have friends to ask for help! We’ve got an entire government and whole other country hunting us and the best I can do is run and hide because all I’ve got is myself,” he rambles, shaking his head between the fingers he’s digging into his scalp.

“Pero-…” she tries, but he cuts her off.

“Don’t get attached, don’t start caring, don’t let people manipulate you,” he rants, reciting the rules he’s lived by as if they’re some magical shield that’ll protect him against the pain which courses through him with each breath. “I’ve spent my whole life watching people say how much they love their friends and partners, only to use and manipulate and lie to them all the time! All the fucking time! Love isn’t real, that’s what I always believed. Because how could it be when no one… no one I ever met or observed, actually seemed to care that much about their supposed loved ones? So, why make friends when I know that they’ll only hurt me down the line? Why give a shit when no one else does?”

He pauses to wipe the tears from his eyes before they can fall. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, except for the pain. Which he also doesn’t know the real source of.

“I don’t know how people do it… how they can live so falsely and act so happy. I mean, I can’t say if I’ve ever been happy. I don’t think so. But at least I’ve never strung anyone along with promises of a great future together, only to turn around and shit on them. If that’s happiness then I don’t want it.”

He falls silent then, with a final big sigh, and leans back in his chair with his head still hanging low against his chest. Feeling defeated by the entire world, somehow.

“What do you want?” Niki asks then, and she sounds so careful.

As if the question alone has the power to break him. And given that he’s been thinking about this very thing all morning, without coming up with any answers, it doesn’t seem impossible that it might. Once again he tries to consider it. To put his life into perspective and search for the things that matter to him, along with the things that don’t. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out, but it damned well is.

“I’ve been trying to work that out, but honestly… I still don’t know,” he admits, but it’s not good enough.

She deserves more effort than that, so he keeps talking, hoping that if he just spews out enough words, eventually the right ones will just fall out and make everything okay.

“I want you to live and be free, and I want the baby to live. I know that much. I’m just not sure why. What it means to me, you, or the baby. I don’t know if it means what you might want it to. Or if you even want me like that. We never talked about it, because it wasn’t supposed to happen, we weren’t supposed to be that to each other, but now everything’s upside down and because we never talked, we don’t know this shit, or anything about each other, and it’s all such a god damned mess.”

The words run out, so he just sits there, staring at his own hands, too cowardly to meet her gaze and find out what she thinks about what he’s saying. Not because he worries that she might not like what she hears, but because he worries that she’ll look indifferent. That he doesn’t matter to her at all. He’s never been concerned about her opinion of him before, since their relationship has never required her to like him, only trust him. Which she has.

But everything really is different now. And maybe he is too.

“Yo-…” she starts, but her voice seems to break under heavy emotions, and he can’t stop himself from looking up at her.

She looks almost heartbroken, and it sends daggers through him.

“You want the baby to live?” she continues, and she sounds so incredulous.

As though she can’t imagine that he would actually want that. Which would mean that her heartbreak is rooted in hope rather than fear. That she wants to believe that he could love their child at least, if not her.

“Yes, but…” he tries, and sees her breath hitch when he doesn’t continue.

“But, what?” she prompts, and her voice is shaking now.

“But…” he tries again, knowing what he needs to say, but afraid of what she’ll think. “Fuck. Look, I’m not a good person, I think a part of you knows that. And even though I’d like to think that I could be a worthwhile dad, I really don’t think I can.”

Never before has he worried or even cared about being judged by others. The opinions of liars and betrayers and abusers have never mattered to him, and that’s what everyone around him has always looked like to his eyes. Nikita is an exception, but only because he’s chosen not to look too closely at her. He’s never observed her. Never tried to know her, because if he’d found her to be like the rest, that would’ve ruined his ability to look at her as someone desirable.

He knows now that she has lied for large portions of her life, although as far as he’s aware, only out of patriotism and necessity, which he can accept. But he still doesn’t know what else she is or has done. If she’s like the rest overall. And he isn’t sure that he wants to know. But more than that, what plagues him is the knowledge that he’s no better than anyone of them. Equally unworthy of love since he’s never once offered his to anyone.

“So, in other words, you want me to have the baby. Alone?” she counters, and she sounds upset now, so he thinks carefully before he answers.

“I just want you to have the option. To not be forced in any direction, by anyone or for any reason, but least of all by me, because I’m not… I can’t be trusted with something like this.”

“And what if you’re the only reason that I want to make that choice at all?” she ponders, still sounding upset, but also sad.

Her words truly stun him, though. He sits frozen for a while, just staring dumbly at her, before he finds his voice.

“But… I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe, but not to me. I might not know anything about you, but I know that you’ve never treated me like a piece of meat. I know that I’ve never had to fear that you’d be offensive for no reason or pick a fight because you’ve had a bad day. You’ve always been kind to me. Even now, when that means putting your life on the line. Why would I not want to share this with you? You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.”

If that’s true, then she must’ve known only the worst of mankind, which he doesn’t quite believe. But he also wonders if her current circumstances could be tainting her perspective of him, subconsciously putting him in the place of a knight in shining armor, when he’s really as far from that as anyone could be.

“If I hadn’t thrown you out that evening, is that what you would’ve told me?” he challenges, and her expression shifts, from sadness to retrospection.

“That’s impossible to answer since it would depend entirely on what you would’ve said. If all this hadn’t happened, would you even have let me talk to you again after that evening?”

Crap. He hangs his head again, because she’s right. He probably wouldn’t have given her the light of day. More likely, he would’ve avoided her at all costs, hoping to not have to deal with the baby at all. And if that was true then, then it still is now. Just hidden behind the fear of Niki dying for no fucking reason. Except…

“…that’s not right either…” he mumbles, finishing the thought out loud.

“What’s not right?” she asks, understandably confused since she hasn’t heard his internal reasoning.

He looks up at her once more, somehow feeling like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Christ, she really is beautiful.

“I’m terrified of losing you,” he confesses, and sees her features instantly soften. “Not because of any need to right my wrongs against you or because I just don’t wanna lose the closest thing I have to a friend. I’m terrified because I need you. Because the thought of having to bury yo-…”

Even finishing that sentence is too painful. The words are strangled in the depths of his throat while the unwanted image of a headstone and freshly closed grave flashes before his eyes. Disturbed by the sight, he jolts to his feet and begins pacing, alternating between crossing his arms and restlessly fiddling with his shirt, or scratching his neck or running a hand through his hair, all while rambling uncontrollably.

“I never let myself go there, because no one ever means it, it’s always just empty words, so why would I be any different? Me, the guy who’s actively avoided all attachments all my life, becoming a criminal and a thief and a god damned vigilante because I just can’t trust people. So, why didn’t I see it from the start? Why the fuck didn’t I see it?! I trusted you. From day one, I trusted you. How could I not see that it was because I wanted it to mean something? Because I wanted you to be the exception… the one that might say it and mean it. Even to me.”

He stops moving. He’s right at the foot of her bed. Nikita Morse. The woman he doesn’t want to live without. The woman he dares to care about, even though he doesn’t know her. The only person in the world… that he loves. Turning slowly, he meets her gaze, and there are tears running her cheeks. Just like there had been that night, when she’d fled the anger that she had never deserved, but which she’d shouldered so gracefully all the same.

“I will,” she whispers. “When this is over, I’ll say it… and if you believe me, you say it back. Deal?”

Stepping around the foot of the bed, he goes to her side and leans over to kiss her instead of making some bland verbal promise. He’s never just kissed her before. Only while having sex, only as a gesture of passion, never to express care or affection. This feels different. Like a spark moving from his lips into his blood, where it can course through him endlessly. It feels wonderful. Until he remembers that this might not be over for a very long time, and that it might very well end with their deaths.

“You hungry?” he asks, trying to distract himself and noticing that it’s getting close to lunchtime.

His voice is thick with emotions much deeper than anything he’s ever felt, but it’s strangely not as crippling as fear or as paralyzing as lost hope. Instead, it feels empowering. Suddenly the idea that an entire government is on their tails seems less like an insurmountable obstacle and more like a climbing challenge. How the fuck does that happen?

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ll be constantly hungry for weeks to come yet,” she tries to joke to get the weight of the world off her chest, while wiping her tears away.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can make for you,” he says, gently squeezing her lower arm before he leaves, hoping she’ll take it as a comforting gesture.

Returning to the kitchen, he finds Gillian in the process of finishing a chicken soup.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he offers when she looks up from stirring the pot.

“I know, but between you protecting us and keeping an eye on Nikita, and William doing his part researching the bad guys, I kinda ran out of ways to be useful.”

“Well, don’t worry, pretty soon you’re gonna be wishing you had less to do,” Pero cautions, and she stops stirring.

“What do you mean?”

She’s been around him long enough now to know that when he warns her about something, it’s generally life and death level serious.

“We can’t just sit here and wait for someone to find us. Eventually we’ll run out of food, but I suspect we’ll go crazy before that.”

“You’re leaving?” she asks, and she doesn’t sound happy about the prospect.

“We need allies. Eyes and ears outside of this place, people that can warn us if our enemy is approaching. And we can’t find any by sitting around out here,” he explains.

He can see that she realizes the truth of what he’s saying, but she seems worried about the prospect of not having him around. She takes the pot off the plate and turns off the stove before turning to face him, and by then there are tears in her eyes, which surprises him.

“You’re the only here that won’t crack under the threat of death. You can’t leave,” she pleads, but her words confuse him.

“Gillian… you’re every bit as tough as I am.”

“No,” she shakes her head firmly. “I’m not even close. I’ve been fraying at the seams ever since the hospital, I just never stopped long enough to let myself think about it. Yeah, I’m a trauma nurse and I’ve seen some bad shit in the few years I’ve been doing it, but putting myself in between patients and bullets… actually preparing to gas people to death… No. I’m not cut out for any of this.”

She’s about ready to curl into a ball and give up. He can see that in her eyes and the sudden tremors in her hands, and he doesn’t blame her one bit. Niki’s doing good, so technically there’s no need for her to stay, and he was never going to force her to, no matter what.

“Then take the truck and go back to town,” he repeats himself from the first night.

She had rejected the idea then, but he can see that it hits her differently now. That she wants to go. But she also knows herself. The tears have begun to fall, and she swipes at them with frustration as she starts rummaging through cupboards in search of a good bowl to serve the soup in. It isn’t pride or even duty that keeps her from taking him up on it. Just humanity. Just a stark unwillingness to leave them all and save herself, because that guilt would be worse than anything to her.

But the fear is still there regardless, eating away at her, leaving her nervous and angry, stealing her joy and positivity, forcing her mind into dark places that only serve to increase her anxiousness. He might not have ever wanted or sought friendship, but he knows what it looks like. And for the most part, it doesn’t seem to matter whether someone’s intentions are genuine or not, the gestures of comfort usually appear to be enough.

So, since he feels responsible for Gillian’s situation, he steps closer to her and stops her nearly frantic search, by pulling her into a hug. She’s not even shocked by it. Too desperate for the comfort it brings, she instantly abandons her efforts and lets him hold her while she allows herself to fall apart for a few moments.

He’s struck by how small she feels when she curls in on herself between his arms, trembling and sniveling. She’s such an impressive person. By his standards, at least. It seems contradictory that she should be so small when she carries such enormous things within her. But true to her character, she only allows herself a brief respite. Pulling away and resuming her task after no more than a minute.

He reaches into the correct cupboard and takes out a perfect sized bowl for a portion of soup, which he hands to her without a word. She’s looked through that cupboard in her search, but was too overwhelmed to absorb anything she saw, which is why she now feels foolish. He doesn’t tell her not to, because that won’t help. Instead, he turns to leave, giving her space to feel whatever she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says before he steps out of her view, and he stops and turns halfway to look at her.

“I owe you everything, Gillian. Don’t ever forget that I’m just a weapon. It’s you who are the hero of this story,” he says, and then turns away and heads upstairs.

The computer system takes up the entire desk, and huddled in between the screens, cables and fan-assisted operating systems and hard drives, is a deeply concentrating William. Pero has seen him work before, so the image isn’t unfamiliar to him, but the worried crease in the veteran’s forehead is something new. Which says something about how much of a mess they’re really in.

“Any updates?”

Unlike many other computer experts, Will’s time in the military has left him incapable of getting so immersed in the digital world that he loses touch with the reality around him, so it’s actually really hard to sneak up on him. He doesn’t flinch or react to Pero’s voice at all, because he’s already heard him coming up the stairs.

“Yeah, we’re definitely dealing with China. But not government. It looks more like some private radical with enough funds to finance a small war.”

“Great,” Tovar sighs and sinks into a reading chair. “That makes this so much easier.”

The sarcasm is partially lost in the fatigue, and he runs a hand over his face while he tries to think through how this information might change his course of action going forwards.

“At least it’s not another fucking country on our tails,” Garin points out, and he’s right, that would’ve been worse.

“True. But if it had been, we would’ve been able to work out the players, whereas with a private force, there’s no telling who or how many people stand between us and freedom.”

“Now you’re being offensive,” Will tuts. “I’ll have that information by the end of the day.”

“Seriously? These jackasses are dumb enough to leave a digital trail?”

“Not an obvious one, no. But they’re using a cleverly concealed chatroom, masquerading as a social media DM thread, to communicate, and once I break the encryption, we’ll know everything they’re doing. I should even be able to backtrace their locations and set up a real-time tracking system. It’s our homegrown jackasses that are proving to be a bigger issue.”

“How come?”

“Well… I suspect it’s the abundance of resources. Satellites and drone surveillance, probably an entire farm of hackers all focusing their efforts on us, not to mention thousands of boots on the ground to run down all leads and eliminate false trails.”

“Right,” Pero grumbles, already feeling defeated.

“Hey,” William calls his attention, looking up from the screens and meeting his eyes as he continues. “Don’t give up yet. We might not have an army, but that doesn’t mean we’re not dangerous. They’re already scared of us, and we can use that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just also know that this isn’t gonna end without bloodshed, one way or another.”

“Probably not. So, what’s your plan? Cause I know you’re cooking up something, your head’s far too big to not have turned and looked all this over a dozen times already.”

“More like a hundred,” Pero corrects. “But I keep coming back to one inescapable fact: we need better numbers. Allies.”

“Okay, so how are you gonna find some?”

“Doing what I always do. I’m gonna make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Will doesn’t look particularly happy about that, but then, he’s been at the receiving end of that offer, and it didn’t work out so well for him.

“Don’t you mean threaten them?” he says quietly, and while there’s a hint of defiance in his eyes, he looks mostly scared. “Cause I can promise you, that’s how it feels.”

But Tovar isn’t offended or rattled by that statement. The veteran is probably correct, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d gotten himself into the shit that had followed, after Pero’s threat.

“Yeah, that’s the point. If you hadn’t been a selfish bastard who cared more about the one percent of your money that I took, your fiancé would’ve been alive today,” he coldly replies, because he’s tired of Will’s endless attempts to make him feel guilty about their past. “And the really sad part about all this is that I already know I’m not gonna have any trouble finding skeletons I can use under the rocks that our intended assassins are sitting on, because that’s the fucking norm. But hey, why don’t I ask them nicely? Maybe they’ll agree not to kill us out of the goodness of their hearts.”

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Part 6

Thank you for reading, and remember: I have no taglist anymore. Follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications for updates on my writing :)

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x original female character #pero tovar x ofc #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories #pedrostories

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rose-tinted-nostalgia · 1 year

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my goal in life is to finally be so organized that organizing doesn’t require a forty-five step process. every single project involves trashing my goddamn house, unraveling junk drawers and closets overflowing with unpacked boxes, finding items spread across multiple rooms, and tucked into corners I haven’t even been in, folded into sock drawers and bathroom cabinets and hall closets and garages and under the bed and behind the desk, and how the fuck do I have so many spaces to shove things into. I can’t recall a time where I’ve ever been fully unpacked, fully without doom piles and more junk drawers than I can count on both hands, and more trash shoved into said drawers than I can even comprehend, and more dirty laundry than I’ll ever do. it’s suffocating, and I ignore it quite successfully, but the moment I try to organize anything or put something new away or clean even a single surface in my room, the messy reality of it all just comes crashing into view, and it wrecks me. I suddenly feel tight in my own skin, and I have to dump out every messy drawer, sweep out every hidden thing from every corner I can’t see, and then suddenly I have a mess so big, I sit frozen on the floor paralyzed my inability to tackle it until I get the motivation to finish it or I shove it all back into an invisible space once more. It’s miserable, and I just want to be clean and organized and empty for once. the point of this story is, I’m homeschooling my son this year (because fuck Florida Public education), and I bought him a shit ton of school supplies and now my entire kitchen, living room, bedroom and his bedroom is just school supply vomit because I decided to dump out all his current stuff because it was a shit show full of broken, half empty, trash, and I couldn’t possibly add anything to the drawers because there’s no fucking space, and then I realized he had stuff missing, and I had to go through boxes in two closets and several bedroom drawers to find it and add it to the piles because I could not possibly decide how to organize anything without all of it at my disposal, and then I had to wipe everything down because somehow it was dusty as hell, and I had so much momentum for two hours, and now the shaken espresso has settled so uncomfortably into my stomach that I think I’m gonna be sick, and the lack of sleep has punched me straight in the eyes, and I’m paralyzed by the enormous mess staring back at me, and I’m crashing on the couch, venting on tumblr because it’s the only thing I can possibly do to avoid the task I no longer have the motivation to finish, and if my house wasn’t so goddamn disorganized to begin with, this wouldn’t even be happening like it happens every other month when I try to be a functioning human being.

