#I genuinely hadn’t thought of him (or any X-Men characters) in so long though

[jellyjamheadobb]

I forgot how fucking down bad I was for Wolverine when I was a 12 year old

[xreaderbooks]

Two sides (2)

Pair: ACOTAR Azriel x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Summary: Y/N has been in love with Cassian for centuries now, Just how Azriel has been with Mor. Both heartbroken by their unrequited love they fall into a routine of 'one-night stands', Not realizing their each others mate.

Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: So I dont know how accurate the mate information is, like I said before I haven’t read the ACOTAR series since 2019 so I probably got a couple things wrong or didn’t write the characters the way you would expect them to act. I chose to make them more how they would be in head canons if you get what I mean. Either way I really hope you enjoyed the 2nd and final part to Two sides :) Feel free to send requests for Azriel or any other Acotar characters. Thank you all for the support <3

"We need to talk."

"Okay," Azriel says skeptically, he walks over to sit on the chair across from you.

"I wanted to apologize for the other night," You shifted in your seat as you spoke, you were noticeably uncomfortable. That bothered Azriel, he wanted you to feel natural not forced, he didn't know where that desire came from but it was true. Even if this conversation was a bit awkward. "I never meant to make you feel used, I guess, I just needed a distraction."

"From seeing Cassian and Nesta together?" He asked. You bit your lip and nodded. "Y/N, I didn't feel used." He let out a small chuckle. "I enjoyed it, actually. And a bit flattered that you chose to-" He coughed awkwardly, "share that part of yourself with me." You grinned. You eased up a bit after knowing that Azriel didn't feel bad about what happened the other night, and even enjoyed it. It also warmed your heart at the fact that this was one of the rare moments that he felt comfortable enough to talk about how he was feeling. Despite it probably being out of sympathy or to defuse the tension.

"Oh," You chirped "well good. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up our friendship."

He shook his head, "Y/N you've done a lot in the past few centuries that could've fucked up this friendship and we're still okay, better than okay considering. Besides Mor and I are still friends even after..." He tensed up, you went over to him and hesitantly put your hand on top of his.

"I know." You gave him a small smile. "I have an idea, I'll admit it's not my brightest but it will benefit the both of us."

His eyebrow quirked, "Your ideas are never the brightest, that's why you're just my second."

"Okay, wow." You blinked, removing your hand, and started pacing around the room. "First Rhys made me your second because I'm good at my job and you're just better cause of your shadows." He glared at you when you made the comment about his shadows. "Two, I've had a couple of good ideas in the past you just never go through with them."

"Maybe it's because all your ideas are reckless and we'd get caught if we did our job by using your so-called good ideas." He got up to meet you when you turned around to face the other way, you were met by his chest in your way.

You huffed when you looked up at him. "Whatever, I'm pretty sure you were going to like this one." He gave a nod to continue. "I- you know what I think it's better if I just show you."

He cocked his head to the side. You took this as an opportunity to grab him by the back of his neck and slammed your lips onto his. Immediately after he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. He started walking backward, leading you towards one of the bedrooms. Your foreheads pressed together but you paused from kissing him, catching your breath. You knew he could hear your heartbeat, beating quicker by the second, his heart was beating faster too. It gave you all the encouragement you needed to start taking off your clothes.

"So this was your bright idea," Azriel asked, while also hurriedly taking off his clothes.

"Mhm." Was your response before nodding and relocating your lips onto his.

The intensity of it made your heart stutter. You wanted him and at that moment he wanted you. He truly wanted you, you both felt it and took that feeling, using it to fuel the passion in that kiss. He moved down to your neck, nipping and biting at it. You moved your hand to slowly graze his wings, which made him freeze. Azriel gave you a look that made your body go on overdrive.

He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to "eat your neck" as Cassian had said all those days before. You rolled your eyes at the thought, but then they rolled back as Azriel bit at a sensitive area that intensified that already intoxicating feeling you got when you were with him.

And you wished it never ended.

~~~

"How do you feel about this?" You asked, hoping he'd be okay with it. So far he hadn't opposed.

"I don't want to hurt you." He confessed. You knew he meant physically, he could be a little rough sometimes. You were okay with that though, You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"I'm serious Y/N." He looked you in the eye. You were back at the training grounds of the Illyrian camp. You didn't specify any details, so you both didn't care about speaking in public.

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it." You began to walk ahead of him, He grabbed your forearm and pulled you back to face him, a hint of a smile on your face. "Only if you're sure."

Your smile faded once you saw that he was genuinely concerned. "Az, you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you."

He froze and let you go. He had a hard time letting people see how he was feeling but you could tell he was struggling with letting you in and his self-deprecation.

~~~

You had kept your secret "relationship" hidden from everyone else, as much as you could. It didn't take long. They were extremely nosy and it was difficult with Mor being your best friend. She always knew when you were lying and had insisted you were acting differently. You would always blow it off and say you had a good day, telling a random story you just thought of on the spot.

Cassian had continued to tease you about your secret lover-- which only intrigued Mor even further-- you avoided the truth most of the time. You and Azriel would be extra careful when doing what you did. Sometimes even going to Inns and you would both winnow to the location.

Going through all that trouble only for Amren to find out and threaten to tell the others. She tried to blackmail you into buying her a pure diamond bracelet. As if she couldn't afford it yourself. You talked to Azriel about it and you both decided you didn't care if anyone else knew, it's only a matter of time before they found out anyway. Plus you could use the money to buy a house somewhere private in Velaris. You enjoyed the privacy and lack of teasing for as long as it lasted.