#in case you didn’t believe me #this isn’t even half of it there’s a whole other side of the kitchen and two other rooms where the supplies are staring at me #adhd

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hollandsangel · 2 years

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unscripted | tom holland

finally responding to this ask!! it got a bit longer than i expected so i just turned it into it’s own little fic :)

summary: you try to stomp out your nerves, tom helps, but he also makes them worse

warnings: she’s soft and filled to the brim with roommate! holland + co, a little angsty

wc: 999

gif by @venomsilk !

“i’m really nervous.” your voice is weaker than you had wanted it to be, and you can only imagine your gaze is just as unsteady, peering over the edge of the script you hold.

“why? you’ve been mumbling your lines to yourself all week.” harrison groans, letting his head fall back against the sofa with a look you know is just meant to tease, to help you relax.

“because haz, this is my first big role, and i don’t want to mess it up.” grace pulls the pillow out from under her back and tosses it in his face when he groans again.

“that was not very unsupportive of you,”she giggles and harrison tries to dodge the hollow threat but isn’t successful. you snicker softly.

“cut it out you two,” tuwain scolds the pair.

once harrison and grace have settled down, you try again “do i have to?” you drop your arm against your thigh and the script in your hand brushes over your skin where the material of your shorts ends.

“yes!” it seems like the three of your friends in front of you sing out in sync, and you try your best to shoot tom a pleading look. he simply flashes you a supportive grin in return.

“i hate you all.” you don’t even try to supress the hopeless groan that your words tumble out in, flicking the script back up right when the door opens, “thank god.” you let out in a faint whisper.

“did you start without me?” harry asks from the kitchen, and you focus on the sound of a paper bag crumpling as he pulls takeout boxes from it.

“without us” sam corrects as he kicks the door closed behind him.

“no, she’s still trying to convince us to not make her do it.” tuwain folds his arms over his chest and you can feel his stare burning through the back of your head.

“guys,” you drag out the word for an impossibly long time, hoping maybe sam will give you at least an ounce of sympathy. he doesn’t though, of course, just shakes his head and helps his twin organzie the contents of the take out bags on the counter.

“c’mon, y/n, if you can’t practice your lines in front of us, your best friends, how nervous do you think you’ll be on set?” as you always have, you hate when harrison is right.

the look of defeat shrouding your face must be wickedly obvious, because tom offers a soft glance, one that’s questioning and supportive even if he doesn’t say anything.

“i am nervous, haz,” and maybe it wasn’t the politest thing, to ignore that look, the one that metaphorically held out a hand to you, but it was so hard to make eye contact, you truly felt as though you would unravel if you did. “this is my first big role and i don’t wanna mess anything up.”

they’re all looking at you now, and if you hadn’t wanted to shrink into yourself before, you definitely do now, “you’re gonna be great y/n/n, you always are, no matter the project.” he’s forcing you, forcing you to meet his honeyed eyes and freckled nose and reddened lips. you have the slightest inkinling that if you kissed him, he’d taste like the lip balm you shoved into his stocking over christmas.

“you’re obligated to say that, tom,” you really do try not to sigh when you say it, but the small breath passes your lips despite your efforts.

tom frowns and glances over to harry, who is less than helpful and only offers tight lipped, half smile and lift of his brows, “i’m really not, and if anyone’s gonna give you honest acting advice, it’s going to be me. especially considering the amount of time you’ve told me to get my act together and critiqued my performance for the better, so do your worst.” he folds his arms over hsi chest, and the buldge of his biceps against him black t shirt is mildly distracting.

you gnaw on the inside of your cheek and curl the stack of papers between your fists, looking at him again before reluctantly unfurling the sheets and emptying your lungs of the big breath you’d been holding in, starting to read your lines.

the moment you let yourself get into character, everyone shuts up, seemingly encapsulated by your ability to portray such profound emotion so easily.

in the midst of your heartfelt monologue, you find yourself glancing up in search of tom. he’s leaning forward on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth.

you’re searching for a reaction as you continue to ramble on, your character explaining just how heartbroken their love interest has left them, but tom doesn’t budge, just states at you intently.

you figure that right now, you are less one character pouring your heart out to another, but yourself, speaking to tom.

your eyes well up with tears, as is mentioned in your script, but it goes deeper than that. it stumbles over make believe into reality. to clenching your jaw in a tight smile every time tom brings a girl to the house, to your breath hitching with every hug he pulls you into, to longing glances across the living room that are only shared between you and him.

you pry yourself away, reaching up to wipe your cheek daintily, hearing your director in the back of your head to be mindful of subtle movements.

tom sits up and clears his throat, looking away from you just as you had him.

“y/n” grace begins, “that was incredible, truly, you’re amazing.”

the rest of your friends agree, and you swear you see harry swipe a tear away.

this makes you feel a bit better, although you’re still a sceptical about your acting abilities, considering that when you’re looking at tom, none of it is an act.

tags! @randomlimelightxxx @baby-bearie @averysbestyears @would-you-tell-me-who-you-are @my-fangirling-outlet @hiya-its-amber @theduckgoesquack @coffearabica @hllandvibbes @21burritoseavey @starksview @kayasholland @bxmaaa @ddejavvu @belovedholland @lolalee24 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah

#tom #tommy boy #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #roommate!tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

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bcdwhcre · 4 years

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“Territory,” Levi x Reader

Summary: Levi overhears the cadets confessing their feelings for you so he decides to show them that you’re his.

Warnings: ⚠️ smut zoneeee ⚠️

Levi x Fem!Reader

This was requested btwwww

It was the weekend, meaning the scouts were off of work until another expedition comes along so you had decided to stay inside the kitchen, teaching yourself how to bake simple desserts like cookies or brownies to occupy your mind.

The hobby had suited you, made you forget about the overbearing stress you would deal with during the week of training or going outside the walls which was always a overwhelming time.

Most of the guys sat inside the mess hall, sitting down and playing random games while talking to each other about probably the most random stuff, anything that came to their mind.

You had walked out of the kitchen, being nice enough to set the cookies down on the table to have them do a taste test for you, considering Levi probably wouldn’t.

“I hope this recipe turned out a little better than the last.” You laughed at the memory of last week trying to bake and the boys cringed at how hard it was to chew.

Eren was the first one to quickly reach over and eat it before the rest of them followed, their eyes lighting up and all of them looking up at you in awe.

“These are so much better.” Eren hummed to himself, grabbing another one and you rolled your eyes, keeping the plate there.

“Thank you for being my taste testers. I’ll give you some brownies later.” You smiled, turning back and going inside the kitchen to somewhat clean up the mess you made.

After you left, the boys all looked at each other while eating the cookies. They stayed quiet until you were gone out of sight and Jean was the first one to speak up about his big crush on you.

“I doubt you’ll have a chance, Jean. She’ll probably be better off with someone like me.” Eren was being cocky, nudging Jean’s side with his elbow and he gave him a dirty look.

“I don’t think she would want a Titan shifter.” He scoffed under his breath and Eren had shoved his friend playfully.

“Do we all have a crush on her?” Armin spoke, his cheeks turning a light shade of red and everyone looked at each other.

All of them nodded their heads then quickly went into a discussion on who you would like better, who you would have a better chance being with but little did they know you had a secret little fling going on with your Captain behind closed doors. The secret being Levi’s idea because he didn’t want to cause any issues.

Levi had actually heard the argument from down the hall as he walked down to go do some work but once he heard your name get brought up, he froze in his spot, listening to the boys argue about their crush on you and continue talking about which guy had a better chance.

A sense of jealousy had washed over him, hearing them all talk about you without you being there also made him a bit angry. He finally got sick of listening to them bicker and walked into the room, all boys freezing and looking at Levi’s cold stare.

“All of you, outside. I don’t want to see you back in here until I say you’re done training.” He ordered them, watching them all scatter without a second thought and rush outside.

He moved his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose and looked down at the plate of cookies that he knew you made. He decided to move his feet towards the kitchen, opening the door up and seeing you near the sink.

“When you’re done, can you come to my office.” He asked, making you turn to meet his gaze and you simply nodded.

“For what?” You turned off the sink, drying off your hands and walked to where he stood by the door.

“Just need some help with something.” He mumbled, tilting your chin up and stared down at you, a evil little plan popping right inside his head as he tried to hide the smirk.

Your stomach had twisted into knots at how serious he looked, you couldn’t help but overthink about what he needed help with as you followed close behind him down the hallway until you both entered his office.

He closed the door behind you, being swift with locking it and went over to the window to see the guys outside training like he wanted them too, hearing their whines and complaints about doing so.

“What is it? Should I be worried?” You spoke first as he stayed silent, your body standing right behind his and placed your hand on his bicep.

“I missed you is all.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, his eyes moving down to meet yours and he lifted his hand up to caress your cheek, the soft contact made you melt right under his finger tips instantly.

“That’s all?” You teased, watching a small smile come across his lips and he shook his head.

“I don’t think you understand, I really missed you.” He said in a much lower tone, his hand sliding back to tangle in your hair and pulled your face closer to his.

Levi’s lips just barely brushed over yours, the dots now connecting in your head and you knew what he wanted and it made your heart pound inside your chest, you were sure he could hear how loud it was.

You were the one to close the gap, pressing your lips on his and he instantly backed you up until you were sitting on the edge of his desk, settling between your legs while his lips molded with yours.

The guys making noises outside the window had completely slipped your mind, it’s not like they could see you through the curtains and the thought of having to be more quiet than usual made you even more excited.

Levi had tugged on your hair, slipping his tongue in your mouth all while thinking about the small plan that had popped inside his head. He didn’t want to really out the secret hook ups you two were having the last few months but the way they had talked about you like you were a piece of meat, he was positive he wanted to show them who really owns you.

He wanted them to hear you moan his name and show them who really makes you feel good at the end of the day. Fuck the secrets, fuck everything. He’s just being the overpossesive jealous boyfriend that will make sure people know you’re off the market.

He wasn’t going to take it easy on you, of course he was going to pleasure you but he was going to make sure to over pleasure you to the point where your sounds will echo throughout this whole base. He was sure of it.

His hands had slipped down to your shirt, unbuttoning the plain white top and pushing it off your shoulders, throwing it to the ground while latching his teeth onto your bottom lip, pulling it back and letting it go as his eyes met yours.

He started to plant kisses down to your chest, his eyes burning into yours while his large hands slipped around and unclipped the bra you were wearing, watching it slide down your arms and onto the floor beneath your feet.

The butterflies swarming your stomach made you almost want to pass out, the way his eyes stared into yours, the intense yet satisfying eye contact he kept while his lips peppered kisses on your bare skin.

Soon he grew impatient with the tint underneath his tight pants only getting bigger as the material got tighter. He groaned, the sight of you instantly turned him on more than you could know and that was his weakness- he couldn’t control himself when he was around you.

He was addicted, he couldn’t get enough as he quickly tore off the rest of your clothing including his and his lips were back on yours in a much more heated kiss, not hesitating to slip his hand up between your legs, brushing his fingertips along your thigh, practically dancing on your skin before he had dipped his fingers to collect the wetness that pooled between your legs.

He knew he had a strong effect on you, it was proven every time he touched you and your cheeks started to grow hot while his fingertips slipped and rubbed between your folds, a soft hum leaving your lips and being muffled against his mouth which only caused him to further his actions.

A finger slid inside of you painfully slow, feeling the warmth and brushing it against your walls that almost made your back arch as your hand reached down to grip onto his wrist, feeling his smirk against your lips as his tongue swirled inside your mouth, the patience he had today to make you unravel multiple times, he wanted you completely weak.

A second finger slid in, continuing his slow pace and hearing the whine linger off your tongue made him pull back to keep his eyes on you, his hair hanging over his face and the smirk never leaving as his tongue ran over his lips, almost mesmerized over you.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear those pretty moans.” His free hand grabbed a hold of your chin, brushing his thumb along your jawline and started to move his fingers at a much better pace.

It had made your toes curl, your fingernails digging into his wrist and your lips parting open at the pleasure as you let a soft moan slip out of your mouth, your surroundings being thrown out of your brain as the only thing you saw was Levi over you.

He could hear the cadets outside, the evil smile on his face only getting wider as he kept finger fucking you into oblivion, his fingers working wonders between your legs to the point where your head had fell back and multiple profanities had left your lips, making him instantly pepper kisses on your throat.

All you saw was stars as your vision began to blur, the knot building up in the pit of your stomach had made your legs tremble and deep inside your head you had felt embarassed at how fast his fingers could make you cum all over them, he knew your body from head to toe and what could destroy you and make you unravel in minutes.

The entire encounter had lasted for almost an hour, the way Levi had made you cum around his fingers and then around his length while he was deep inside of you.

The boys stood outside, training until they had heard muffling noises near the window. Eren didn’t want to be nosey considering they knew that was Levi’s office window but soon your moans had became loud enough for all of the color to drain from their faces.

The way you continuously moaned Levi’s name, the way he had you almost screaming while on the brick of an orgasm, they grew quiet, their cheeks flushing deep red and that’s when they knew to stop speaking about you.

They knew better to get involved with you or even continue their desperate crush, they knew that they didn’t stand a chance now. You were Levi’s and it was as clear as day.

The embarrassment and the humiliation had spilled over their minds for a long time after that. Now when they look at your face or talk to you, all they can remember is the endless sounds of you saying Levi’s name.

It was traumatizing almost. Not even bothering to look their Captain in the eyes for the first few days, feeling as if they even looked your way that they would be outside doing exercises until their collapse.

Levi had chuckled at the reactions, it was exactly what he wanted. He wanted their eyes to stare at the love bites he left on your neck, he wanted to remember your voice saying his name, it made his ego that much more bigger.

Now he knew they learned their lesson when it comes to what’s his.

I didn’t really want to go into farrrrr detail with smut. I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging bc idk how much I’ll be able to post over the weekend🤧 quite a busy weekend for meeee.

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#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi Ackerman smut #levi Ackerman #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi smut #levi headcanons #levi fanfic #levi x reader #aot imagines #aot headcanons

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me-uglypretty · 3 years

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She loves you more

Pairing: Nicole Ryder x Reader

Summary: Nicole recounts moments of her life that made happy, and most of them revolving her finding true love.

Warning: 18+ (General), mention of cheating ex-husband, mostly fluff

Word count: 1548

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There’s the cliché of falling in love, completely and utterly—to the point of sacrificing years of dreams for someone because they became a vital reason of happiness. Where sun glares a heavy sight down on earth, this person, seems far brighter and that was enough of a reason to wake up just to see love there.

He was that to her. A dream in her hands, nimble like sparks that strength across her skin and to her cheeks—a smile, and she saw the delicately painted sky of his name. The kind of love that pours of life till it drains the meaning of something that was once seen as beauty itself. He was the happiness that filled her chest, pouring her own heart without care and blinded was she—to had never seen pass his awkward smiles, the way he dressed and how her dreams were nothing compared to his.

For Nicole, her ex-husband wasn’t a bad man. Mistakes were piled by both ends, that she could admit. He cheated too which was far worse than her. Request of space shouldn’t conclude with cheating when the relationship wasn’t over. Regardless of the bitter truth, he was still the father of her son and he was a good husband, sometimes.

But that was the past.

Questions surrounding happiness would had met different answers from each point of her life. The changes in her life mid-divorce had unravel and brought life to the robbed year of her dreams which was ignored for the sake of love. In simpler term—Nicole became happier than what she thought was the happiest meaning of life with him.

If she had to choose three core memories that amplifies happiness; first would be her son as always, second was winning her first directorial award, and third would be you. The answer was simple to her now than what she would have trouble saying six years ago.

And you—what a love, her friends had said and family too, they adored her second chance of love. Between you and her mother, she profusely admitted to liking you better than him. Nicole was there, behind the kitchen wall and listening to the exchanged, feeling her own heart resonate with the blush on your cheeks.

You weren’t there from the start, only appearing in her life after the divorce and the less than a minute of shared screen time for her movie.

But you—easily engulf her heart with a warming feeling like her heart was the most precious of life. You made her forget the ache of her failed marriage and years of life boxed into one act. You weren’t a dream, that she could admit than the schoolgirl crush she had on her ex—wasn’t something she felt with you or a feeling she could spur from the first meeting. You were simply you, and that was enough.

“I know, you know your worth more than any boys could ever tell you…or me,” you hand reach for her, fingers interlace as you press a gently kiss on the back of her hand. “But I won’t stop reminding you of how you deserve everything beautiful and I will do anything in my power to see you have that. And your smile too, god, I’m swooned.”

Your words painted her cheeks crimson and eyes flutter shut. A reminder knocks by the door of her heart from her mind of friends supporting each other and the hardly ignorable sound of her heart drumming in her ears.

“You’re too much,” she said while her shoulder nudge yours playfully. “I’ve never had a friend like you,” and the confession leaves your mouth gape, then few seconds later, “I mean, I have friends just not like you and…”

The spiral of a mess that leaves her mouth was marked as the worst moment of her life. Ascending from her disastrous marriage, the cheating man, people only remembering her from that one godforsaken scene and the moment shared with you—

“You’re my best friend too,” you admitted, and winked at her which earned a bashful smile from her.

Nicole shakes her head with a laugh, “You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

There’s just something so different and almost tangible when you sing her praise. It wakes an unknown feeling in her stomach, the various mix of nervousness, happiness and something deeper—an unexplainable feeling of needing to love you forever. And it settles to a warm smile on her face, then you smiled too, and she swears on her life to never look away from you.

You were the warmth in which she thought she found once before, but that feeling was replaceable like the heater of her new house. He was nothing compared to you and to even find a comparison was an insult on her own heart and you.

Anyone could say a word or two, sing a praise of her work and her beauty, but that doesn’t meet the promises you made of gifting her the world by the bare of your hands. There isn’t a moment spent with you, where she was treated as someone famous and adorned with superficial praises—because you weren’t like them.

“Seriously? Are you seeing this? Did you see this? People can’t be real. Is this journalism? Really?” your words mix of anger and confusion as you flipped the pages of the magazine. “This doesn’t make sense. Who wrote this? Let me find them and…”

Nicole didn’t understand at first. You were always passionate and that was almost abnormal to her because for so long, passion seems to only imply towards art and nothing more. The definition of passion always gravitates towards her work as an actor and director.

But to you—

“This isn’t okay,” you frowned, and she watch the expression on your face change again. Instead of the solemn look, a smile reaches your lips and soon, “Back together again?” you chuckled while pointing at the title.

You handed her the magazine with her face on the cover. Offhanded compliment was printed on the front page and several offensive comments directed to her. While flipping through the pages, her eyes caught the bold text on her apparent reunion with her ex-husband.

Her eyebrows furrowed and teeth nimble on her bottom lip as she lifts her head to meet your pleading eyes—begging for reassurance that the printed news wasn’t true and some possible way, she loved you—but she stared into your eyes, orbs of which greets her in the morning and wishes her a goodnight.

The same person who acts differently around her husband, more attentive of his behaviour around her and her son. While he stayed on his cursing rampage over his own tardiness. You weren’t like him.

“It’s never happening.”

The way your eyes light up was enough for her own heart to match the beat of yours. Subtle was her speciality as she moved closer to you, arms wrapping around your waist and her lips press a soft kiss on your cheek.

In the middle of a store, front of countless magazine spewing rubbish, she knew one thing—she was falling for you.

He was everything you wasn’t—and that was the exact reason why Nicole kissed you on that night. Under the moonlight of Los Angeles’s silent night, and by the gate of her house, her lips pressed against yours and hands move to her waist.

The same night you confessed your feelings for her.

Nicole likes you better.

Actually, no, she disagrees when she recalls the first time that she met you and it was simple, a hello and a smile that made her chest scream for more of something she doesn’t understand. It was enough, you were enough, and Nicole would proudly say that she loves you more than anything.

The way she and you came to be; a friend who was ready to battle world for the other and a friend silently wishing their exchanged shy glances meant more. And she loves how you could swiftly change her mood of a frown to a smile that carries on till the end of day. She loves the erupt feeling in her chest when you ask of her day and the conversation carrying so comfortably. She loves how you played with her son, always paying attention to his words and getting into character for his own entertainment.

She loves—everything that is you.

“If we’re married”

“We are married.”

You were smiling, the happy lines by your eyes evident as her own eyes glint of the joy present between you and her.

“You’re my wife?” you asked with a teasing smile, and she rolls her eyes in response while the smile on her own face doesn’t fade, but only grows wider. “So, you like like me?”

Nicole’s life had changed drastically since her directorial debut which doesn’t come closer to the birth of her son, but it means just as much. Then, you came along and everything fell into place perfectly. You were for her—and maybe, this is the first love that made her heart feel whole without the need of hiding herself away, because you truly loved her.

“I love you, okay?”

And she promised to love you till the end.

#nicole (marriage story) x reader #nicole barber #marriage story #Nicole barber x reader #nicole ryder x reader #nicole ryder imagine #nicole ryder x you

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tryingmybestpls · 3 years

Text

Golden

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader and Bucky go through different stages of the Reader’s pregnancy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, giving birth

Two Months

Y/N had been mulling over how she was going to tell him since she found out a week ago. She had thought her anxiousness and worries would have faded away after she saw those two little lines on the test. No, they had only increased ten-fold, only worsening when she went to her doctor and got an official test. Her stomach tossing and turning when the doctor told her that she's been pregnant for eight weeks. Y/N was now stuck with the most important and difficult part of this whole thing-telling Bucky Barnes that she was pregnant with his baby.

How does one tell an over one hundred year old super soldier that they're going to be a father? Getting a tiny Brooklyn Dodgers onesie made? Too cliché. Make some awful pun themed dinner that might include "buns in the oven"? Might go over his head. Hand him the sonogram that she had gotten after the pregnancy test just to be sure? He's from the forties, what the fuck is he going to know about a sonogram?

Y/N was terrified over he was going to react. Bucky was barely getting used to the world, barely getting used to having control of his own mind. And while he had been doing a lot better and he makes sure to take care of himself, Y/N didn't know how he would handle the stress of a baby. Did he even want to be a dad? Y/N didn't even know if she wanted to be a mom, but she know that somehow it felt right. They've never even talked about having children and now-well they were sort of past the point of thinking about having kids.

The whole situation made her want to vomit, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just from the morning sickness.

Y/N eventually landed on telling him over dinner. Nothing too fancy, just the usual place they always go to so that Bucky wouldn't think anything was up. All day long as she sat through meeting after meeting, her date got closer and closer, and that dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach grew with every second. Y/N felt like she was going to vomit by the time she met up with her boyfriend back at their apartment. Luckily, Bucky talks the entire car ride to the restaurant, complaining about something Sam did that day. She uses her training for good, covering up her nervousness with a neutral face.

They made their regular small talk as they sit in the back of the restaurant at their usual table. Y/N orders her usual lemonade while Bucky orders a Coke. They share a basket of bread and Y/N hopes that the carbs soak up the acid that keeps threatening to rise up her throat. Each time she wants to bring up her news, their waitress would come up with refills, an E.T.A on their food, or just to ask how they were doing. And each time, Y/N would glare daggers at her back once she was turned around to walk away.

Then their respective plates of pasta were placed in front of them. Bolognese for Bucky, arrabbiata for Y/N. While usually she immediately dives into her plate, the way her stomach is twisting and turning, she's unable to eat. Y/N pushes her pasta around with her fork as she works up the courage to talk to him. She just didn't know how to say it. All she knew is that she had to say it. Y/N puts down her fork, moving to wipe her now sweaty hands on the cloth napkin on her lap as she looks up at him. Bucky was raising a pasta laden fork up to his mouth as she opened hers.

"I'm pregnant." She finally blurts out. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the noise of the other guests at the restaurant. She was afraid that he couldn't hear her, afraid that she was going to have to say it again. But by the way Bucky's eyes widen, she knew that he had heard her loud and clear. He lowers his fork, mouth opening and shutting.

"I-What? You're-What?" The super soldier asks, looking from her face to her stomach and back to her face. Y/N felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach, the blood draining from her face.

"I-I'm pregnant. I found out last week." Y/N manages to get out, still looking down at her plate. Her eyes started to sting and she tried to blink her eyes rapidly in order to keep her tears at bay. Bucky's silence is deafening and Y/N wishes she could run out of the restaurant, but it's like she's glued to the chair. She wants him to say something-anything, but he is silent. Y/N is about to say something when he holds his hands up, almost in defense.

"Wait. I-I don't want you to be upset. I'm not mad-I just don't know how to put my feelings into words. I'm happy. I'm really happy. I just-You know I'm not good with words." Bucky finally speaks, stumbling over his words. Her eyes widen and she quickly looks up at him.

"I-Really?" Y/N asks, the knot her stomach slowly unraveling. Bucky nods, a small smile appearing on his face. This time the tears that are filling her eyes from happiness.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about babies or raising a child, but I'm sure I can figure it out." Bucky jokes, his metal hand fiddling with his utensils on the table. Y/N feels a million times better, a huge weight being lifted off of her shoulders. He looks up at her again, "I'm happy, Y/N. I am."

"Me too. Me too."

Four Months

As Y/N walked into her apartment, the only thing on her mind was kicking her shoes off, taking off her bra that was digging into her sides, and taking a much deserved nap. Her meeting had ended early and with Rhodey not needing help with anything, she had decided to return to her apartment. Yet, with not even a foot inside of the apartment, she was immediately greeted with an argument.

"No, what I am saying is you're painting wrong." Bucky snaps, which makes Y/N's eyebrow raise. Her boyfriend wasn't in sight, but he certainly was in the apartment somewhere. She sets her things down, walking over to where the arguing is coming from.

"How the hell can I be painting wrong? I'm putting paint on the wall. The wall is getting painted." Sam fires back and Y/N has to force herself to not laugh, covering her mouth. She stands in the doorway of the guest room, taking in the sight in front of her. The floor and furniture was covered in plastic tarp, blue painting tape lining the white molding and outlets. Painting supplies littered the room and standing in the middle of all of it were two idiots, both of them holding paint rollers covered in a light sage green paint.

"I'm sorry-what's going on here?" Y/N questions, motioning to the two of them and the mess in the room. Their heads snapped towards her, nervous smiles spreading across their faces. They looked like two kids that have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Hey doll-uh fuck-surprise." Bucky announces a little defeatedly while Sam gives a one handed jazz hand. Y/N laughs, carefully stepping into the room as the 106 year old man tries to explain, "I-We were going to surprise you by painting the room. Why are you home so early?"

"My meetings ended early and I am extremely surprised. Thank you and thank you too, Sammy." Y/N says sweetly, smiling at the two of them. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and Sam chuckles. While the men may not see eye to eye all of the time, Sam has been a great help to both of them. The man had some knowledge about babies and children, being the proud uncle to two little boys, and he had been trying his best to put some of Bucky's worries at ease.

"I'm just trying to be a really great uncle." Sam teases, which makes the super soldier roll his eyes. Bucky didn't have any living siblings and Y/N's teammates were the closest thing she had to family so it was going to be Uncle Sam, Uncle Rhodey, Auntie Pepper, Auntie Wanda, and so on and so forth. Their little patchwork support system that they were incredibly grateful for.

"Do you two need any help? I can't because I am pretty sure I'm not supposed to be inhaling paint fumes. But I can give Peter a call, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Y/N offers, grinning from ear to ear. She knows that both men weren't exactly best friends with Peter Parker, both of them having gotten their asses handed to them by a teenager. Y/N didn't have any issues with the kid, hell she talked to him on a weekly basis. He reported to her every Friday, filling Y/N on his week. While it had first started as him telling her what Spider-Man did, it soon turned into a three hour long meeting that included take out while he filled her in the weekly drama and tales of him and his two friends. And every Friday when she would return to the apartment, Sam and Bucky would greet her by calling her traitor.

"Jesus-No, we are okay doll. I think we can manage, right Sam?" Bucky asks, looking at the other man. Sam just nods, holding his paint covered roller a little higher.

"Yeah yeah I think we will be okay. This room will be done in no time."

Seven Months

Y/N watched from her seat at the kitchen island as Bucky moved around the kitchen, attempting to make dinner.

Y/N had been put on bed rest due to the fact that the Super Serum that had affected Bucky's DNA was causing the baby to grow at an accelerated rate. Seeing that this is going to be the first baby born with the serum (that they know of), the doctor wanted Y/N to be cautious.

Bucky, had taken the doctor's words incredibly seriously, going so far as to not even let make any food, like he is doing now.

"Bucky, baby, I can help you, y'know." Y/N tells him as Bucky attempted to follow a fairly simple recipe for marinara sauce. It was already going south pretty fast. He hadn't bought the right type of tomatoes and hadn't chopped nearly enough garlic. She kept herself from micromanaging the whole thing, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"Doll, I used to make dinner for me and my sister. I think I can handle this." He replies, setting the knife he was using to chop up the yellow onion aside. He scoops up the onion in his hands, moving to toss it into the big pan on the stove. The onions sizzle as soon as it hits the olive oil covered surface of the pan.

When Y/N had told Bucky she was craving pasta, she had kind of meant that they would just pick something up. Bucky had decided that he would make the meal himself and Y/N, once she saw how excited he was, didn't have the heart to tell him that she had wanted take-out.

It was actually sort of sweet, seeing him trying to hard to make this meal for her. All he wanted to do is take care of her, take care of their baby. She loved cooking for him for the same reason. It was a way to show her love, to show how much she cared about him and he just wanted to do the same.

"Alright, Barnes. I believe in you." Y/N responds, smiling at him. She just watched as he cooked (and occasionally danced to the jazz music that was playing on the record player). It didn't matter if the meal sucked, Bucky was just trying his best to take care of his girlfriend and their child.

But for the record, the meal did suck.

Eight Months

It was a sight, seeing them together.

Bucky held their daughter close to his chest, bouncing her carefully as the light started to filter through the blinds of her hospital room. A smile was stretched across his tired face as he moved from side to side, cooing to her softly. His hair was a mess, his clothes incredibly wrinkled. The morning light surrounded the two like a halo and if Y/N could, she'd take a picture of them. A picture of her family.

Their daughter had been born a month early, which wasn't too surprising considering with how fast she had been growing. Although it was a shock when Y/N's water broke the night before while they were sleeping. Then Y/N had spent most of yesterday in labor, finally giving birth to their sweet baby girl-Rebecca Natalia Barnes, named after Bucky's little sister and Y/N's best friend-in the evening. Bucky had started crying when Y/N had told him that she had wanted to name their daughter after his sister, not thinking that Y/N would have wanted to pay tribute to his long dead sister.

"Look Rebecca, mommy's awake." Bucky says softly, looking over to where Y/N was laying in her bed. The Super Soldier grinned at her, still rocking their child. Y/N smiled at the two of them, shifting on the bed so she can sit up a bit more as her boyfriend walked over. She looks up at the two, her heart swelling with the way Bucky looks holding their daughter.

"Hi baby." Y/N says hoarsely, the bundle of pink shifting and squirming in Bucky's arms. She holds her arms out, silently asking if she can hold Rebecca. Bucky carefully places the newborn into her arms before he pulls the plastic chair closer to the bed, not wanting to be too far from either of them.

"I can't believe she's actually here." Y/N announces softly, taking in every detail of her daughter's face in the early morning light. She had Bucky's blue-gray eyes and his nose, but her hair. It felt weird to see her, felt weird to be holding her. Y/N felt like she was dreaming, but the pain she had gone through the night before-the pain she was still feeling now-had made it real.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Bucky asks, looking at mother and child interacting. Y/N nods, tears filling her eyes as she looks down at her daughter. She presses her lips against Rebecca's forehead, taking in that baby smell that every parenting book seemed to mention. Bucky is still smiling, looking at the two, "My two beautiful girls."

Hours from now, the hospital room would be filled with friends what were more likely family, wanting to share this incredibly special moment with the Y/L/N-Barnes family. Rebecca would be introduced with her aunts and uncles, each one of them getting a chance to hold and introduce themselves to the newborn.

But for now, for now, the three of them were alone. The three of them sat together in this room, all getting used to each other. Nothing else existed outside of this room, nothing else mattered outside of this room. All that mattered was that they were together.

#bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #tfatws

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9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

four months.

note: hiiiii! just trying to get into the groove again. i dont know what this is. the original prompt is below, however it did not turn out that way?¿ its kind of a mess, but fluffy i suppose. i hope you enjoy :>.

using my own experience so don’t think i hate poor people because i am those people </3

(also chapter 4 of children of tragedy will be out soon, i promise. ive just had awful writers block.)

+ thank you moli for proofreading so i dont have to. i love you.

warnings: none?

prompt: * reader used to be poor and stuff and w/n is like “you know you don’t have to get the cheapest things” and R covers it up and says “oh this is the brand i like, but w/n discovers hidden receipts and asks why they have a bunch of useless receipt and R is like “i was just tracking how much we spend....”

🏷 @natasha-danvers @midnight-lestrange @whatiziz @kermy48 @mycosmicparadise @peggycarter-steverogers @blackxwidowsxwife (lmk if you want off the tag list because ik i dont post as regularly as other writers, so im just going with people who have told me they want to be on my tag list in the past)

and lastly, for my baby @nermalina. its not really your genre per se [ i have a smut fic that i’ll dt you on ;)] however, accept this as a form of love.

it wasn’t so much that you were homeless and out on the streets, but you weren’t necessarily well off either. working as a waitress only got you far enough to pay your monthly rent and gas. somehow you managed to squeeze in a list of groceries.

every penny counted, you didn’t have room for mishaps or sick days. thats why you kept your budget small and a stash full of receipts on the kitchen bar.

natasha didn’t know about any of this though. you were sure she’d have you by the neck if she found out how long you’d been keeping your secret.

the redhead was generous, and no matter how many times you offered to pay for something she would never even dream of letting you. natasha insisted on it, and you were powerless to stop her.

it wasn’t until you tagged along with her on a trip to the grocery store when things began to unravel. she only needed a few things, nothing important.

but nat was quick to pick up on the fact that you continuously flipped every little thing you picked up to look at the price tag.