Amren didn't tell but as you predicted, everyone did find out. Some already had suspicions like Mor, Rhys, and Feyre. Amren wouldn't have known if she hadn't caught you both and Cassian never would have thought. You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed at him not showing any sign of jealousy. You knew he wouldn't be, being caught up with Nesta and all but you still held hope. You considered yourself a fool and would try to fuck the feelings out of you with Azriel. And most of the time it worked.

~~~

Months went by as sleeping with your best friend became your new normal. You never would have thought that you'd be one of those mysterious girls that Azriel hooked up with, ever since that night, you were the only girl. You had to admit, you liked the idea; being Azriel's only girl. But you knew that although you would be the only girl in his bed, Mor will always be on his mind. Not that you blamed him, you were still somewhat hung up on Cassian. After you can't get rid of 500+ years of feelings.

As you laid next to Azriel, who now stayed nights instead of leaving right after, You admired his tattoos, the intricate designs, you fought the urge to trace them. You did anyways but only a centimeter away from his chest so you wouldn't wake him. In the morning light that slipped through a slight gap in your curtains, It shone right on him. He looked ethereal.

You always knew he was attractive most Illyrian men were, at least if they weren't assholes most of the time. You had time now, to actually take in his beauty. You could never understand how someone so beautiful and kind could be so broken. You guessed that's why you chose him to spend your nights with, instead of some random guy. You could help him and heal him and get him to appreciate himself more.

The shadows around him became more active, it made him tense up. He was awake. You lifted your hand up to up to move the stray hair that fell onto his face. At that moment, you felt your world shift an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration consumed your body and you snatched your hand away from him. You were in pure shock.

'Holy fuck' Was the only thing going through your head.

"What's wrong?"He questioned as if he could sense your distress. His voice hoarse from just waking up.

"Nothing." You said, immediately getting up and getting dressed in whatever you had closest to you. "You should, um, You should get going. I have a lot of reports to do, I've been holding them off but Rhys has been asking me for them for the longest so I should get on it."

Azriel sat up, the bed sheet covering one leg and another part. His perfectly sculpted body in your bed, the lighting, half of his leg uncovered by the blanket. You tried to compose yourself to figure out what you would do. Hoping that he didn't pick up on how different you were acting. It was no use he probably already expected something was up.

To try to ease the tension you sat next to him, brushing the hair out of his face, dragging your fingertips down to the side of his face, and kissed his cheek. You ignored the tingles you felt as his face nuzzled into your hand. Hesitantly, you remove your hand and got up from the bed, and sat at the desk you had in your room. You pretended to read through old letters from officials.

Azriel took that as his cue to leave. He got dressed and pressed a kiss to the back of your head before he left.

He definitely knew something, that's not how your mornings usually go. You would at least spend an hour or two together either talking or enjoying each other's presence before sending each other off to your respective duties. However due to your new discovery of Azriel being your mate. You panicked. What would you do now?

~~~

Hours had passed and you hadn't left your room, choosing to focus on the reports that you did in fact, have to do. Rhys just wasn't expecting them for another week or so. Mor then busted into your room. "Knock, knock bitch."

"Uh, hello gorgeous, didn't expect a lovely visit from you today." You said sarcastically, turning your chair to face her. She dropped the shopping bags onto your floor. You lifted a brow in question.

"We're going on a trip!"

"I'm busy." You turned back around to focus on what you were writing.

"It's a fun work one." You twisted your chair around again.

"How do you mean?"

"Day court gala, bonding with people, gaining trust, and all that." She waved it off as if you didn't need to know actual information. You decided you'd ask for details from Rhysand later.

"And you went shopping." You gestured to all of the bags. "like you don't have tons of outfits you could take."

"Well of course I do. These are for you." She grinned.

"W-what?"

"Just because you're supposed to be invisible and all that, doesn't mean you have to be like that all the time." She referred to your job description, being another spy for Rhysand, relying on you being a woman to get information from people Azriel couldn't. Kind of ridiculous considering Azriel's shadows allowed him to get all the information needed but it was an easy enough job. Unlike Az, you didn't have shadows to command so you stuck to your black outfits tunics, and suits that would help you move easily. You never really dressed up, unless it was for an occasion, but you enjoyed doing it when you could. Most of the time you would be on duty or something like it so you couldn't.

This Gala gave you the perfect excuse too. You were thankful to Mor for having bought you these dresses and accessories. You were pretty sure you had worn all the dresses you had in your closet already.

"Yeah, you're right." You gave her a half-smile. Part of you wondered what Azriel's reaction would be to you in one of these revealing dresses. You shook the thought from your head. You would dress for yourself not for some male, even if that male is your mate.

You debated whether to tell Mor or not. She might be able to help you with your internal battle. Part of you was hurt about Cassian not being your mate. Another part always knew that he wasn't, and another part of you wondered how Azriel would react. Did he feel the bond snap into place? Or was it a Feyre-Rhysand situation where the bond would snap into place at another moment? Would he reject you cause you weren't Mor?

You opted to tell Mor at the day court where you would have more space and privacy from the others.

~~~

Helion's words about uniting and bonding were very heartwarming and kind, but you couldn't get past the thoughts that swarmed your mind. You took advantage of this time with everyone listening to Helions welcoming speech and sneakily made your way over to where Mor was standing. You pretended to greet her with a kiss and whispered in her ear to meet you in the room you were staying at.

"Thank the cauldron you came along, Helion was droning on and was about to make me fall asleep." She joked as she sauntered into your room. She paused her amused tone as soon as she saw your face. "You were fine like two minutes ago."

"Glad to know, I'm good at hiding it." You forced a smile. She tilted her head as if to ask you 'what's wrong', so you told her. You told her that Azriel was your mate and how it happened. You told her of your fears of rejection and confusion with your love for Cassian. It was a different love now, you felt it. There was a shift in what you felt towards Cassian and more intense feelings for Azriel. You suspected the bond but you didn't mind it. You then opened up about your insecurity about him rejecting you for her. Which she shut down, though she knew what you meant.

"Mor, Azriel loves you, like I loved Cassian. What if his love for you is stronger and he refuses to let go. We all know the only reason he never went for you is his trouble with his self-worth." Those were harsh words, but they were true. "He could easily reject me for you, knowing you don't love him in that way."

"You don't know that Y/N. And you loved Cassian, probably as much as Azriel loved me. After all this time you spent together, you truly don't think he would have changed the way he feels for me?" She grabbed your hand in hers. "You and Azriel are like two sides of the same coin, he's all dark and brooding and you, well you're the same in some ways. But you bring out the light and you can cast out all of his darkness with a simple smile."

"I don't know." You whispered. You were scared. Your feelings for Azriel already began to grow, without the bond, with it in place now it was strengthened. Your feelings for Cassian was a background noise that would soon grow into a more familial type of love.

"What should I do Mor?" You whimpered, you put your face in your hands. "I feel like a girl with a crush. This is ridiculous."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes it is. On the bright side, if he doesn't know about you being mates, you could still have fun with other people."

You gave her a look. "You forget that he's my designated person to 'have fun' with."

"I didn't know you had a conversation on exclusivity." She shrugged and walked over to the cart that had alcoholic drinks, at the corner of the room.

"Technically we did when we agreed to sleep with each other when we felt like it." You reasoned.

"Hm." She mused, sipping on her drink. "I still say enjoy tonight, dance with a few males, or females, and if you two end up having sex with him again just enjoy the time you have with him."

"Thanks for the talk, Mor."

"Of course darling, by the way, I highly doubt he'll reject you. If he does he's an idiot and I'll kill him." She sent a wink your way and left you in your room to think.