“here, it’s the cheapest one i could find.” you said, smiling as you handed her a cardboard box of pasta. natasha hummed, “you know you don’t have to get me the cheapest thing on the shelf.”

you bit your lip, eyes suddenly looking back at the shelf of different pasta boxes. “i know... it’s just- it’s my favorite brand.” natasha automatically knew you were lying by the way you began chewing on the inside of your lip.

she narrowed her eyes. “no it’s not.”

“huh?”

“you got this brand because it was the cheapest. you know i can afford more, which leads me to believe you do this out of habit.”

you shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze. “no, i just really like that brand.”

the sudden realization that she had never been to your place struck her.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“why don’t we go back to your apartment after this? we can just relax, watch a movie, do whatever you want.”

a mix of guilt and shame flooded your body. but damned if you didn’t still give it a try.

“my apartment’s a mess right now, you don’t want to see that.” you tried, offering a small, dry laugh in hopes of getting her off your back.

“you’re a terrible liar.”

“i’m not-”

“i picked you up from the park today, just like every other day. i’ve not once picked you up from your own apartment, so what are you hiding?”

when you didn’t give an answer, she tossed the cheapest box of pasta in her cart and walked away. you groaned as you watched natasha leave before catching up to her.

“okay, okay, we can go back to my apartment. just don’t judge me, alright?”

she smiled softly, “it wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

soon enough you began helping your girlfriend load her car with bags full of miscellaneous items. nothing needed to be refrigerated, so if natasha wanted to, she could stay at your apartment all day.

your leg bounced in the car as you gave her directions. but soon enough, after what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life, natasha pulled into a parking space right outside your door.

you silently cursed yourself for not renting a spot upstairs. at least then it would’ve prolonged the situation just a little bit longer.

natasha watched as you fumbled with your keys, your hands visibly shaking.

“fuck.” you mumbled after hearing the clank of metal hit the ground. you bent down to pick them up but natasha beat you to it.

“which key?” her voice was soft.

“the yellow one.”

the door swung open and you motioned for natasha to go before you.

it wasn’t bad, really. apart from the chipped brown walls, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke (you hated your neighbors for that), the broken windows, lack of space and furniture that was as good as the floor.

natasha noticed the windows first, a sense of protectiveness overpowering her. she didn’t like that you weren’t safe.

you went to offer her a water bottle, but she wasn’t paying attention. instead, she noticed the lack of food in your fridge, frowning when you tried to cover it up.

another few minutes of her silence went by and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“look, i know you’re rich. i know you like to have luxury brands and that you don’t have to worry about whether or not someone will break in and steal what little you have left. but that doesn’t give you any right to judge me. i’m sorry i don’t live up to your expectations.”

natasha licked her lips and leaned her back against the kitchen counter.

“how long have you lived like this?”

her question caught you off guard, but you managed to find an answer.

“i’ve always lived like this, nat.”

she nodded solemnly before abruptly turning around to look at what was inside your cabinets.

“what are you do-”

“you have no food.”

you sighed, “well yeah, i can’t really afford it.”

“and the receipts?”

natasha was met with a shrug. “have to keep track of everything somehow.”

she stared at you a minute longer before finding the exact words she wanted to say.

“i would never judge you, or anyone for that matter, on their living situation. i know people don’t always have a say in what or why things happen.” she paused. “but i don’t like knowing you go to sleep every night with broken windows practically inviting anyone to come in and intrude. i don’t like knowing all you have to eat is bread, canned fruit and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

you listened to her ramble on, still nervous about the fact that this was new to her.

“so come live with me.”

“natasha-”

“come live with me.”

you immediately shook your head. “no, no, no. nat don’t even-”

“i’m serious. you won't win this argument, y/n. let me take care of you. i don't mind picking you up and dragging you out of here myself if that’s what it takes.”

a sigh left your lips as you folded your arms across your chest. “natasha, i can’t have you do that. i’m okay, i promise.”

the redhead raised her eyebrow. “how many times have you gone to bed hungry? or let your car run on fumes for as long as you could? and how many times have you gone to work sick because you can’t afford to miss one single day?”

when natasha was met with no reply she moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you into her embrace.

“i know it’s only been four months but i don’t think i could ever forgive myself if something happened to you and i didn’t do enough to stop it.”

she kissed the side of your head, “let me take care of you.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

and loved, always | matsukawa issei

genre: comfort | characters: matsukawa issei, you

commissions | ko-fi

issei tells you that you need to brush your hair, and that’s all it takes for you to break.

‘i know,’ is what you say, and you keep your head down as you finish the rest of your meal that night. the hours stretch, and the clock on the wall ticks, loud, but little by little he knows your composure is chipping away by the second.

what becomes of your unraveling is how for a while he just stays with you--present--then sits you down on the cold tiles of your kitchen, at one in the morning, before undoing the tie on your hair.

the dishes in the sink are still there, and the faucet’s tapping because you didn’t close it tight enough. he watches as you stare at it, not quite transfixed, but mostly tired. your shoulders slump, you shut the faucet, and you break a little more.

you choose not to speak, because your throat feels tight. he chooses the same, because he’s never been too good with words. so he loves you in tenderness. you feel the callouses in his hands as he slowly runs his fingers through the mess, as he assesses the damage. it doesn’t take long for his fingers to get caught on a tangle, and you wince. not in pain, but the way you avert your eyes and murmur for him to stop, because you can handle it, hints to him that you’re just embarrassed.

but he understands that some days, it’s that much harder to get through the mundane part of your schedule. lately, you just wake up, move through the motions, then end the day with your victory as just surviving the day.

so gently, he weaves through the tangles, taking his time. it’s one, issei, he hears you say. you have work tomorrow, you continue, trying to convince him with reason.

i can clean up my own mess tomorrow, he hears, like it’s your final plea.

“this isn’t a mess,” he tells you, as a response.

it’s still one in the morning, and time is still linear. thirty three minutes from now, it’ll be two. the both of you still have work in a few hours, and the day will reset as soon as the clock hits seven, and you’ll have to move through the motions just to get by again. just to end the day and say you survived.

there’s tangles in your hair, and two more plates, unwashed in the sink, but you feel issei’s fingers comb through your hair slowly--softly--as he untangles the more stubborn pieces like he’s got all the time in the world.

and you feel love like that; love like healing.

love like allowing yourself to cry because you’re hurting, and unravel because this home is safe. issei’s never been a man who’s a poet when it came to words, but he does hold you in the way that all the poets insist is the gentle sort of love. and it works like a bandage. it heals. untangling one knot at a time as he brushes your hair. one minute at a time as the clock ticks, reminding you that even though you constantly feel like you’re drowning with the flow--here you are, a little broken, but still living--

(issei presses a kiss against the side of your temple as soon as you give in to the weight of your own cloud of sadness. he catches you, and says nothing more.)

--and loved, always.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq imagines #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei scenarios #matsukawa issei imagines #matsukawa issei fluff #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa scenarios #matsukawa imagines

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xpeachesncream · 4 years

Text

fiend | one shot

f i e n d ;

a person who wants something really bad, and keeps coming back for more.

because that's exactly what you are with your boss who dicks you down properly, time and time again.

pairing: assistant!reader x ceo!yg

genre: ceo au | smut

words: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, bondage, unprotected rough sex that makes you cry, multiple orgasms, breast play, fingering, oral (m. & f. receiving), pussy smacking, ass smacking, dirty talking, doggy style, choking, i think that’s it?

note: uh, definitely filthiest smut i’ve ever written by far.. i’m sorry lmao i’m trying to experiment with smut and yoongi is the one i’ve decided to experiment with. again, pls excuse any errors. enjoy!

Your eyes drifted down the hallway, quickly making eye contact with your boss before you turned the corner. Soon after, you heard his foot steps following behind you, his fingers grazing the buttons of his blazer as he unbuttoned them and quickly loosened the tie around his neck as he continued to follow your path.

You bit your lip as you took one last look behind you, seeing him coming for you, the lust seeping through his skin. Apparent in his eyes. In his walk. The way he licked his bottom lip.

You turned the knob to a room, not knowing who's it was but you didn't give a single fuck. All these rich folk and their big ass homes, there was no way any of them truly and actually cared about each and every single room in the house. Before you could fully shut the door, your boss slips himself in, silently shutting it close for you and locking it.

"Running away from me?" Yoongi asks in your ear, his breath grazing your neck.

"There's no fun if I don't, right?" You slightly cock your head to the side, a smirk slowly growing at the corner of your lips. Suddenly, you feel the cold material from his tie wrap around your wrists.

"Hmm." He hums. "Now that I've got you though, you're not going anywhere." He says lowly, holding the tie tightly as he bends you forward onto the side of the drawer against the wall. He finishes tying his tie around your wrist, your breathing slightly hitching when he tightens it. You feel him lift the back of your dress up, your thong exposing your ass cheeks and your folds almost swallowing the material with how bent you are at the moment.

How you got here? You didn't know, but you also didn't care. Min Yoongi was one of the youngest thriving CEOs to exist and out of all applicants, he had chosen your innocent ass as his assistant. You literally had just graduated not too long ago, finding an ad for the position online as you nonchalantly surfed the web and did your rounds of poking for entry-level positions. It didn't contain many requirements, which sparked your interest. But you figured you'd never land the job having interviewed amongst other women and men who had been executive assistants previously for months, even years.

Little did you know that you'd star in your own Fifty Shades of Grey movie, and honestly, all this shit was worth it to you. You didn't care about the dirty ass looks the rest of the staff would give you. You didn't care about the shit talking they'd do. You were never one to worry about little things like that; You did you and you carried your own shit. You knew the women were jealous, and you knew they wanted to be you.

Why would you be mad about that?

It ultimately became Yoongi's weakness. You just had it like that.

You'd watch as they'd take your job and prepare Yoongi's coffee in the morning, hoping to bat an eyelash and shower him in compliments. You sat at your desk smirking to yourself at how hard they tried. Sometimes Yoongi would acknowledge it, most of the time - he didn't. Because he was fixated on you and you had yet to learn that.

He wasn't one to build relationships with his staff, he made sure to keep his personal life separate from his career. He didn't talk much in the beginning, having random people train you before he began to step in and show you the ropes himself. He'd come off cold at first, barely showing any expressions. Barely acknowledging you by name, even. But as time went on, you were able to exceed his expectations, doing things before he'd even ask and you found him slowly unraveling around you. He'd tell you goodmorning as soon as he'd catch sight of you at your desk. He'd ask how your day was. He'd ask for your opinion on certain things. He'd ask for you to fully handle his schedule because he loved the way you treated him so delicately, moving appointments around just so he'd have time to breathe and eat. Then, you'd catch his smile. His laugh. How he'd shower you in compliments, talking about how nice you looked that day. He'd leave you notes on your desk, thanking you for your hard work.

If you weren't mistaken, you had felt a small crush developing for your boss. But, you knew you had to keep it professional. That is - until Min Yoongi had caught on and acted on it. He stood behind you as he looked over your shoulder at the computer screen. He had one hand planted on your desk, while the other rested on the top of your chair. You looked up at him from your seat, his eyes locked onto yours. He edged his face closer to yours, locking your lips with his. You couldn't help but gasp as you quickly pulled away, pushing yourself off after reality had settled in. But he had grabbed your wrist ever so gently, shaking his head as he told you to stop holding back. Something so innocent had turned lustful, full of desire and passion. You gave in and allowed him to get a taste of all of you. Once you were in, there was no going back. He fucked you so good that you could barely walk, fucking you in all places you could imagine - his office, his car, his home, his kitchen, balcony, now this party that was flooded with such highly important people. All you wanted was him, all you craved for was him; Just as he had craved for you every second of his day.

That's why your ass was bent over on someone's expensive ass black dresser, Yoongi's tie tied tightly around your wrists as he swipes his fingers down his tongue before giving your pussy a good smack. You let out a small whimper as he pulls your panties down and throws them aside, his tongue licking a stripe in between your folds.

"You gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Yes." You whimper once again when you feel him spread your cheeks to take full advantage of the position you were in. You feel his tongue gently probe your entrance before you hear him suck you dry, a slight chuckle releasing from his lips as he pulls away and starts to insert two fingers to stretch you out. His long fingers start slowly, Yoongi full out enjoying the sound of your wetness every time he pulls in and out. He curves his digits upwards, causing you to twitch on the drawer from how deep he's tickling your core.

"Ohhhhh, Yoongi, please." You mewl. Your hands are slightly getting tired from being held behind you, but at the same time, you're so fucking turned on at how rough he's handling you - like he had been wanting you all night. Which, he has. He couldn't believe the audacity you had to show up to this party in that tightly fitted dress, hugging you in all the right places. You caught on quick, teasing him throughout the night by grazing your hand against his, brushing your fingers across his manhood area ever so gently in passing, whispering how good he looked in his suit.

"Stay still. You said you'd be good." He says, quickening his pace while he held the tie down to keep your hands in place. The faster he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the quicker you feel yourself coming undone.

"Hohhhh, fuck." You moan. "I'm close."

"Gonna cum around these fingers, baby?" You want to hold on so badly, but you can't. And you don't. You find yourself trembling on top of the dresser, Yoongi licking up your mess and completely disregarding how overly sensitive you are right now. The pain turns into more pleasure for you, and you want nothing more than to feel him inside of you.

But he has other plans first. He wastes no time bringing you back up to standing position by holding his tie, aggressively getting you on your knees in the middle of the room.

"You better make good use of those hands when I let them go." He says, undoing his tie. You slightly wince at how sore you are from keeping your hands in one position for some time, but you brush it off as Yoongi stands in front of you, ready for you to unzip his pants and let his aching dick free. He loves watching you suck him on your knees, the sight of your pretty face and his dick going in and out of your mouth being something out of this world for him. He ain't ever gotten head so good until he's gotten it from you.

And so you're craving to make him feel just as good as he made you feel, gripping his hardened member when it springs free from his boxers, your tongue following its length like a guide. His dick wasn't the thickest, but it was long and that shit never failed to make you cum time and time again. That shit never failed to tear you up. You suck his tip, your tongue swirling around the pooling pre-cum before you pull back with a pop. You watch from below as he tilts his head back in pleasure, small moans leaving his mouth as his hands are tangled in your hair. He begins to lower you onto his dick, steadying the pace before he wants you to start taking him all the way. His tip tickles the back of your throat while he keeps you there for a good minute, tears streaming from your eyes as you choke on him, saliva trailing from your mouth and his tip once he tugs your head back.

"So fucking pretty when you take my shit like that." He smirks before biting his bottom lip, his grey hair lightly brushing past his eyes. You swallow him whole a couple of times more, more saliva trailing down his dick and between your mouth and his tip before he's satisfied with how fucked out you look simply from taking his dick down your throat. "What do you want me to do to you, pretty girl?"

"Fuck me, please." You whine. He grips your chin and stands you up to eye level.

"You want me?" You nod. "Tell me how much you want me, babygirl."

"I want you so bad, Yoongi. Please. Wanna feel you."

He smirks. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart. Don't worry about that." He doesn't hesitate to carry you, albeit he struggles a bit with his pants below his ankles, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso before dropping you onto the bed. You wiggle yourself up a little higher before he crawls on top, his lips pressing against yours. The kiss quickly becomes messy, your hands getting tangled in his hair as his tongue sensually caressed your mouth. You moan into it while his hands work to bring the bottom portion of your dress above your waist. He pulls down your top portion just enough to expose your bare breasts, his hands giving them a good squeeze before taking your nipples in between his fingers and giving them a good pinch. You let out a small cry as he pulls away from the kiss, your nipples feeling incredibly hard and sensitive from his touch. He brings his mouth down to one nipple at a time, toying with it for a second by using his tongue to flick the bud around before sucking.

"That feels so good." You let out breathily. He lets out a small moan as he sucks on the other before bringing his mouth back up to yours. You wiggle yourself onto him, feeling his tip graze your folds, driving you insane. The heat is pooling in your core, almost unbearable at the fact.

"You want this dick in you now?" He whispers in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe right after. You let out a hiss as you nod, letting out a small whimper as you watch him pump his dick a few times below you. He inserts the tip, your mouth slightly open at how fucking good he feels slowly filling you up. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you grip onto his shirt while he bottoms out, the sound of your wetness bouncing off of the walls while he rolls his hips into you, working inwards and outwards. He keeps your legs open with his hands, making sure your wide enough to feel every inch of him inside of you.

"Fuuuuck, Yoongi." You moan. "Give it to me." He picks up his pace. "Just like that, just like that." You repeatedly whine until you can't cry it out any longer. The pleasure completely takes over your body as you bounce up and down in his grip, his eyes marveling at your titties bouncing around while he fucks you senselessly.

"Always so good to me." He groans. "Taking me in so perfectly. I wish you could see how fucking good you look crying out for me." You were absolutely perfect to him, in every way possible. The music outside is so loud at this point that you're sure no one can hear you yelling his name in this room. Your nails are digging into his clothed arms, his hands now making his way up to your neck to slightly grip onto it while he aggressively hammers into you.

"I'm gonna cum again." You manage to spit out as his hands are barely giving you room to speak. Sooner or later, one to two more powerful thrusts in, you feel yourself spiraling out of control, groaning as you tremble underneath him. He bites onto his bottom lip as he slows his pace to help you ride out your high and places a sloppy kiss onto your lips.

"Turn around for me." He says, you quickly obeying silently. He has you on your fours towards the edge of the bed, his tie now wrapped around your mouth and in between your teeth. He tugs on it ever so slightly to the side, getting a good look at your face before planting a kiss on on your neck. He quickly swipes his hand down your pussy, knowing full well how sensitive you still are. You twitch at the sensation, Yoongi letting out a small chuckle at how sexy and vulnerable you are right now. He slips himself in, letting out a moan at how wet you are around him. He holds onto his tie as he fucks into you quick, tears streaming down your cheeks. You let out a loud moan, but it's muffled through the material of his tie, enjoying every bit of the pain and pleasure your boss is bringing you at this moment. He grips your ass with his free hand before giving it a good smack, groans leaving his mouth as he pumps in and out.

"Who's pussy is this?" He leans forward and asks in your ear.

"Yours." You mumble.

"Who's?"

"Youuuuurs." You cry.

"Shit, babygirl. I'm gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good." He leans back, his high coming to a close. Your eyes shut close as you feel your walls constrict around him at the same time he lets himself go, his cum coating your walls while you coat his dick. He lets the tie go gently, allowing you to breathe through your high, huffing and puffing to regulate yourself. You let out a small gasp feeling him remove himself from inside of you, cum leaking out of your throbbing pussy. You can barely fix your position, your legs trembling and weak from how fucked out you are. Yoongi takes a napkin from the nearby dresser, wiping you clean before getting himself together and helping you up.

"So much for enjoying the party like you wanted." You tease as you fix yourself in the full length mirror near the bed. Yoongi stands behind you, adjusting his blazer and shirt and tossing his tie aside since it had been drenched from your saliva.

"Didn't have to be such a tease."

"I thought that's what you wanted." He comes from behind you, lowering himself to your ear.

"You know I always want you though, so there's no need to be one. You ever think about that?" He says lowly near your ear as he lifts up your long lost panties with his finger.

#bts #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi one shot #min yoongi one shot #suga one shot #bts suga one shot #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongs #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts suga #writing #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #bts suga smut #bts smut

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slitherbop · 4 years

Note

.......Any papastuck hcs?

THANK YOU for giving me an excuse to publicly ramble about PAPA G AND CHUCK beware of Spoilers within ALSO HERE’S A PIC happy valentines day

When they met and Chuck was still Stuck in the floor, like Post-Chicken-Feed-Missing-Scene, Chuck would be RUDE as HELL to Papa G. But Papa G took it as realizing he’s just A Guy and was like AH MAYBE I SHOULDA BEEN GIVIN HIM REAL FOOD and then he does that, but Chuck is still a bastard to him. Not to The Kid’s knowledge tho, he only found out that Papa G knew about Chuck’s existence in the second episode like we saw.

Papa G literally just looked at Chuck and how Evil he was being at the beginning and was like OH YES WE CAN BE FRIENDS I LIKE THIS GUY cuz he DID save him and want him to be redeemed and have the last ring to be on the team... Papa G’s Immediate Trust.. like if u agree

I like to imagine that Papa G actually did have da iced tea with Chuck to get to know him :] this was Post-Chuck-getting-Cut-in-Half. Papa G is Very Curious about Chuck but Chuck’s still a rude little man at this point and Papa G laughs off his behaviour. Papa G might be f*cked up enough that he does enjoy his company, bad vibes and all

Chuck has NO idea what to make of Papa G here because no one else has ever shown him kindness or wasn’t annoyed at him. It doesn’t stop him from being a force of negativity though cuz at this point he still Believes he’s going to conquer the earth.

This ended up being like a timeline of their relationship and not relationship headcanon UUHH OOPS!!!!!

OK, Chuck actually likes that he calls him Charles it’s the special name :]

I’m prepared to be proven wrong but it would be epic if Chuck started calling Papa G “George” because he was there to hear that that is his first name and Papa G like with Tuna Sandwich doesn’t mind being called it, it’s just his name. Also George is my real name and I’d love to hear Chuck say. Also Also George and Charles are gay old man names

Uh oh I’m talking more about timeline stuff but some time after the events of the big showdown and they’re dealing with the fact that Chuck is deciding to stay here on earth, Papa G and The Kid make him his own living space there in the junkyard with them. Not sure where or what it’d look like but it means a lot to Chuck (makes this face -> 🥺) I’d imagine since his species aren’t given their own names / have individuality he wasn’t given a space of his own to do whatever he wanted with

Since they no longer have the rings, Chuck helps Papa G as an extra hand doing work in the yard (Papa G had to get used to doing stuff without being his own company :[ ) and Chuck ACTUALLY LOVES HELPING imagine that one scene where Papa G and Chuck are working together to build the ice cream megaphone truck, they’re both really skilled at building stuff and enjoy it so it’s like that pretty often!

I swear to god Papa G needs to get Chuck a wheelchair / make him one, I want to believe that he does have one and we just didn’t see it at the end of the time skip -_- :prayer: but they totally deck it the hell out (you KNOW Papa G is capable of making deadly death machines and you KNOW Chuck would absolutely love that sh*t!!!!)

Anyway back to the time skip relationship development thing: PAPA G SHOWS CHUCK AROUND HIS HOUSE I wish we knew what inside the house looked like besides the kitchen sink lol but Papa G figured if he’s gonna be around here more often he might as well show him where HE lives! Papa G is SUPER excitedly showing him all the weird stuff he’s accumulated over his lifetime. Chuck doesn’t Get the specialness of physical possessions and calls it Junk but Papa G doesn’t mind! He shows things and Chuck is confused about certain things (being an Alien) and Papa G is happy to explain everything to him.

Papa G shares Chuck his art and is showing him painting ;_; once again Chuck is a bastard and doesn’t totally get it. Papa G would definitely call HIM an artist, pointing out that all the building that Chuck does is artwork, those comics that he spent all that time reading was him appreciating the art, and that changes the way he views it. Chuck makes his own dam comics, I’d imagine the way he’d draw is very unique and the text is written in his language, and then it’s Papa G who doesn’t totally get it but is ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT IT!!!

Also Papa G totally takes Chuck out to the middle of nowhere to go look for junk, this is probably Chuck’s Least Favourite Activity LOL but they do spend a lot of time talking about anything, I’m really curious about what the kind of things they’d even say when they’re not faced with any threat and are only with each other *looks up at the sky in thought..*

Chuck please go off about your previous life away from earth I feel like as soon as he came here he kinda just accepted himself being Stuck Chuck and therefore had no attachment to being a nameless body in an alien army. Also Papa G please open up about your messed up secret history that warranted the government keeping tabs on you and made you live almost completely isolated.

See^ I think whatever they got going on on a DEEP LEVEL could be wild and would have so much to unravel, Chuck’s life before this was probably just 90% seeing various people DIE and was simply made to Kill people for his leader. And. you KNOW Papa G has something Messed Up about him + Is Traumatized / got “bad flashbacks” + the whole seeing himself die and being numb to it. And now that they are people who are trying to save lives on their team they could Relate to each other as the two older guys with UNKNOWN HISTORY!!!!

UUUUH OK SO SHIP HEADCANONS RIGHT. RIGHT. They hold hands :] they rarely kiss it’s mostly Papa G who kisses Chuck on the face but Chuck is forbidden from kissing unless Papa G wants to go to sleep. Also Chuck likes to be held by Papa G, they hug a lot :D Papa G takes Chuck out to the diner and gets him everything he wants <3 they go to the house and watch movies and Kid joins them too as a family ;_; Papa G goes to sleep in his god forsaken hammock with Chuck, and Chuck is like So This Is Your Weird-Ass Cocoon Huh and Papa G is like HAHA YUP and its sweet.

I’m gonna end this here thank you for reading, this is the kinda stuff I ramble on and on like this in private but I hope u enjoy some of my thoughts about this I think it’s a genius ship with so much potential and is my favourite thing right now THANKS

#SLITHER GOES HAM THE POST #kid cosmic #papastuck #stuck chuck #papa g #slitherdraws #i did draw a pic #Anonymous

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2

Craft Projects and Failed Bonding

Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.

Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.

Word Count: 4,533

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22

Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!

“Virgil, wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgil’s bed once the coast was clear. He hadn’t been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.

Though, speaking of his backpack…he had no idea where to put it. It wasn’t safe in Virgil’s room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Roman’s bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but that’s a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didn’t want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They weren’t allowed to know that.

Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgil’s bed. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it’d work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be the first kid to arrive.

The prayer wasn’t enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. “Morning, kiddo! How’d you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!”

Don’t let him find out you weren’t in your room. “Oh, these are my pajamas, I haven’t gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.”

Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. “…Do you not have real pajamas, kiddo?”

“No. I like sweatpants better.”

Patton didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time.

Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. “Virgil, did you sleep last night? You look…a bit rough, to put it lightly.”

Virgil grunted. “I had to clean.”

Patton sighed. “Kiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?”

Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. “Virgil,” Patton chastised, “No coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but you’re too young for coffee.”

Logan raised his hand. “May I have some?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

“What kinda drink do you want, Roman?” Patton asked. “And don’t say coffee.”

Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. “I’ll take milk, then.”

Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.

Holy fuck, Roman hadn’t had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.

Patton laughed when he noticed Roman’s reaction. “Taste good, kiddo?”

Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. “Good! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I haven’t looked back since!”

Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. He’d finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasn’t looking.

Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasn’t even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgil’s room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.

Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. “So, Roman,” he said, “How about you and I go to the store today?”

Roman froze. “…Why?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!”

“Wait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!”

Patton seemed apologetic. “In this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually I’d let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think it’d be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.”

You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Patton interrupted Roman’s internal scheming. “Do you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?”

Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. “Binders, pencils, folders, notebooks…I only have a backpack, really.”

“We definitely need to stop by the store then! And while we’re there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!”

Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and he’ll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.

They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a while…

“…We can go.” Roman said. Patton’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.

“Great! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, you’ll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.”

Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.

Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.

“What.” Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.

“I only need to grab my bag, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuggin’ take it.” Virgil snapped.

Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.

Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by “cleaning”.

The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Roman’s only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgil’s room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.

Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.

There’s no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.

Virgil

Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasn’t a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasn’t possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.

He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.

He’d just…have to find some other place to sleep until then.

Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Patton’s attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Camera or not, he’d have to find a way to pay Virgil back.

***

“Roman, what’s your favorite color?”

Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. “Uh…red.”

“Perfect! They’ve got lots of reds!” Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. “Though, wait, let me check the supplies website…I don’t wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multiple…”

Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.

He’d have to search the house for hiding spots later.

“So,” Patton eventually said, “It doesn’t say exactly, so I’ll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. What’s your second favorite color?”

Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. “Purple.”

Patton smiled. “That’s Virgil’s favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So let’s look at the pencil cases now!” Patton caught a glimpse of Roman’s pale face and his smile dropped. “…Are you okay, kiddo?”

Roman nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didn’t trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. “Are you sure?”

Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, let’s just get this over with already.

Patton’s head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Roman’s direction. “Say, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? I’ll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!”

Roman glanced at Patton’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.

Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filter’s bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands weren’t shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked. That’s all Roman could really ask for.

He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldn’t feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.

Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.

Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.

Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plants…wait! Roman’s eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!

Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!

Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasn’t a hardware store there wasn’t much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.

Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!

“There you are, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. “I noticed you left the other aisle and I didn’t know where to find you.”

Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. “Sorry, I got bored…but I found something I want for my room!”

“You did? What is it, kiddo?”

Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “…Curtain rods?”

“Yes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?”

Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, kiddo…it sounds like a cool project! But you’d have to install them into the roof, and I’m not very good with a drill!”

“I can do it!” Roman begged, “I’ve installed lots of home stuff before, and I’m really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise I’ll fix any holes, or I’ll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything that’s broken, just…please? Can I try?”

Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Roman’s eyes and sighed. “…You can try, kiddo. Just…don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work, okay?”

“I won’t be! Promise!” Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. “Now, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!”

Patton seemed like his head was spinning. “I’ll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.”

And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Roman’s liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Roman’s vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.

With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesn’t matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He won’t be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he won’t realize his mistake in letting me do this until it’s too late.

Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. I’m a genius.

The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didn’t even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.

“Kiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?” Patton yelled once he entered the house.

“I will later!” Roman answered. He had work to do.

The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Roman’s skill of how fast he could hand sew.

He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. “Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s lunch time, kiddo,” Patton answered, “I called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?”

No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. “In a minute.”

“Roman, it’s been a while already. A little break won’t hurt.”

“I will in a minute!” It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.

Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. “I’m coming!”

“Roman, can you open the door?”

Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! “…Why?”

“I’ve got your lunch for you.”

Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.

Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. “I had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while you’re working.”

Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

No. No, you can’t. You never can, ever. “…Sure.”

Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at what’s inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.

“You like it?”

Roman nodded. “Never had this before.”

“It’s a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.” Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. “What are you doing now for your canopy bed?”

“I was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. I’ve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.”

“Sounds cool! Do you need any help?”

Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he won’t be angry. “Do you know how to sew?”

“I know how to repair tears. That’s it.”

Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. “Take the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.”

“You’re very good at hand stuff!” Patton complimented. A shiver went up Roman’s spine.

“…Yes.”

From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.” Patton joked.

Roman shrugged. “You won’t be able to see it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you gonna decorate the sheets once you’ve hung them up?”

“Yes, it’s easier that way. And I can plan it out.”

“Any reason why you chose crowns and stars?”

Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. “I like crowns. And stars.”

“Logan loves stars.” Patton really hated silence, apparently. “I don’t know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Logan’s is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”

“I’ve only seen Virgil’s room.”

“Oh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!”

Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. “How many of the sheets have you finished?”

“Oh, I’m still on the first one. I’m learning though!”

Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. “You’re doing that very fast, kiddo!”

Roman shrugged. “I’ve done it a lot.”

“What do you usually sew for?”

“Clothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.”

Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. “Did…did you enjoy that time with your mom?”

“I enjoyed all my time with her.” Roman paused. “Well. Most times.”

Patton swallowed. “Most times?”

“Her and I were really close, if that’s what you're asking.” Roman’s hands sped up as he sewed. “She would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.”

Patton’s voice grew serious. “Well…I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo.”

“She’s not dead.”

“I’m still sorry you lost her.” Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. “But you said you can bake?”

Roman nodded. “I bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.”

“We should make some tomorrow, then!”

Roman tensed. “Maybe.”

Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Patton’s to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.

“Well, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.” Patton eventually said, “Tell me how the end project turns out, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. Finally, he’s leaving. “Close the door when you leave.”

Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.

“Yes! I did it! I did it!” Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, he’d been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.

Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.

Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasn’t more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.

Finally.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #implied past abuse #past abuse #food mention #royality #prinxiety #familial royality #familial prinxiety

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

Text

Burnt Toast - Three

Summary: Everyone at Belle Reve has a secret. Even you, the new cook. But when Rick Flag smiles at you, you know everything will become unraveled.

Author’s Note: Thank you all SO MUCH for the kind comments and likes on the last chapter. It means the world to me. Here is the last chapter on this wild ride. Enjoy. :)

Pairing: Rick Flag/F!Reader

Rating for this Chapter: R for violence, depictions of an abusive relationship (please DO NOT READ IF THIS UPSETS YOU), some brief smut, Harley is her own warning, my innate need to have drama with a happy ending

Word Count: 12.1k

Or read on Ao3 here!

Chapter Three

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the edge of Rick’s bed, fingers curled into the soft comforter and your blood roaring in your ears. Not only did Todd know where you were but apparently he was here, too. With an army of goons waiting for his call to drag you back to Gotham so he could…probably kill you slowly. Or put you in a literal cage for his enjoyment…but that would be a slow death.

“Fuck,” you said. The first word you managed to say since receiving Todd’s text.

Rick was gone. Harley and Boomer, too. The three people you thought could and would willingly help were across the globe doing god knows what and you were…here.

You reached up to grab at your necklace and winced when you remembered it was now around Rick’s neck. Maybe it would give him the good luck he needed. Your empty hands covered your face for a moment before you pushed out a stuttered breath.

No.

No, you weren’t going to be the helpless victim again. You’d escaped Todd before and you could do it again.

He probably had figured out that you worked at the prison. Your name had been on the new-hire paperwork—it wasn’t like you could lie to someone like Amanda Waller. But your name wasn’t listed for Rick’s apartment—or the truck of his that you were driving back and forth from work. The parking lot was guarded and difficult if not impossible to see into when outside the gates so they probably did not know what vehicle to tail. The truck had tinted windows so dark a person outside could not see who was driving.

It was good.

You had a bit of time. Todd wasn’t going to be busting down the apartment’s door. (Hopefully. Hopefully. Hopefully.) So, you had a bit of time to plan. You stood and grabbed a notepad off the counter as you walked into the kitchen and stared down at the blank paper as if it would magically appear with the perfect plan to get you out of this fucking mess. But, alas. It was not magic paper and you were out of luck.