~~~

Azriel watched as you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. A man who he didn't know came up from behind you, keeping up with you. That was the first of many. He felt a twinge of jealousy in his gut. He attempted to force that emotion down. He couldn't understand where that was coming from.

He was keeping watch, even though he always made sure to keep a lookout for danger to his court. Mor and Cassian tried to get him to ease up, he didn't budge. Who would pry Cassian from more liquor when he's had enough to drink if Azriel wasn't sober? He used the excuse of being the only responsible one to keep an eye on her. Y/n, Azriel thought he knew what it was to love someone because of Mor but what Azriel felt for Y/N was different. It felt raw and real and whatever it was, was growing fast. She was easy to talk to, not that he did much of that but she listened, actually listened when he did, and she didn't pry or hover as much as the others. They tend to beat around the bush when wanting to know about what was going on with him. Unlike Y/N who would take her time to make sure he felt comfortable and if, he wasn't, she would change the topic and act normal.

Y/N was a calming presence that allowed him to just be. She brought out another side of him that he thought he could never be.

That's why when he felt a change in the way he saw her dancing with a new guy than the one she was with earlier, it all made sense. She was his mate. He saw red as he practically flew to where they were. The fae males' hands that were roaming your bonds were ripped away from you and he dragged him away. Azriel pinned the man against the wall. People began to stare and talk in hushed whispers, appalled at the sight.

"Never touch my mate, again." He growled. He dug his fingers into the guy's neck.

"I-I didn't know." The man choked out.

"Well, now you do." He muttered, letting the man slump to the ground. He went over to where you were standing, eyes wide. His eyes softened while looking at you. He slowed as he got to you. "Can we talk?"

You nodded your head and began to walk toward an empty hall.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." He kept his voice low but soft. He was afraid, you would want to run away.

"You didn't." You stood there staring at him. You tried to figure him out, to no avail. His face was always stoic. "I- I thought you'd reject me and now I don't know what to do." You confessed.

"You knew?" He tried to recall if you had acted any differently. His shadows had felt the change in your demeanor and set out in whispers when you were rushing him out. He brushed it off, he should've looked more into it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel unwanted or rejected.

"Since yesterday morning." You confirmed. Your anxiety consumed you, you heard of the pain that came along with being rejected by your mate. Some have died from it. Little did you know Azriel was worrying about the same exact thing. Not thinking himself worthy enough of your affection. He allowed himself the pleasure of being in bed with you, assuming it was nothing more and he couldn't get hurt you or be hurt that way. It was a release from another pain you both had the displeasure of feeling.

"I want you to know it is an honor to have you as my mate." He took a step closer.

"Really? Honestly, I thought..." You shook your head. "Nevermind."

He looked confused but let it go, if you wanted to tell him you would. "Guess this means I have to go cook you something." You let out a laugh. He smiled an actual wide beautiful smile. Azriel grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was soon interrupted by a very drunk Mor who shouted, "Finally!"

Cassian was right behind her, "Mor! I forgot where the bathroom was, can y-" He paused looking between you and Azriel. "Oooh getting freaky in the hall, that's new. Hey Y/N if he isn't hitting it right, you know where to find me." He winked at you. Azriel gave him a murderous look, putting his arm in front of you. 'So he's gonna be one of those', you thought.

You couldn't wait till the second part of the mating process.

Tags: @wildchild2707​ ,@theworthlessqueen​ ,@ciciakai​ ,@rockinginneverland​

[shokami]

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

[jihyuncompass]

A Birthday Visit

Well well well would you look at that. My very first Tears of Themis fic is for Marius’s birthday who could have guessed (anyone who knows me) Happy Birthday Marius, I can’t wait to see you again <3

For future reference, this fic was written for Marius’s 2021 birthday. As of yet Tears of Themis has not been released for the English audiences. I have played the beta but there is a chance Marius will be a little out of character as a result of the timing. 

Summary: You visit Marius’s work to celebrate his birthday with him, even if he’s a little busy 

Marius x MC

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: N/A

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The PAX building was an intimidating one. That thought always came into your mind when you approached it. While the Law Firm was also one of the large skyscrapers that made up the Stellis skyline, the PAX building was taller, and quite the intimidating addition to said skyline. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d been here, far from it, but it was rare for you to go into PAX for a non professional reason, or without being explicitly invited by Marius. You looked up at the building, even without meaning to your eyes focused on the window you knew belonged to Marius’s office. There was a good chance he was in there right now. 

Adjusting your bag over your shoulder you walked through the doors and into the bustling first floor.  

You walked through the groups of professionally dressed employees standing to chat idly, or summarize the recent meetings they had. Or stop to enjoy their coffee for a little while before getting back to work. 