You were, however, surrounded by almost-successful criminals and supervillains. Perhaps they had some sort of advice for evading abusive ex-boyfriends. Or how to kill him quickly. Honestly, you would be happy with either. The pencil scratched across the paper with your first idea and hope.

Robert DuBois.

The wheels of your cart squeaked as you walked down the cold hallway of the solitary cells. The entire morning had been filled with you mindlessly making spinach and cheese quiche while you rehearsed what you were going to ask Robert over and over.

“Hey…so…I have this guy who wants to kidnap me because I got tired of being his punching bag so I stole his money and nearly beat him to death. Any tips on how to get rid of him?”

Solid. Solid plan.

The wheels gave a final squeak as you reached Abner’s cell and you slid open the little slot for his food and waited for him to come up to the door to gab it as he usually did. And you waited. And waited.

You angled your head, trying to see inside the cell, expecting to see him asleep on his cot or doodling in the notebook you had seen him keep beneath his pillow.

But he wasn’t there.

With a frown, you pushed the cart to the next cell, one that belonged to a man you usually tried not to speak to as much as possible—Christopher Smith aka Peacemaker. His pseudonym was as stupid as the name himself and he frequently complained about the amount of cheese you liked to use in your dishes but you mostly just ignored him, knowing his inability to be anything less than terrible was probably why he was confined to his cell.

But he was gone too.

You abandoned your cart altogether as you sprinted the short distance to Robert’s cell only to find it…empty.

“Fuck!” You let your head drop against the heavy metal door. Where were they?

But you were out of time. You hurriedly dropped off the meals for the others still in solitary—only momentarily noticing that both the shark and the werewolf-guy-thing were missing from their cells, too—and then booked it back to the cafeteria to serve everyone else. Lunch was going to be simple today anyway, with little prep time needed, so you braced yourself and tried to straighten your shoulders as you walked up the set of stairs you rarely used and opened the door to the surprisingly-nice open-concept office that housed the Squad’s…handlers, you guessed you could call them. They provided locations and guidance on where to go and…occasional threats to keep everyone in line. At least, that was what Rick had told you. You hoped he wasn’t oversimplifying.

Everyone turned to look at you as you entered. You held your chin a little higher before asking, “where’s Robert DuBois?”

“He’s out,” someone said, you couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from as your heart continued to race.

“To Corto Maltese? I thought-”

“How do you know that?” Waller’s cold voice cut through the static rumbling between your ears as she stepped out from a back room and crossed her arms over her chest. Her cold and calculating gaze was pinned on you. “You do not have the security clearance-”

“We sent another team,” some guy said, mouth half-full with a sandwich and a handful of Cheetos.

“Another…team…” Thoughts were jumping from one terrible conclusion to the next before you could even form a proper sentence. There were only two actually capable (and trustworthy) squad members on Rick’s team—Boomer and Harley. And Waller hated them both. Everyone else was… “Bait.” The word was tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop it. “The first team was bait.”

The Cheeto guy smiled as soon as he swallowed. “The guy, uh, Blackguard. Made several phone calls to one of the head guys of the Corto Maltese army and had all of them waiting at the beach-”

“That is enough,” Waller said, voice cutting through the air before she turned and faced you again as her subordinate all but cowered at his desk at the simple reprimand.

But he had one last thing to say. “He also made a lot of phone calls to someone in Gotham—which is weird because he’s from Central City.”

You were going to vomit.

The large screens at the front of the room displayed a map of the tiny island nation and the ‘status’ of all the squad members. Red bars were across most of them—DEAD. In big letters, four terrible letters. And your heart clenched when you realized Boomer was among the dead.

You were definitely going to vomit.

And across Harley and Rick’s pictures was a word just as terrible. MISSING

“Get her out of here,” Waller said, cutting through the buzzing of your mind.

Someone grabbed at your arm and tried to haul you back out but you pushed back, digging your elbow between the person’s ribs and rounding on Waller as the faceless person let out a grunt and dropped their grip. “You set him up! You killed all of them!”

“Get her out of here!” Waller repeated and you watched a few of the agents’ faces pull tight, uncomfortable with the entire situation. Some turned back to their own computers and tasks, others only turned away from you as another set of hands wrapped around your arms and started to drag you from the room.

“Don’t make this worse,” someone whispered in your ear.

You glanced at the person hauling you outside to see some nondescript office worker, his thin lips set in a firm line. “How could I possibly make this worse?”

The man’s eyes connected with yours as you slowed to a stop in the hallway and the door snapped shut behind you. His warm, slightly sweaty hands dropped from your arms and he took a step back. “Listen. We like Rick. We do. We’ll try to get him back.”

You felt the snarl growing on your face before you could stop it—and you weren’t sure if would actually want to. These people spent their days taking bets on who would make it off the missions alive. You’d heard the whispers through the halls on your first day. The complete lack of care for the people you had fed and cared for. They were just pawns to be bet on and discarded. Like you. “I fucking doubt it.”

You slammed your locker shut and hoisted the strap of your purse over your shoulder. The rest of the day had dragged on slowly and you had nearly set the kitchen on fire when you turned the television on and coverage about the coup in Corto Maltese had been splashed across almost every news station. Half hoping, half dreading, you had tried to spot Harley’s multi-colored hair or Rick’s tac vest in the crowd shots. And you never saw them.

All it earned you was an ever-growing ache in your chest and burnt potatoes. You managed to salvage dinner and wave off the few questions you were asked by a handful of well-meaning inmates who wondered why you were so out of it, telling them you were just tired, and actually left all of the clean up to the crew coming in for once.

You fished Rick’s keys out of your purse and turned toward the door, readying to go home and figure out what the fuck you were going to do now, when you are met with the sight of a skittish office chump. She looked more than a bit frazzled as she crooked her finger at you.

You weren’t buying it. “What?”

“Just…just follow me.”

So, you did, following her up the stairs again and into Rick’s office. You paused at the door, watching her flutter around his computer like she had done it plenty of times before—and perhaps she did. This wasn’t your world. Secret missions and espionage. That was Rick’s world—that was this woman’s world, in her own way. But she seemed a bit too jumpy to be of much help. Her eyes kept glancing over at you and then at the small window that looked out into the hallway. She was clacking away at the keyboard before she sighed and ran a hand down her face before she waved you forward.

You didn’t move.

“I… we…” she was struggling. Wonderful. You were trying not to die or set that little office Waller called ‘home base’ on fire and this woman was struggling. “We know about you and Flag,” the words spilled out from between her lips almost too quickly for you to understand them. “He talks about you like…all the time when Waller isn’t in the room. This mission has gone sideways in every single way and we just…want to say sorry.” She patted the back of Rick’s chair and the smallest trace of a smile pushed at her lips. “I set up his computer so you can see everything we see. I promise you—we’ll try everything we can to get him back.”

“Why.” The word was dry on your tongue as you finally stepped inside. “Why did she have to send him first?”

The other woman winced for the umpteenth time. “He…uh…made fun of her shirt.”

“I beg your fucking pardon.”

“Pride is Waller’s vice and apparently the shirt he thought made her look like a clown was designer or something. I don’t know! But she wanted him at least hurt so she put him with the least capable team she could put together without outright telling him she wanted him dead.”

You were dealing with an ex-boyfriend who wanted to lock you in a cage, your missing Colonel, the fact that several of your friends were dead or missing, and Waller’s apparent raging ego. Fucking fantastic. But you sat in the squeaky chair and looked at the screen. Several different windows were open, some with some more decipherable than others.

“Just, uh, don’t let Waller know we did this.”

“I know how to keep a secret,” you murmured before telling her ‘thank you’ and watching her close the door as she left. Turning back to the screens, you tried to make sense of it all, trying to believe that Rick was fine. That he’d be home and in your arms by the time the sun set tomorrow. “Shit.”

You must’ve fallen asleep at the desk because you were suddenly jolted back to the world of the living by a loud, screeching beep and the screen flashing in front of your face. And you quickly found you loved the noise.

Rick’s picture had been labeled ALIVE and you could see the beautiful rhythm of his heart on one of the screens and you traced over it with your finger with a wobbly smile. “Hi there, Colonel.”

For a few blessedly quiet moments, all you could see was his steady heartbeat. He was alive and you were safe. For now, something whispered. For now.

But eventually you knew you had to get to work. Rick had once offhandedly mentioned that he kept a spare office key in one of his drawers and you opened the first drawer on your left and had to stop the huff of a laugh you felt bubbling in your throat. Inside was a tiny pad of paper, filled with Rick’s uneven chicken scratch—and it at the top of the first scrap of paper was your name. It was followed by a stream of bulleted notes.

Likes hot chocolate the best smile in the world always smells so good likes gramma’s french toast! Try to make it again—don’t fuck it up ring size 7? Maybe? Mentioned something about venice. Look into tickets.

On and on it went and you pressed the pad of paper against your chest and let yourself smile, even as tears stung at the back of your eyes again. Your gentle Rick.

You eventually found the keys and locked the door on your way out before washing your face in the sink in the locker room and switched into a cleaner uniform you’d left hanging in your locker. The time in the kitchen was a bit of a blur and you barely registered the eggs benedict you cooked and handed out before you scurried back into Rick’s office to monitor everything you could see on his computer screen.

His heartbeat jumped a time or two and then something at the bottom of one of the screens let you know that all communications had been jammed. The Corto Maltese army had been busy, it seemed.

“Come back to me,” you murmured at the screen as the monitor of his heartbeat went grey and UNAVAILABLE replaced it. “Come back.” All of them were unavailable. Little Cleo, Robert, Harley—who was still missing and not presumed dead just yet, quiet Abner, that giant shark with legs (whose name was Nanaue, apparently), and…Peacemaker. All of them were still alive. For now.

Those two terrible words. For now.

You just hoped it would still be the same when you came back from your lunch shift.

And it was. His readings were still unavailable but they weren’t labeled as DEAD in terrible read and white letters. It was almost a win. How pathetic. Dinner followed much the same way with Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes and very little movement on those terrible screens but you once again settled in for a mostly-sleepless night. A handful of hours passed without much fanfare and you unintentionally fell asleep, tossing and turning in that terrible office chair until the computer once again gave an awful screech and you nearly slammed your face into the sharp edge of the desk as you jerked awake.

Everyone’s vital signs were a riot of colors and hills and jumps. Something was wrong.

None of the cameras were picking up anything worthwhile but you did feel a bit of relief when you realized Harley’s vitals were once again displayed instead of that horrid grey box. But you found very little solace in how everything seemed to be going to shit. The shitty speakers on Rick’s computer were crackling with someone that sounded like Rick yelling for something but the speakers were shot and you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

And then you were up and bolting out of Rick’s office and toward the so-called home base of the squad. The door slammed open as you shoved your way in and you were greeted with absolute chaos. Just the mess you had left back on Rick’s computers, their screens were a messy lightshow and people were yelling—Waller was yelling into the microphone, her fingers hovering over a switch with Harley’s picture over it, and the other office workers were trying to argue for Harley’s life, and there was a fucking STARFISH the size of a building running through the city.

And then one of the other women in the room charged at Waller and whacked her over the head with a fucking golf club.

But that wasn’t what you saw. Not Waller crumpling to the ground. Not how everyone in the office seemed to move as a unit, providing locations and statistics and ideas to take the creature down. Not the literal wave of rats moving over the city rubble. Not the Starfish getting what looked like a javelin through its giant eye. None of that.

What you saw…were the terrible red and white letters stamped over Rick’s picture. DEAD

You don’t even remember how you got back to Rick’s apartment. A glance out of the window let you know you had double parked at the back of the lot but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything. Well, that wasn’t true.

Rick.

Your good, sweet, gentle Rick.

Almost unconsciously, you reached back to grab at his pillow and you smashed your face into it with your first sob, letting his familiar scent engulf you as you screamed and wept and raged until you were spent of tears and your throat was raw. But Rick’s scent still burned in your nose as you let the pillow fall to your lap.

You sniffled and wiped at your cheeks before glancing at the clock. Okay. You’d given yourself two hours to cry. Now it was time to leave. Compartmentalize. Plan. Execute. You’d done it before. You could do it again, even with the new gaping hole in your chest.

You shoved your clothes into a bag, stuffed on top of the false bottom of the duffel which hid the stacks of cash you still had, and went to the kitchen to grab a few knives and the gun you’d stashed behind the bleach under the sink. And then the other gun Rick had hidden behind the frozen vegetables in the freezer. The weapons didn’t exactly fit in your bag but you made due as you hefted it over your shoulder and walked toward the front door. You pulled open the little catch-all drawer, knowing you kept your phone charger in there, and Rick kept a spare box of ammunition, and you retrieved both before your eyes caught something else.

You didn’t have time for this.

You didn’t. You didn’t. You didn’t.

But you still reached out and grabbed the small polaroid that had been smooshed beneath all the crap you and Rick had thrown into the drawer without noticing.

You were standing in the kitchen, hands filled with the pasta you were about to pull. “Rick, no! One teaspoon—not a tablespoon!” You were laughing as he tried to measure out the necessary salt for the sauce you were trying to teach him how to make. But he had been sneaking kisses and distracting you more than actually trying to cook. He hadn’t found the complicated dish all that entertaining and you’d had to start over on trying to separate the pasta dough twice already—they were probably going to be too chewy to be good but-

“Smile, darlin’!”

There was a bright flash just as Rick pressed a kiss to your temple.

The picture was a little crumpled at the corner but it was still… it was still beautiful. You don’t even know where he’d grabbed the camera from or why, but the picture existed just the same. You, covered in flour with goopy, half-formed noodles in your hands, and Rick, smiling with half-made sauce smeared across his cheek as he kissed you. You were both smiling, eyes closed. You were happy.

Your eyes stung as you carefully slipped it into the pocket of your purse beside your phone. For just a moment, you looked back at the apartment. It had been home. It had been your haven for a few short, wonderful months. And with a flick of your finger, you turned off the light and closed the door, locking it behind you. It was time to go.

The road was clear at this time of night—of course it was. It was still a few hours before dawn and you were in the middle of nowhere. You were pretty sure you just crossed over the state line into Tennessee but you hardly gave any notice to much more than the speed limit signs and even those were more of guidelines than rules right now.

You’d texted Luke when Louisiana was in your rear view mirror, telling him that you would call him again when you found another place to settle. And you told Bruce that Todd had found you and you were running. I still have your number—wrote it down. I did promise to keep in touch.

And then you threw your phone out the window after clearing it of its data. If Todd had your number, you were safe to assume he was throwing money at someone to track it. You weren’t going to give him a head start on finding you. And while it felt like stealing, you took Rick’s truck instead of your little car, knowing that the plate number wouldn’t give you away if Todd somehow managed to track you through the roadside cameras at toll booths and the like.

In his own way, even now, Rick was keeping you safe.

And that was definitely not what you wanted to be thinking about so you turned up the bubblegum pop song on the radio and sang along with it even when you felt the tears at the back of your throat trying to choke the air from your lungs. You could cry later. Not now.

You drove until the sun came up and then drove another handful of hours after that, too, only stopping for gas twice and to buy an energy drink from a disgruntled gas station employee. But eventually, you pulled into the all but deserted parking lot of a small roadside motel. It was the first one in the last two hundred miles that didn’t look like it had cockroaches and bedbugs so you hoped for the best as you swung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out of the truck.

The miniscule lobby was straight out of the eighties but was clean and the older woman behind the front desk was kind even after spotting the handle of the gun poking out of the top of your bag and only nodded when you requested you pay in cash, keeping your card off the books.

“I’ve had stranger requests, dear. Don’t you fret. Dial zero on the room phone if you need anything.” She even patted your hand as she handed over the keycard before pointing you toward the unfortunately colored elevator doors.

The room was clean but clearly a relic of the past and the bed squeaked as you set your bag on the edge. But you had slept in worse. This was temporary. Just a night or two until you… Until you what, exactly? Until you found another dark hole to hide in? Would you find another haven?

You pushed the small desk in front of the door and hid one of the guns beneath the pillow. You pulled your pajamas from your bag and snapped the thin curtain shut as the dying light of the day filled the room with a yellow glow. After washing your face in the tiny sink, you opened your bag to retrieve your pajamas but stopped as your hand found purchase on a familiar shirt. It was Rick’s. Of course it was, because luck was either trying to give you a little bit of kick in the teeth or had made sure you kept another piece of Rick with you. The shirt must have stuck to yours in the dryer and you hadn’t noticed when you grabbed your clean clothes.

It didn’t smell like him when you pulled it up to your face and buried your nose in it. It still smelt of the laundry detergent you convinced Rick to start using instead of the generic powder he used to use that left his skin itchy. (He had admitted that fact with a bit of pink in his cheeks when you had first asked where you could wash your clothes after he’d had you move into his apartment.) But you could see him wearing it. It was burned into your brain like every smile he had ever given you.

You discarded your own shirt before pulling on Rick’s and climbing under the starchy sheets that smelled like medical-grade bleach. At least you knew they were clean. You shut your eyes with the sun still trying to hide below the horizon and that was when the tears came again.

You stared at the map like it would suddenly grow a mouth and tell you where to go.

Metropolis was out of the question. Luke and Artie were safe, for now, and you wouldn’t let Todd find them again. The night you’d spent in Star City had quickly soured after someone attempted to steal Rick’s truck…as you were sitting in it. While you had grown up on the shittier side of Gotham, most criminals hadn’t been that bold, so you quickly moved on. Big cities were your preferred hiding places—your stint in Louisiana had only happened because of the job and well…look how that turned out.

The tiny diner you’d holed up in this morning had seen its fair share of time and the waitresses seemed to be a caricature from a mob movie but they didn’t ask too many questions and gave you refills without you needing to ask as you looked over the map, trying to make a list of pros and cons for each possible destination.

You rubbed at your temples before taking another swig of your black coffee. Maybe you should get some toast, too. A stomach full of coffee is a recipe for disaster on a normal day—let alone a day when you’re trying not to vomit from stress. You flagged down the waitress and asked for toast. She arched an eyebrow at the order but nodded and hollered to the man behind the kitchen window to get it ready before walking away, red heels clacking on the linoleum. And you turned back to the map.

There was a coffee spot over Midway City. Rick had told you about the first mission the Squad had been sent on and you knew the city was large enough to get lost in, comfortably, even if it was still recovering from the otherworldly threats from a few years ago.

It could work. Yeah. That could work.

You folded the map up and shoved into your purse just as the toast was set onto the stained tabletop in front of you. Muttering a ‘thanks,’ you all but shoved half a piece of greasy bread into your mouth and washed it down with the rest of your mug of coffee. It was quickly refilled as the waitress chomped on her gum before walking away again to flirt with the trucker a few booths over.

Just as you shoved the last bit of crust between your lips, you raised your hand for the check only for someone to wrap their fingers over yours and gently push your hand back down. Chills ran up your spine and you kept your gaze forward as someone walked around your table and sat in front of you. Your next breath rushed out of you.

“DuBois?”

“Hello, honey.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before confused and angry tears stung at your eyes and you finally hissed out, “what the fuck?”

He simply pat the hand he continued to hold, a small smile on his face. “You were hard to find. That’s good.”

Oh, you did not like that. You did not like that at all. That sounded like someone who was hunting.

As you bit back your tears and straightened your shoulders, you nearly begged, “please don’t do this, Robert. Please.”

He cocked his head to the side, brow pinching just a touch. “Do what?”

“I don’t know how the fuck you got out from under Waller’s thumb but—please, I am begging you—do not do this. Whatever Todd’s paying you-”

He tapped your hand again as his other fist covered his mouth. It almost looked like he was smiling. “I’m not working for anybody named Todd. Now,” he said, standing up, “pay for your shitty coffee and toast. We need to go.”

Your hands shook as you pulled out a few bills that more than covered your tab and you placed them in a neat pile beneath your mug and followed Robert out of the diner. It would be stupid to run, wouldn’t it? You might have been able to out run Todd, but Robert was the man who put Superman in the ICU and countless others in the ground. He was raised to be a killer. Efficient and deadly. He wasn’t a psychopath born with a silver spoon between his lips.

And you thought he had once been a friend.

You tried to stop the tears you felt stinging your eyes again as you noticed an unfamiliar SUV triple parked, blocking in Rick’s truck from the corner parking spot you’d taken when you had arrived.

The door opened and a familiar face nearly had you stumbling over nothing with your next step.

“Hiya, babydoll.”

And then Harley was all but charging toward you and wrapping you in a tight hug, smashing her cheek against yours and basically nuzzling you like a kitten.

“What the fuck.” The tears were blurring your vision now as your arms limply encircled the other woman’s waist in an echo of a hug. What the hell was happening. More people appeared from the SUV, either stepping outside or rolling down the windows just enough for you to recognize them. There was Cleo and Abner and that giant fucking bipedal shark, half hidden beneath a blanket in the cramped backseat.

Harley pulled back and patted your cheek, her smile still growing wider. “You smell like shitty coffee and gasoline.”

“Stop being mean, Quinn. Get her in the car. We’re running late.”

Harley grasped your hands and squeezed, dragging you toward the SUV, not even noticing when you tripped over a loose chunk of asphalt before pushing you inside and letting Abner and Cleo slide in beside you. They both murmured soft greetings and Sebastian even curled on your lap for a quick nap before the door even closed. Harley claimed the passenger seat as DuBois slid into the driver’s side before turning the key over in the ignition and pulling away.

“I would get us there faster, y’know,” Harley said as she turned to Robert.

“You nearly killed all of us on the way here. Your driving privileges are revoked,” Robert said as he pulled out of the parking lot, turn signal beeping softly.

“You’re no fun.”

“So, you still work for Waller,” you said, trying to put the pieces together as they bickered. Waller was the only viable option, truly. If Todd wasn’t the bankroller of this, she was. And the presence of the few remaining members of the ‘squad’ only bolstered your hypothesis.

But Robert’s dark gaze met yours as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Waller has nothing to do with this.” But soon he and Harley were once again fighting over who was the better driver so you just shut your eyes, pressing the back of your head into the leather headrest behind you.

The drive itself could have been a few hours, if you were being honest, or only a few short minutes. But time didn’t seem all that linear when you were stuck in the confines of the SUV, surrounded by criminals and a giant shark—even if Cleo and Abner fell asleep almost as soon as the side road merged onto the interstate. Eventually, the Robert pulled to a stop in front of a high rise, continued to fight with Harley, and then told everyone else to get out, too. Cleo slid out of her seat, eyes still a bit hooded from her interrupted nap, and gently grasped your hand with a smile as Sebastian skittered up to perch on her shoulder. Again, you knew it was stupid to resist. Your knees knocked together as your feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot but you carried on, following behind the still-squabbling Harley and Robert with Cleo still grasping your wrist in a soft grip. In front of you was a shining high rise—it took you a moment to realize you had definitely left the sketchy outskirts of the city and had somehow wound up in the business district…or the rich-people district. Whatever.

“I come?” The large shark man…Nanaue asked from the backseat.

“Not just yet, my friend,” Cleo said to him with a smile. “We will come back for you. I promise.”

The shark nodded and once again threw the thin blanket over his head before the SUV doors were shut.

The man at the front desk of the building all but cowered behind his shining computer screen after spotting Harley who cackled at the reaction before resuming her argument with Robert as you were all shepherded into the elevator. Someone punched the number for floor forty-two and the doors slid shut with a soft tone before starting its ascent. You closed your eyes, listening to them all chatter and argue and squabble while Sebastian squeaked softly to Cleo who hummed in return. They weren’t acting like they wanted to kill you or wanted to deliver to someone who wanted to kill you (probably slowly). If anything, they were acting exactly like they did back at Belle Reeve. And that made it worse.

The elevator slowed to a soft stop and Abner gently nudged you forward when you didn’t move to follow the rest of the group out into the marble-covered hallway. His smile was small, as it always had been, but you noticed the dark bruising on his cheek and the cut above his brow now, too. He was lucky to have survived the showdown with the giant starfish-alien-thing with just a bit of superficial damage.

God. You hated this.

They were all laughing and joking and arguing as if this were just another day—a good day, actually. Maybe they were all just so accustomed to loss. It isn’t as if their lives really gave them stability… or at least that is what you told yourself when you bit back the wave of white-hot anger you felt boiling beneath your skin. The group took a few steps out into the hallway before Robert abruptly turned and held out a key card toward you.

You stared down at the white bit of plastic with a frown. “What is it?”

“Just go on inside, honey. We’ve got another room down the hall.”

That answered nothing and you continued to stare at the card even as you felt more traitorous tears sting your eyes. Keeping your head bowed, you took the key and slid it into the slot, watching the little light at the top flash from red to green, and then pushed the door open. It took you a moment to realize that you were in some sort of high end, long-stay hotel. Everything was in washes of grey and moss green and sharp corners. Pain bloomed up your side as you accidentally walked into the edge of a table in the entryway when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror hanging just inside the doorway.

You looked tired. Sad. It was glaringly apparent that you had been crying recently…and surviving on mostly coffee and diner food.

And you weren’t sure what you were supposed to see in this quiet suite, but you shuffled forward on the plush carpeting toward the main room and tried to brace for something awful just around the corner. Todd. Or one of his goons. Or Amanda Waller. Something awful. Someone or something you’d have to fight-

“Rick?”

You froze as you saw him on the bed. The blankets were pulled up to his chest and he…definitely looked worse for wear but he was breathing. He was alive. A mound of pillows was keeping him a little upright on the oversized bed and you could see molted bruising turning brown and yellow on his face and fading further down his neck before disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

You walked slowly, almost as if you were afraid that a sudden movement would have him disappearing in front of your eyes, and sat on the edge of the bed. Rick’s hand was warm beneath yours, even as your fingers shook. “Hi Colonel,” you whispered. A bit of his dark blond hair had fallen over his forehead and you instinctively pushed it back, mindful of the small butterfly bandage across his brow.

His unfairly long lashes fluttered just as you pulled back and unfocused honey-brown eyes looked up at you. And soon a lopsided smile was pressing at the corners of his lips. “Hi, darling,”

For the umpteenth time that day, tears stung at your eyes. But this time you let them track down your cheeks. It felt like your heart was trying to burst out of your chest as you carefully framed his face with your hands and leaned forward to press your lips to his, noses bumping in the process but neither of you cared.

He was alive. Your Rick was alive.

“Why’re you cryin’? I’m okay, I’m okay, darlin’. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t,” you said, words sliding against his mouth as you pressed another kiss to his mouth before you pulled back and wiped at your cheeks with limited success. “I saw you—I-I saw you die, Rick.” His brows furrowed and he sat up a little straighter in the bed with a grunt that had you scrambling to try to find where he was hurt, to try to ease the pain.

“I am alive-”

“Yes, I see that,” you said with a hiccup, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

“The doc said I knocked something loose—either when Peacemaker was trying to cave my face in or when the building collapsed-”

“The building collapsed?!” You asked, voice rising several octaves.

But Rick simply smiled, bruised skin crinkling around his eyes. “Yeah, darling. But it’s okay.”

“No, no, it isn’t, Rick. I saw your heartrate stop. I…” More tears came and spilled down your cheeks to soak the collar of your shirt. “You died. I had to watch you die.”

“I didn’t die. I’m right here.” He moved again and then yanked his shirt over his head before you could stop him. His chest was covered in more bruises, all in varying shades of purple and brown and yellow. It looked like he had been run over—several times. But then your gaze zeroed in on the center of his chest and the necklace that still hung there. The pendant was caved in and had started to crack, the feather obliterated except for a few bits of black paint and—and Rick had a giant bruise blooming in the center of his chest. Right over his heart. Rick reached out and grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart with a small smile. “Feel that?”

You did. You felt the soft thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm and the warmth of his bruised skin. He was here. With you. And you could only nod to answer his question as your throat tightened with more tears as you scooted just a bit closer to him on the bed.

“You were right, darlin’. This little necklace was good luck.” He tapped the pendant with his free hand, his smile growing. “It saved me. You saved me.”

You sobbed and all but climbed on top of him, pressing your face into the small bit of skin that wasn’t bruised where his shoulder met his neck. His strong arms instantly wrapped around you as you continued to cry—in relief and in exhaustion. He was in your arms and you were in his.

Again and again, Rick whispered, “I’m here. I’m okay.”

And that was all you needed right now.

“Aw, look how cute they are,” Harley’s unmistakable voice cut through the haze of your mind.

You must have fallen asleep sometime after crawling on top of Rick like a human blanket because when you opened your eyes, still heavy with the first truly restful bit of sleep you’d had since before left Rick for the island, it was dark outside the hotel’s window. But Harley was standing at the foot of the bed with the rest of the squad behind her. To their credit, it looked like almost everyone was uncomfortable with being in the room, too.

Except for Cleo who was smiling. “They are in love.”

“If we don’t move,” Rick murmured, “they might not know we’re awake.”

You shut your eyes again with a smile and let yourself gently fall back against his shoulder. “Great plan.”

“We have dinner,” Cleo said.

“Food!” Boomed another voice.

One of your eyes opened at that and you just now realized that Nanaue was also in the room, towering over the rest of them. And Robert and Abner’s arms were filled with bags of food that did smell pretty good so, you drummed your fingers against Rick’s arm before pressing a quick, soft kiss against his jaw. “They’ve come with bribes, Colonel. We should at least hear them out.”

All of you eventually circled up on the floor with the heaps of junk food settled in a small mountain in the center. Robert told you about how he technically owned two of the rooms at hotel-cum-long-stay high rise under one of his pseudonyms, and that was why Waller (or any of the other various law enforcement agencies who knew exactly who Bloodsport was) didn’t have them seized. He also called in a favor with a doctor who owed him “more than one,” in his own words, to check Rick over when they arrived.

“Peacemaker,” Robert said, nearly growling out the name as he munched on a handful of fries, “apparently dislodged the monitoring chip Flag here had imbedded beneath his skin when they were having their little tussle.”

You nodded between bites of a burger. Rick had told you what had happened on the island, of the ambush, Blackguard’s betrayal, the Thinker and his terrible experiments, and how the US government had been funding them all—a fact that Waller wanted hidden by any means necessary. Peacemaker had been her contingency plan. It made your stomach roll. And you knew that Rick still felt a bit of anger at not being able to show the world the truth of what happened. But his team had saved him from the rubble of the building so he wouldn’t jeopardize their freedom. It all made a twisted sort of sense—as did the doctor retrieving the small explosives from everyone’s necks before scurrying away. Each of them had little, pink bandages on the backs of their necks, printed with Disney Princesses. It made you smile. “What happened to Christopher?” You asked.

“Hungry,” Nanaue said.

“Yes, my friend. You were hungry,” Cleo said with a laugh, handing the shark-man his own bucket of fried chicken.

Your burger froze halfway to your mouth before you rationalized that Nanaue needed to eat and the hulk of a man Peacemaker used to be could have possibly kept him fed for at least a day or two. And it was a fitting end for such a terrible man.

Rick was sipping on a vanilla milkshake beside you and curled his other hand over yours on the plush carpet. The doctor had told him he’d be more than a little sore for a few days—broken ribs and pulmonary contusion to his left lung weren’t exactly quick-healing injuries. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

You only squeezed his hand in return. Soon, the conversation steered toward your cross-country escapades.

“You’d make a good getaway driver, babycakes,” Harley said, patting your cheek with a proud smile on her face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You absolutely will not,” Rick grumbled.

“Rick made us promise to find you after we landed and we were told you didn’t show up for your shift in the kitchen,” Abner said, still ever so quiet.

It made Rick’s cheeks pink just the slightest bit as he continued to sip on his shake when you looked at him.

“You definitely made it difficult,” Robert groused. “It took us a couple of days to realize you’d taken Rick’s truck. And that had a tracker on it.”

“Waller again?” You asked.

But this time Rick shook his head. “No, that was all me. I had a car stolen fresh out of the academy. I promised myself it would never happen again.” His honey-colored eyes connected with yours and he smiled. “Best hundred bucks I’ve ever spent.”

“Sorry I put like twenty thousand miles on your truck.”

But he only shook his head again. “I’m just glad you were safe.”

And you must have been look at each other a little too lovingly because Harley threw a taco at you. It managed to slap both you and Rick in the face. “You two are disgusting. I love it.”

You laughed and lobbed the taco back at her but she caught it gracefully before wrapping it and taking a healthy bite. Finally. It was good night.

Rick was getting a little antsy in the suite but you did try to keep him occupied and distracted while he continued to heal and the rest of the squad also recuperated in the larger suite down the hall or started reaching out to old contacts for jobs. You managed to usually to keep Rick preoccupied with pay-per-view movies but when that started to fail, you resorted to making him blush when you produced the little list you had discovered back at his apartment.

And after the soft blushes turned into softer touches, you felt him tugging at the hem of your shirt and you happily let him pull it off and throw it to the foot of the bed. His quickly followed. His rough, warm hands grasped at your face as he licked into your mouth with his next kiss and you sat back on his lap, starting to slowly circle your hips against his, still mindful of his injuries. A soft groan pushed past his lips and you felt his hands slide down to your hips and squeeze, pulling you down a little tighter against his quickly hardening cock.

Heat swelled between your hips before blooming through the rest of your body as he continue to all but devour you with his slick lips. Rick tugged at the waist of your sweatpants and you shifted just enough to pull them off, one leg at a time, as Rick pulls down his boxers just enough to free his cock before you once again take your place astride his thighs. Your hand grasps him and he sighs against your mouth as his hand anchors around the back of your neck. You pumped him a few times before shifting just enough to rise above him and then sink down, letting the familiar burn and stretch of him wash over you as you slid down until your hips slotted against his. It was all slow and deep with your forehead rested against his while his hands again moved to your hips, guiding you back and forth, back and forth, before his thumb pressed down on your clit, making your breath stutter in your lungs.

The warmth you had felt blooming had only ratcheted up in intensity with each slow drag of your hips, feeling every ridge and plane of his cock inside you. Rick leant down just enough to press almost-biting kisses against the tops of your breast and you pushed your fingers through his hair, urging him closer—needing him closer.

On and on, you tasted his mouth and he licked at your skin until you were not sure where you stopped and he began. But it was perfect and he was in your arms again.