“Welcome to the PAX group.” One of the receptionists started as you walked to the desk. “How can I help you today?” You cleared your throat, speaking as eloquently as you can. 

“Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Von Hagen? I’m a friend.” You said to the receptionist. She raised an eyebrow and looked up at you. Scrutinizing your appearance.  

“I’m sorry, Mr. Von Hagen doesn’t see anyone without a meeting.” You pressed your lips together, 

“I can promise you he’s a good friend of mine, it’s his birthday and-” 

“I’m sorry I have no way to verify that you are who you say you are.” The receptionist said. You reviewed your options in your head, clearly she wasn't going to let you go up there on the promise of being a friend. 

After a moment of brainstorming an idea came to you, digging through your bag you showed the receptionist your work ID badge, listing you as a lawyer for the Themis Law Firm. 

“I’m also Mr. Von Hagen’s personal lawyer, he knows who I am.” The receptionist squinted at the ID, hesitant of it’s quality and authenticity. After typing at her computer briefly she sighed and relented. 

“Aright, I do see your name here. I’ll let you up there and I’ll give a call to Mr. Von Hagen’s assistant to let them know you’re here.” You thanked her and hurried to the elevator. The first challenge was dealt with, now it was just time to go through with the rest of the plan.  

You piled into the elevator with a group of suited men heading to what you assumed were their own desks and offices throughout the building, but you’d be one of the only people going as far up, to nearly the top floor where Marius’s office would be found. 

The elevator was nearly empty by the time you made it up, only a few people exiting with you. 

One of Marius’s assistants was waiting for you on the other side of the elevator. They greeted you as you approached them. 

“Good afternoon.” They said. “I’m afraid to say that Mr. Von Hagen has been stuck in meetings all day so I’m not sure if he’ll be able to see you.” 

You pressed your lips together, you should have asked him in advance, he was usually busier than he always let on. 

“Well I just have a couple things I want to show him, I’m happy to wait for when he has a spare moment.” The assistant seemed unsure but shrugged. 

“Very well, I’ll take you to his office, you can wait there. I’ll let him know that you’re there.” You followed the assistant down the long hallway to the office at the end, the largest by far, belonging to Marius. 

The assistant closed the door behind you, the office was neat and tidy as it always was. Although it was Marius’s office, you were always a little disappointed by just how little of Marius seemed to be in the office. The sleek professional furniture, the carefully organized files, cup full of standard ballpoint pens didn’t seem like Marius. The rebellious, creative and playful Marius you knew well and had grown to adore. 

Sitting on the couch in his office you decided to make use of your time by setting the present you’d gotten him out on the table, along with the small cake box. With your job and caseload you hadn’t had the time to make a particularly fancy or intricate cake. But something small the two of you could easily share.  

You hummed to yourself gently as you got everything set up. Your eyes focused on the work in front of you. So much so you didn’t even notice as the office doors opened while your back was turned. 

“So.” A voice said from behind you. The sudden noise startled you, making you jump. Quickly turning around you were face to face with Marius. Dressed with a full suit, although he had that playful gaze he kept around you. Seeing him, your shoulders relaxed, and a smile crossed your face. “I heard you wanted to see me.” 

“I hoped I could catch you for a minute for your birthday.” You explained to him. “I should have asked about your schedule, I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were so busy.” Marius shook his head. 

“Nah I’m glad you’re here. It’s a perfect surprise.” Marius looked past you and to the table behind you where everything was set up. His eyes lighting up with that almost childlike excitement he got. However that excitement was quickly clouded. 

You frowned. “You don’t have a lot of time huh?”

Marius hesitated to answer you. “I don’t have a lot of time, I have a meeting in a half hour.” 

As you looked from Marius to the table you straighten your back and beamed at him. “Well then let’s make this a fun half hour! Enjoy the time we have.” With this the playfulness returned. The Marius you loved to see. 

Sitting beside one another, you made quick work of slicing the cake into two even slices for the two of you. 

“I’m afraid it’s nothing fancy.” You said. “But I have no doubt it tastes good and that’s what matters, doesn't it?” 

“Did you make it?” Marius asked, a brow raised curiously. 

“I did, I’m not a baker though so be warned.” Marius picked up the fork, picking up the perfect bite of cake to get both the cake and the frosting on top. Watching him closely you made note of his reaction. “What do you think?”

Marius nodded. “It’s good, I think I would even say I’m impressed.” You relaxed against the couch. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You said. “I was worried it wasn’t going to be very good.” You took a bite to taste it yourself, the sweetness of the cake hitting your tongue immediately. You’d had better cakes, but still you couldn’t deny the little part of you that was proud of what you’d made. 

Not wanting to waste your time you quickly leaned forward to push some presents closer. This seemed to grab Marius’s attention away from the cake in his hand. He set it down to pick up one of the gifts, looking over the basic wrapping paper. 

“Go ahead.” You encouraged. “Open it up! Take a look.”  Marius stared with the smallest one, quickly tearing off the paper without much thought. He pulled out two tickets, reading the tiny text on them. “They’re for an upcoming art exhibition I read about online, I thought it’d be fun to go together. I don’t know nearly as much about art as you do but maybe you could teach me some stuff.” 

Marius smirked. “I guess I could spare some of my expansive art knowledge to impart some on you.” 

Holding back from rolling your eyes instead you gave him your best genuine smile. “I would love that. I’d love to learn from you.” Marius seemed pleased by this, as evidenced by the redness that quickly started growing on his face. Looking back at the gift he tried to get himself back under control. 

Similar to the first gift Marius tore the wrapping paper off the second one. This one, a hand held sketchbook, bound nicely with a leather cover, his initials MVH put onto the front. A small note you’d written scribbled onto the first page. 

“This is-”

“Well, you’re always working so hard here, or studying hard at university, and I know you would probably much prefer to be in your studio painting. So, that’s a little sketchbook, one you can carry anywhere.” Flipping through the pages, Marius’s expression turned soft, warm, happy, not holding that playful spark. “I know you probably could afford any notebook in the world, but this one is customized just for you, not another one of these exists just like it.” 

The softness in his face stayed even when he looked up at you, even when he looked down again. 

“Thank you, for this.” He held it carefully in his hands, as if he was afraid of damaging it too soon. Before he could even put pencil to paper for the first time. There were still a couple gifts left, but you let him linger on that one. Trying to memorize every single second in your mind. 

The rest of the gifts were more basic things, special sweets, some art supplies you’d seen when you passed by the art store on your way home. Despite how basic many of these smaller gifts were, he never seemed ungrateful, and equally happy to see each one. 

All the presents unwrapped, and cake nearly finished you both sat together happily. Looking at Marius with the initial excitement wearing off you started to see the exhaustion peeking through. The heaviness in his eyes, the way his shoulders were stiff yet slumped. He looked tired, worn out already. 

“Your assistant said you’ve been in meetings all day?” 

Marius rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, PAX has a big thing coming up. I’ve been in meetings since eight. This is the first break I’ve had all day.” As he spoke he loosened his tie, letting it release some of the tension in his shoulders and neck. 

“You look exhausted.” You said. He sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Have you been resting?” 

Marius’s eyes opened again. “I was at my studio late last night. But I’m fine.” 

You looked more concerned, you doubted he was really resting enough. With everything he did, there was no possible way he was letting himself take breaks. Even on his birthday he seemed to be working full steam ahead. 

“Marius, why don’t you lay down for a bit? Let yourself rest?” Marius looked over at you, as if he was trying to think through it, crunching the numbers in his head. Gently touching his shoulder you turned him to face you, his eyes raised to look at your face. You loosened up his tie some more and unbuttoned the top button on his dress shirt to let him relax. 

 “Come on.” You said in a soft voice. “Rest for a little bit.” 

He considered this for a little while longer. Then let long a long sigh, he let himself lean forward enough to rest his forehead against your shoulder. Reaching up you rubbed his back, gently massaging to let him relax against you. 

“I can’t rest for long.” Marius muttered. “There’s that meeting-”

“Something is better than nothing.” You reminded him. “How about you lie down? You can rest with me until your meeting.” He was still for a little while longer, then lifted his head long enough to move. 

Marius’s head was laying in your lap. You gently played with his hair, running your fingers through the strands. Marius’s eyes slipped closed, his breaths long and even. 

“My meeting-” 

“I’ll get you up when it’s time. Rest right now.” You told him. He sighed and let himself fully rest. 

“Thank you.” He muttered. 

“Happy birthday Marius.” You whispered to him. Watching him rest, you couldn’t help but smile. This moment was going to be over sooner than later, soon he’d have to get up and get himself cleaned up, he’d go to that meeting, and then the next one and the next one until he could call it a day. He’ll probably go to his studio again, even if he’s exhausted. He’ll try and get some rest, but eventually he’ll get up and start it all again. 

But right now he’s with you and resting. Enjoying the short break he could afford. Maybe not the best birthday one could have, but one that was more than happy. 

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — one || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 6k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Minor Character Death, Guns, kind of dark in general

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The first gunshot takes everyone by surprise. Unsure glances are exchanged all around, “did you guys hear that”, and disbelief is clear as day on people’s faces. There’s no way this would happen here, right? People are mostly aware of the fact that they’re technically working for a mafia leader, but this is the legal side of the business, and this building is in the middle of the town’s business centre. This cannot be happening.

You stay perfectly still, immobile where you were standing. Out of all the people here, you’re the one who is the most involved in the questionable parts of the family’s activities. In fact, you were just about to go up to Mr. X’s floor to discuss said questionable things — in this case, the smuggling of a large cargo of weapons.

The gunshot is still ringing in your ears when it is followed by another one, and then possibly more, but you can’t hear them because chaos erupts all around you.

People get up, start running around, some towards the elevators, some towards the stairs. Your brain tells you those choices are probably bad. If those gunshots are for the Family — and who are you kidding, they are — then whoever is firing them is coming up.

“Don’t use the stairs,” you order, and some people stop to look at you, unsure of what to do. They trust your decisions, to a degree, but you doubt it’s enough in this situation. “They’re probably coming,” you explain, even if three of the employees have already slipped through the door and left, “and I don’t think you should be in front of the elevator when the door opens.”

Blood drains from people’s faces. Downstairs, there are more shots fired. A woman starts to cry. Your brain is going in overdrive, processing everything, trying to come up with the best decision, and yet it doesn’t feel like anything is actually registering.

“You should barricade yourself in a room,” you say. Your voice is eerily calm, even to your ears, and it feels strange to hear it. It’s like a curtain has fallen between you and the world around you. You understand that this situation is terrifying, that you should have a reaction that is not apathy. You just don’t. “I don’t think you’re the main targets here. I’ll be going up to see Mr. X.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a man shouts. “You just want to leave us here to be canon fodder! You—”

He’s shut up by your bodyguard pulling out a gun of his own.

“I suggest you do what she’s saying,” he orders, voice deep and gravelly.

On top of being armed, Hector is a bear hybrid you hired about a year ago. He’s tall and large, very impressive physically, which is generally enough to discourage any kind of altercation. He’s also a calm and gentle person most of the time. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him hold the gun he carries.

“You should stay here with them,” you tell him. He send you a disconcerted look.

“Are you sure? Even if they’re not the target, you might be.”

The statement shouldn’t take you by surprise. It’s something you should have considered immediately, and it takes you a second to figure out why you haven’t. If you are a target, that means the attacker knows about the workings of the organization. That would mean that they’ve been planning this for a while, and that they’ve simply gone completely under your radar all this time. Which is a lot more worrying to you than anything else.

“Stay,” you insist. When this is over, it will be better if people here think you had their best interest at heart.

If you make it out, that is.