“I love you,” Rick said as he looked up at you, his eyes shining in the low light and cheeks flushed. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered back before pressing your lips against his in another kiss as the slowly coiling thread unraveled and you shook with your release just as you felt Rick seize against you with his own release. It quickly started to dampen your thighs but you didn’t move, only leaning forward to kiss him again. “I love you,” you whispered one more time. “I should have told you sooner.”

“We’ve got time now,” he murmured, one hand moved to trail up and down your spine before he stole another kiss. “But I do like to hear you say it.”

“So, we might have a teeny-tiny-little problem,” Harley said, bursting into your and Rick’s room the next morning, egg sandwich in one hand, gun in another.

“Harley, what the fuck.”

You poked Rick in the ribs, now only covered in the barest traces of his bruises, without opening your eyes. Being woken up by one of the Squad coming into your rooms was a common enough occurrence; you were basically used to it by now. Rick was not. “What’s the problem, Harley?”

She flopped onto the bed with a sigh and scratched at her temple with the muzzle of the gun. “Well, ya see, you know how we sent some people down to Louisiana to get everything out of your apartment?” That was putting the convoluted mission in its simplest terms. The plan had been to have some of Harley’s ‘acquaintances’ (whom she said she trusted so you tried not to balk at the names she listed) down to the apartment and pack it all up without being seen—that was true. But they were also supposed plant a bug in Belle Reeve’s computer system, wiping everything Waller might have stored with Rick or your name on it. It was just a precaution—neither of you wanted Waller tracking you down ever. But Rick had told you that his contract had ended with ARGUS two years ago, it was now just Waller pulling the strings. If those strings didn’t exist anymore, neither did Rick’s obligation.

“What happened?”

“Well, your apartment was on fire, Flag. Hate to break it to ya. But the bug was planted! Your little agreement with Waller, which was filled with legal loopholes by the way, is kaput.”

Rick’s answering sigh had you hiding a laugh as you turned to press your face into his chest. “What else?”

“Oh, right. Apparently, someone tipped off Timothy-”

“Todd.”

“-that you ran off and now he’s quadrupled the money he’s offering to anyone who brings you in alive.”

That dried the laughter on your tongue immediately. Well, this reprieve from the real world had been beautiful while it lasted. When you went to sit up, Rick’s lips brushed against your forehead. “Breathe, darlin’. It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, also,” Harley continued, still basically star-fished at the foot of the bed, “one of my guys said that Tyson was heading this way.”

“Todd.”

“Fuck.”

It took a few hours for you to get everyone back in the suite from doing whatever the fuck they were out doing but while you waited, you sat with Rick and tried to steel yourself to the plan you knew you had to make.

Rick listed all the ways he and the squad could make Todd go away but you wouldn’t ever ask that of your friends. They’d done enough already. And while you didn’t want to ask this of Rick, you knew he would never let you do this alone.

“We can take the fight to him.”

“What?” Rick bit out the word with a frown.

You shook your head. “I’m tired of running. I stole his money and ran. And then I found you—I found all of you. But then I thought I lost you and I ran again.” You reached out and placed a hand against his cheek. “I can’t do it. Not again.”

“Darlin’, I’m not asking you to run. I’m just asking you to think this through. You already have his money, we can go anywhere. We can go get your brother and nephew and take them with us. We can-”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to run anymore. It isn’t a life—and I want to have a life. I want to wake up in the morning without worrying about if someone is lurking in a dark corner. I want to hug my brother and nephew again without painting a target on their backs. I want to not be paid in cash because putting my name on a bank account is too traceable.” You sighed and shook your head, pulling your hand away from his cheek. “I want to teach you actually how to cook or just give up and let you make me your grandmother’s French toast because you know it makes me smile.” Rick huffed a laugh and you had to fight a smile of your own as he was the one to reach out this time, twining his fingers with yours. “I just want a life. I want to live. With you,” you added with a small smile. “If that’s okay.”

Rick’s grip on your hand tightened before he reached out to gently grasped the back of your neck, pulling you forward just enough to kiss you. He reached up and took the necklace off before carefully sliding it over your head. He righted the dented pendant between your breasts before his fingers ghosted over the chain to make sure the clasp was toward the back and you watched him smile when he caught your shiver. “You protected me, now I want to protect you.”

“Having you with me is more than enough. I know it. This time I won’t be alone.”

When your ragtag group of (former-ish) super villains finally made their way back to the suite, you told them that you and Rick were going back to Gotham to put an end to the Todd problem and you offered them each a large stack of cash to help them get back on their metaphorical feet-

-and it was quickly refused by each of them. (Well, Cleo refused on behalf of Nanaue who then nodded and said, “help friends!”)

And that was that.

Gotham hadn’t changed, not really. There were a few new skyscrapers and more scaffolding and a few of the storefronts had changed but it was still Gotham. It was still all dark stone and shining glass and steaming sewer grates. It was the closest place to home you ever had…before Rick.

“It so good to be home,” Harley said, spinning in a circle on the sidewalk, long hair spinning out around her in a messy, multicolored halo. You belatedly realized that the hulking shape behind you garnered very few double takes from passersby. Truly, the people of Gotham had almost seen it all.

The cramped drive in the SUV had been filled with trying to create a plan and you all mostly succeeded—it did take a few hours to get Harley to agree to not blow up his entire apartment building but it was a…plan. A semi-solid plan.

Because Gotham was Gotham, you were able to find a hotel that didn’t blink at the shark at your back or the Queen of Gotham at your side and happily accepted your stack of cash before pointing you toward the elevator and telling you the penthouse was all yours for the weekend. It was quickly stacked with guns from one of Harley’s stashes and several other weapons from Robert’s Gotham stash, too. (And no, you did not ask how many stashes he had around the world because you truly did not want to know.)

And in a weird way, it made you smile, to know you had people who cared about you enough to kill for you. It was their blood-filled love language.

But either way, the plan was solidified fairly quickly. You would reach out to Todd yourself and tell him that you were scared and wanted to talk. Playing the part of sniveling damsel wasn’t your favorite but it would work. The trap was set at the restaurant you used to work at—you’d lure him in after hours and pretend to beg and plead for him to leave Luke and Artie alone while everyone else surrounded him in the shadows.

He would be dealt with. Quietly.

It was more courteous than he deserved but Rick told you that it was better to keep everything regulated to the shadows when dealing with someone like Todd. A pompous, rich asshole.

Robert’s contacts had told you that morning that Todd was probably two days’ drive away from Gotham. He hadn’t responded to your text aside from a short ready when you are sweetness so you knew everything was slowly being slotted into its place.

“How’re you feeling?” Rick asked as you readied for bed that night.

You dried your face with a smile and then pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. “I’m good, Colonel. Ready for all of this to be over.” You turned and pressed your hip against the bathroom counter. “I wanna show you everything this crazy city has to offer.”

“Besides you?” He asked, leaning down with a smile of his own to press a kiss against your lips.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

And when you crawled into the overly soft bed in your and Rick’s designated room in the large penthouse and curled under Rick’s arm, you thought of the future you could have with Rick after this was over. No more missions. No more running. No more secret PO boxes and burner phones. No more running. Just you and Rick and the world at your feet. It made you smile again and you let Rick’s steady heartbeat lull you into a restful night’s rest.

The next day was filled with last minute details and showing Cleo around the restaurant and its back alleys so she could know where to stand and familiarize herself with the cities rat population while everyone else scoped out their own hiding places. “They’re very agitated here,” she mused.

You hummed and nodded. The din from the kitchen reached your ears even as you traipsed through the wide alley behind the restaurant and you felt a bit of a frown forming on your lips. That had been your life. You had scraped your way up the terrible, dog-eat-dog restaurant ladder to finally become Sous Chef—not even head chef, which was still a bitter pill—only for some guy to rip it away from you.

“You are sad,” Cleo murmured, pulling you from your reverie. Sebastian was perched on her shoulder as usual, but even his little eyes were trained on you. “Is it because you no longer work here? It is a beautiful restaurant. Colonel Flag told me you helped make this restaurant successful.”

You shrugged, feeling a small smile push at your lips. Rick would say that. “It’s in the past. Can’t change it now.”

Cleo nodded and Sebastian squeaked. “But now you have Colonel Flag—and he makes you smile, too, no?”

“Yes, yes, he does.” And Rick did—and you were sure he would until the sun burnt out. But you were human and melancholy still bit at you so you excused yourself for just a moment as Cleo tested out her tech on a particularly rambunctious nest of rats near one of the dumpsters. You traced the well-worn brick with your fingers down the familiar alley and around the corner, finding yourself beside the employees’ entrance without thinking about it. With a sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned against the wall. You could almost smell the cigarette smoke from Lonny the bus boy and hear the gossip from Sarah the hostess or the grumbling from Frank the sommelier. You wondered if they all still worked here. Or if they had gone, too.

And you were so wrapped up in your memories and self-pity that you didn’t hear the quickly approaching footsteps. Pain bloomed across your temple for just a moment and you stumbled just before the world went black.

Wow. You were really making a habit of losing consciousness. Stupendous. Wonderful. Your head seemed to beat in time with your heart as you slowly opened your eyes to find yourself in the dust-covered living room of Todd’s former apartment. It was devoid of any furniture with only the sun-blocking curtains remaining to keep the room in darkness. A chunky bit of cloth had been smashed between your lips while your wrists had been tied to the sides of the uncomfortable chair you were currently sitting on.

And in front of you was…Todd. Standing in the shadows like a creep and smoking a cigarette, the glowing embers casting even more shadows across his face. Todd was still…him. Same designer clothes, same ridiculous haircut and matching sneer of a smile, same cologne you could smell from several feet away. But now you could see a scar ringing around his left eye and twisting down his cheek. It almost gave you a bit of pride to see the little, permanent reminder that you had won. At least once.

And you needed to grasp and hold onto that fact because you could feel that old, familiar fear starting to claw its way around your heart again. You closed your eyes and pulled in a slow breath.

Unlike last time, Luke and Artie were safe. Unlike last time, you had people who would know you were missing. Unlike last time, you had someone who loved you. Really loved you.

You would survive. You needed to.

“You’re quiet,” Todd said, dropping his cigarette to marble floor and snuffing it out under his boot. “You had a lot to say last time I saw you.”

You had a fucking gag in your mouth. Did he really expect you to speak? Whatever. The knot around your left wrist was sloppily tied and you grabbed the end and pulled as much as you could, feeling the knot loosen.

Todd circled your little chair and leaned down just enough to wrap his arms around your shoulders, stinking of his cologne and cigarette smoke. “Did you think you could outsmart me, sweetness? You got lucky one time. It was never going to happen again.” He turned and pressed his face into the side of your face, sucking in a lungful of air and making your skin damp with his breath. “You had your fun—I let you run around and think you weren’t mine. That was kind of me.” His hand traveled down to grope and fondle as you continued to pull against his grasp with gritted teeth against the cloth.

But your wrist was almost free. Almost there. You just needed to let him monologue like he was some sort of James Bond villain. And Todd had always liked the sound of his own voice.

“Of course, you made things exceptionally difficult with bringing in someone like Harley Quinn and that soldier of yours. I will have to have them dealt with; such a shame. Harley refused to give me any information when I found you at that little prison in Louisiana. But someone else did bite.” There was another heady breath against your ear as he pinched something, earning him a grunt as you felt the last bit of the knot loosen around your wrist. “He was so useful. He had an awful pseudonym though—who calls themselves Blackguard?”

With a final tug, your wrist was free. You slammed the back of your head into his face.

Todd stumbled back with a yelp and you turned as you stood, pulling the gag from your mouth before hurriedly untying your other wrist. Just as you got yourself free, Todd charged at you with a yell, tackling you to the hard marble floor, making your skull bounce and your vision swim. Before your eyes even uncrossed, Todd sweaty hands wrapped around your neck and squeezed.

You wheezed with your next breath and grasped at his hands, pulling at his thumbs because Harley had once told you that if you could get a thumb loose, the rest of the hand was useless.

“You stupid bitch. I could have given you everything—you just had to stay in your place.” He was basically spitting out the words between clenched teeth, drool sliding down his chin. “Only had to keep your legs spread and your mouth shut; we could’ve ruled this fucking city.”

Black dots were lining your already hazed vision and you felt your grip on his thumb started to go slack. Your lungs burned. “Fuck…you…” In a last ditch effort to get another lungful of air, you reached out and yanked at the pendant around your neck, snapping the chain before driving the bent piece of metal into his nose.

Todd howled and pulled back, curling in on himself on the marble as you rolled away, coughing and sputtering, trying to pull in air like a drowning woman. Just as your head stopped swimming, Todd reared back and punched you straight across the face, snapping your head to left. Todd laughed as he hit the floor with the force of his punch throwing him forward. But you weren’t done either. You saw the strip of fabric that had been clenched between your teeth and you grabbed it as you stood on unsteady feet, and swung around him, wrapping the thick cord around his neck. He sputtered, and then choked as you pressed a knee between his shoulder blades even as he thrashed in your grip like an angry snake.

“You’ll…never be…free of me…” he bit out, voice a rage-filled whisper.

But you knew better. Todd had once tried to tell you that he was the only one who could ever love you. He cut you off from all your friends and what was left of your family. But you had found love—real love. And your family now had a few supervillains in its ranks. You were free.

You pulled and pulled and pulled until Todd went limp and then held him there for a few more seconds, just to be sure. His body slapped against the marble when you let go of the slip of fabric and you finally took a deep breath as you stared up at the ceiling. Free.

The door to the apartment burst open and Rick and your ragtag team of metahumans filed in, guns blazing and hands bloodied—probably from the pile of dead bodies of guards you saw just outside the door.

Rick was one you in three, long strides, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “Darling, what-”

“Let’s get out of here, Colonel.”

Harley insisted that you both stay in Gotham. And when Bruce learned that you were back in the city, he insisted, too. He also provided the most bloodthirsty attorneys you had ever met to prosecute the still-belligerent Todd. Kidnapping, abuse, attempted murder. It was all tied up in a neat little bow with all the evidence the judge and jury needed to put Todd away for a very long time. It was a bit of a tabloid fanfare to have someone like Harley Quinn on the stand, quickly followed by Bruce Wayne. It almost made you laugh to see the verdict read out. In addition to the guilty verdict that would see him stuck in a cell in Arkham, all of his monetary assets were to be transferred to you as recompense for emotional trauma.

Yes, Bruce had good attorneys.

But Rick was the one who held your hand every day of the trial. He was the one who made you smile when all the horrors in your past were put on display for the world to see. He was the one who kissed you when the verdict had been read out. He was your Rick. Always.

“Come on, darlin’, let’s go home.” He took you by the hand and led you out of the courthouse through a backdoor to help you avoid the onslaught of photogs and reporters stationed at the front—but you heard Harley absolutely delighting in the limelight in her finest pink and red polka dot crop top and bejeweled blazer.

The apartment you shared with Rick was definitely more than enough for the two of you—but it was fun to decorate (the dented pendant was now framed over your fireplace) and the kitchen was large enough that you didn’t need to worry about bumping into Rick when you were (still) trying to teach him how to cook. But he still liked to hover, cage you in against the counter and lathe a series of kisses against your neck while your hands were occupied. And he made you his grandmother’s French toast on the first weekend of every month—you never tired of them. But he still managed to burn every bit of toast.

Harley once again reigned supreme in Gotham while Robert took up residence in a high rise near Amusement Mile with his daughter who you proudly helped get into Gotham’s finest culinary school. Cleo and Nanaue disappeared into the shadows of the city—Cleo appeared at uneven intervals and you were always happy to serve her and Sebastian a hearty meal. Abner took a bookkeeping job with Wayne Enterprises and smiled a little more.

It was good.

You also took a job at Wayne Enterprises—much to the delight of Bruce. You became the head of catering and while it was not nearly as glamorous as Sous Chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant, it allowed you to come home each night at a regular time. A regular time where you could wrap your arms around Rick and press a kiss between his shoulder blades just to feel the rumble of his laugh beneath your lips.

Rick, after managing to evade Waller’s attempts to get him back to Belle Reeve, started his own security business that was starting to thrive.

Yes, it was good.

“How’s my darlin’?” Was Rick’s sleepy question as he turned to you on a late Saturday morning. The bed was warm and the autumn air of Gotham was cool around you. Sunlight was streaming in through the curtains to make Rick’s golden hair nearly sparkle as it messily fell onto his forehead.

“I’m good, Colonel. And you?” You reached out and trailed your finger down his nose to watch him scrunch his face with a laugh.

“I’m perfect.” He shuffled closer to you on the bed to press a kiss to your forehead. “Ready to pick up Luke and Artie from the airport? You’ve just been preparing for their visit for the past month and half.”

You slapped at his chest halfheartedly. “All my guys are finally coming together. I want it to be perfect.”

He kissed you again. “It will be.” But then he turned back to the alarm clock on the bedside table. “We’ve got a couple hours to burn. What do you think we should do?”

You rolled on top of him with a smile and his warm, rough hands immediately settled on your hips. “I have a few ideas.”

You would ask him about the tickets to Venice you found in his sock drawer tomorrow—but you could pretend to have never seen the little box beside them.

A/N: And that’s all she wrote, folks! Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

#rick flag x reader #rick flag imagine #suicide squad imagine #rick flag #tw: domestic violence

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