Hector ushers people inside a conference room, and you walk towards the stairs. From there, you hear gunshots better than you did earlier, and you wince at the sound. You’re not used to it. It’s strange, since you’ve been working for the Family for years now, but you’ve very rarely heard people firing guns. You’ve never even had a gun pulled on you. You’d like to think it’s because you’re too careful, or too smart to find yourself in those situations, but the truth is you’ve just never been in situations where that sort of things would happen.

Sure, someone could send a killer for you — they have, actually — and then the carefully crafted net of precautions you’ve woven around yourself would — did — stop them, but you don’t participate in drug deals and you’re rarely out in the street, and that’s where those things happen most of the time.

You glance down. You’re on the fifteenth floor, so you doubt the employees who ignored your warning have made it out yet. You doubt they will, to be honest.

Glancing up, you wonder if you’ll make it to the twentieth before someone catches up with you and, since it’s a useless thing to think about, you begin your ascension. You’re not the most in shape, most of your daily exercise consisting in walking from places to places. That is a lot of walking, and you can do it without getting breathless, but you never take the stairs. Soon, you’re panting, and you’re about to take a break after three floors when you hear new gunshots that make you freeze.

These were in the stairwell. They echo deafeningly, and, for the first time since this all started, fear actually grips you. You swallow, heart beating loudly, and you keep going. You hear some screams, down there, and the horrible sound of flesh — bodies — hitting the floor, and then nothing. You’re sure someone must be climbing up those stairs, but you can’t hear them at all, and that terrifies you. You have no idea how fast they are, how soon they’ll catch up with you, how—

You slam open the door to the last floor. The time is not to discretion, and anyway, whoever is down there is probably coming for the twentieth floor.

The second you walk out, three guns are pointed towards you, and someone is screaming at you to stay where you are. You obey, until Mr. X’s bodyguards identify you. You had told him that hiring hybrids would be a good idea, since they rely more on their heightened senses and tend to have better reflexes, but you’d been ignored, so you had just shrugged it off and followed your own advice.

“Mr. X is inside,” one of the men tells you, pointing at the door, but not moving to take you there. You walk by him, and they all keep their eyes firmly on the stairwell’s door. That makes you assume the elevators don’t work, otherwise they’d have part of their focus on there.

“Mr. X, do we have any idea what— Miss Xanders, I apologize, I hadn’t seen you there.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” Anna says. “We really have more important things to concern ourselves with.”

“Do we know who’s attacking us?” you ask, giving your attention back to Mr. Xanders.

Mr. Xanders is an old man, you feel that he was already an old man when you’d joined. He had Anna quite late, when he was nearing his fifties, and he recently celebrated his seventieth birthday. You would know, you organized the party.

He’s looked old for as long as you’ve worked for him, using a walking stick, small eyes hidden behind large glasses, skin marked with wrinkles. But there was always something sharp and smart, cunning, in his eyes. Despite everything, he felt dangerous, and you had never doubted that he was not a man to underestimate.

Right now, though, he looks tired. Exhausted. He’s staring at his laptop screen and shaking his head, utterly confused.

“I can’t recognize anyone,” he says, and your heart misses a beat. Not good, that’s not good at all. “Can you?”

You walk around the desk quickly, examining the view you get from various cameras placed all around the building, and your hands involuntarily clench into fists as you see how dire everything is. On several different floors, men with machine guns are walking around, and you know for a fact they’re not working for you. You can’t see what’s happened to your people in the low-resolution, but you can guess, and your stomach tightens at the thought.

“How is that possible?” you whisper. “How has no one intervened yet?”

You know the police isn’t too keen on coming here, but this is genuinely insane. The only explanation you can think of is that they’ve been paid-off, and again, you don’t know how you wouldn’t have heard about that.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Mr. X says harshly, and you wince, focusing again on the men on the screen. You scan the men again, quickly. Some are wearing masks, but a lot of them are brazenly showing their faces, and that is one more thing that is not good. They should want to make sure no one would recognize them. If they’re confident enough to do that…

“I don’t know them,” you whisper. Some look vaguely familiar, but you just can’t place it, so you’re sure they aren’t big names. You have definitely not been on the look-out for them.

“Dad, we should really go up to the helicopter,” Anna says urgently.

Mr. Xanders hesitates, then nods, getting up in a movement that is slow and clearly painful. You help him out without thinking much about it, holding his arm and giving him his walking stick.

“How will you do that? The elevators aren’t working and the stairs don’t go to the roof.”

“We’ll reactivate the elevators,” Anna explains with a shrug, and you stare at her in disbelief.

“That will mean those people will be able to move freely in the building. I don’t think—”

“They are already moving freely,” Mr. Xanders barks.

“Still—”

Then, a lot of things happen at the same time. You were standing in front of the elevator, Anna calling it with a special key, the bodyguards surrounding you, eyes and weapons still directed at the stairwell door.

The elevator opens with a ding. And the door slams open.

There are gunshots everywhere. You dive to the ground, or maybe you’re pushed down, you’re not too sure. You look up to see two men falling down around you, the third guard ushering Anna and her father in. You try to push yourself to your feet, but the door is already closing. You call out, you can’t hear your own voice, ears ringing from all the noise.

You meet Anna’s eyes, filled with indifference and a complete lack of remorse, and then the door is closed, and you know they’re gone.

And someone, someone who wanted them dead and just killed two men, is in this room with you.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you turn around. As you do, you feel your lower lip starting to tremble, and you sink your teeth into the flesh to stop it. You push yourself on your elbows, and your eyes fall on a man with bleached blonde hair pushed back with a bandana, a round face that makes him look younger than you suspect he is, and a mocking smirk. Once more, you’re struck by the fact that you don’t know him. He’s alone and he took out two trained guards, not to mention the people he must have killed to get there, and you have no clue who he is.

His eyes confuse you, at first, and then you realize it’s their color that is throwing you off, an unnatural yellow, and the slit of his pupils. He’s a hybrid, you understand, and you curse yourself for how slow your brain is at the moment. You don’t have time to wonder if he’s part cat or part snake before he takes a step towards you. Fear grips you, and you consider crawling back, but you force yourself to stay unmoving. You don’t let emotions control you. That’s not who you are.

Instead, you stare at him straight in the eyes, even as you feel tears well up in yours. You’ve never been afraid of death, and yet it seems that you can’t stop your body’s reaction as you understand that this is it. This is how you die, where you die, this is who kills you.

The man crouches down in front of you, and lifts his gun to press the barrel against your forehead. He looks at you like an animal playing with its food. The situation seems to be amusing to him, and you think he is waiting for you to beg. You have no intention of doing that.

“Just make it quick,” you say.

You don’t recognize your own voice. The man’s smile widens, revealing pearly white teeth and a set of fangs. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you’re completely unable to stop them. You don’t feel sad or afraid, you just feel empty, but the tears keep falling. Still, you hold the man’s gaze. You won’t beg for your life.

“What if I let you go?” he drawls, and you can’t help the way your eyes widen at the possibility. Then, he laughs, pleased by your reaction, and you’re horrified to find out that this had an effect on you. The treacherous hope you’d just felt makes the reality of your imminent death crushing. A sob escapes you before you can get yourself under control again.

“Please,” you whisper. “Just get it over with.”

A pout forms on his face, and he shrugs. Then, to your surprise, he removes the gun from your forehead. The next thing you feel is the grip of the weapon, violently connecting with your temple, and then you don’t feel anything at all, not even the floor when your head hits it in your fall.

You wake up to the sound of soft, muffled sobs. It takes you a few seconds to piece things together, your head throbbing painfully and your mind in shambles. You lift your head with a groan, trying to take in your surroundings. Your thoughts are slow and you hate it. It makes you feel so vulnerable and defenseless.

Of course, that gets worse when you realize your hands are tied behind your back. That sends a jolt of adrenaline through your body, and you manage to look around you. It seems like you are in some warehouse, which, in your experience, is not a good thing. That’s where executions happen. They’re places that are accident prone, so the presence of blood could be explained easily, and they aren’t inspected that often anyway.

There's another sob beside you, and when you turn to look where it’s coming from, you find Anna, not just tied up but gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. You assume that means her and her father were caught before they made it to the helicopter. On the other side of her is Mr. X, who seems to be in the same situation as her.

I’m here to be killed, you think. You can’t see another explanation. Mr. X and Anna are definitely here for that reason, so if you’re there with them— it means you’re here to die. You hope it will be quick, like you had asked that man, but you doubt it. If they took you here, it’s probably because they intend to make an example out of you. Intellectually, you don’t blame them. If this is a takeover of the family, they’ll probably need all the intimidation power they can get to keep the situation under control. It’s a ballsy move, certainly, and you would be at least a little impressed if you weren’t thinking about the creative and painful ways they can choose to get rid of you.

“Is she awake?” a voice asks. You turn your head quickly, too quickly, and another groan escapes you as your head painfully reminds you of the blow you just took.

You meet the mocking eyes of the man who knocked you out, before he looks away from you, at a large man you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“He wants to see her.”

The man nods, and then he’s on you in just a few steps, roughly forcing you up, his grip tight around your arm. You groan again as he drags you through the warehouse, to a large black car. You have just the time to think that someone must not want to be seen, if they’re in that, before you’re pushed into it. You lose your balance and land on your knees, and that’s when legs appear in your field of vision. They’re clad in black suit trousers.

You slowly look up. First, you discover elbows resting on spread knees, tattooed hands joined between them. Then there’s an elegant white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, muscular shoulders, a strong jaw, an amused, mocking smile and—

Your mouth drops open. Today is definitely proving to be a trying day for your reputation of never expressing your emotions, no matter the situation.

“Jungkook?” you ask, in disbelief.

Because it’s him. There’s something harsher in his eyes, his hair is longer, dark locks falling down to his jaw, and he’s lost any remaining softness he still had two years ago, when you last saw him, but it’s definitely him. He looks confident, and he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, clearly knowing that he’s in full control of the situation.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanna take a seat?”

He watches you struggle to get to your feet, something that turns out not to be that easy when your hands are tied behind your back, and doesn’t make a movement to help you. When you manage to sit opposite him, you’re still watching him like you’ve seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

You know you should be able to piece things together to get an answer now. The deferential tone the man had when he talked about him earlier, everything that happened since these first gunshots… In another situation, it would be obvious to you. But because it’s Jungkook, you can’t bring yourself to come to the natural conclusion.

Jungkook had an out. He could have left this world behind altogether. So why wouldn’t he?

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart,” he says, mocking, and his smile is harsh and condescending. “I’m taking over for the Xanders family. I think that should have been pretty clear.”

There’s a moment of silence, a long moment, as he waits for it to sink in. He’s in no hurry.

“But why?”

He shrugs, lean back against the leather seat.

“Because I can. Don’t you wanna why you’re here?”

That… would be a good idea, actually, and you’re bothered by how long it took you to think about it. You’re also bothered by how you lost track of that the second you saw Jungkook. You blame it on the surprise and on the fact that you’ve known him since before you became as— you’d like to say ‘efficient’, but the right word is probably ‘emotionless’. Empty.

“Why am I here?” you ask, frowning. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it outside. It could be that he just wants to gloat, but something tell you he has—

“I have an offer for you,” he says, and then he grins and reveals his teeth. “It’s my way of saying thanks for how generous you were when you gave me five minutes to save my life.”

His tone is so abrasive it almost makes you wince, but you’re already falling back into your normal self. ‘Offer’ is a good thing, it means negotiation, conversation, things you can do, things you’re good at, things you can focus on to block out everything else, like the pain in your head or the guilt that settles in when he describes your actions.

“What offer?”

The grin disappears. He doesn’t seem happy he didn’t get a reaction from you.

“Work for me.”

That… makes sense, you suppose.

“I’m taking over for Mr. X. You know everything around here, and some people say you’re the best there is at what you do.” Then he shrugs, and casually pulls out a gun that you think was tucked in his back pocket. “That, or join him out there. I’m not sure you’ll like the outcome for that though.”

Despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but seriously consider the offer. If there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that it’s not a good one. Even if he manages to replace Mr. X, you doubt all the people who work for him will obey him. Stabilizing the whole thing will be a titanic task, but that’s not even what worries you — you can appreciate a challenge. No, the issue is that if you switch your allegiance, people will remember it. You will make a lot of enemies, and that doesn’t even include the people who simply will not trust you because you used to work for someone else. It’s a poisoned gift, really, and you’re sure Jungkook knows it.

“How do you plan on making the families follow suit?” you ask with a frown.

He rolls his eyes.

“Do people ever tell you how boring you are?”

They do, actually.

“This is not the only coup happening today. Some people who have already agreed to work for me will get in power. And the others… will take some convincing, but I’m sure they’ll come around.” He gives you a joyless, aggressive smile.

You’re still focused on his first words. You were already so puzzled that you wouldn’t have heard about what’s going on today — about how Jungkook is back in town, about how he’s been planning an entire takeover — but this is on a whole other level.

“How did you do that?” you ask, and when he lifts an eyebrow, you know you didn’t manage to keep your surprise out of your voice.

“Which part?”

“How did I not hear about that? I mean, Mr. X could sneeze and I would have known about it. People couldn’t open speakeasies without getting approved by me first — and they tried more than once.”

Jungkook looks at you, and disbelief passes on his face. This is what gets you? You couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about anything earlier, now you seem barely affected by the fact that he was threatening to kill you, but that caught your interest. Not just that, but you almost look impressed.

Okay, maybe you’re not as boring as he’d said, but you sure are fucking weird.

“We can smell you,” he says, tapping his nose. “It’s not too hard to figure out who you’re in contact with. Just had to make sure to avoid them. There were a few close calls, but we took care of it.” Then he shrugs. “It wasn’t as hard as you think it was. You’re not as cautious around hybrids.”

You stare at him for a while. He starts picking at his suit, looking annoyed by the turn the situation has taken, and you think about what he said. He’s right, you realize. You fucked up here — badly. You should have taken hybrids’ senses into consideration. You’d like to tell yourself that you didn’t think about it because there were no hybrids in high places, in the organization, but that’s not a good excuse. You file the information in your brain. You’ll do better.

“I’ll do it,” you say, and Jungkook glances at you.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’m— curious, I suppose. I’d like to see where this thing is going.”

Jungkook considers taking back his offer. He didn’t know what he thought would happen, but he expected it to be more interesting than this. Instead, you sat there, face as stiff as ever, and now you’re talking about being curious, which sounds wildly out of character, if you ask him. Yoongi’s told him you cried when you thought he was about to kill him, but he doubts it right now. It doesn’t look like anything can get through that thick shell of yours — and even if it did, he doesn’t think there would be a lot underneath it.

But the thing is, he was telling the truth earlier, when he said you were rumored to be the best there was at your job, and Jungkook is nothing if not a perfectionist. He likes to surround himself with the best. Which, unfortunately, means you.

“Suga!” he shouts, opening the door.

The man with the slit pupils jumps in easily, and looks at you with a disapproving twist of his lips.

“I’m not killing her, am I?”

He sounds disappointed.

Jungkook shakes his head in response.

“That’s Suga,” he tells you, pointing at the man. “He’ll explain how we work to you.”

You nod.

“I think he should kill you,” Suga informs you off-handedly, dropping on the seat next to you. “I think you’ll betray us.”

“If she does, I’ll kill her, if she fucks up her job, I’ll kill her, ” Jungkook says, and you have no doubt he means it. “Consider this your five minutes. Let them go, and you won’t have another shot.”

“That’s fine by me,” you say evenly. Betrayal has never been an option for you. You had no loyalty towards Mr. X, but the threat over your family was too big to risk it. And now, with Jungkook— you guess you’ll have to wait and see. You don’t think you’ll betray him, but if things turn sour… You suppose you’re not above it.

Maybe it should worry you, how little you value your own life, but you brush it off quickly. Thinking about it too much could compromise the way you do your job, and you can’t have that.

“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back, eyes watching you carefully. “What do you suggest we do with the Xanders?”

Suga opens his mouth, but Jungkook lifts a hand, signaling that he wants your answer. You wonder if this is some kind of test.

“Killing them would be the best decision,” you say, somewhat reluctantly. You know your decisions in the past, your suggestions, have lead to the death of people, but you’ve rarely been so direct about it. Then again, death is part of the game, when you work this kind of job. Mr. Xanders is about as close to an actual monster as it gets. And Anna… Well, maybe Anna isn’t. You don’t like her, and you absolutely believe that she was happy to enjoy everything that came with what her father did, but she’s not him. Which is a low bar to clear.

“She’s not wrong,” Suga echoes, sounding annoyed.

“Letting them live would be seen as a proof of weakness and they would try to come back. It’s just— a bad idea.”

You can see Jungkook’s jaw tensing. Next to you, Suga starts to make his leg shake. You suppose he has the same kind of bad feeling you do.

“What if we kill Mr. X but not Anna?” he asks, and Suga groans. Jungkook rolls his eyes and develops. “Yoongi, we’re not taking over the legal part of the business. We can just— leave that to her, and not bother about it.”

“We’ll have to figure out something else to launder money,” you say, because that was the main point of that side of things, legal just in name really. That is not your biggest concern, though. “But if you kill her father and not her—”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Yoongi snaps. “She needs to die.”

He’s right. It’s just the smart thing to do.

“People here aren’t impressed by mercy,” you insist, and that’s when you realize you’ve lost that fight already. Jungkook knows it. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s made his decision, even if it’s a bad one, and trying to change his mind is useless. So you’re quick to jump to the things that need to be done if he lets Anna live. “You need to get her to sign emancipation papers.”

Jungkook tenses suddenly at the suggestion and a low growl comes from his throat as he bares his teeth at you threateningly. Yoongi barely moves, but you see his hand settling on his hip, near his gun, which you guess serves as a reassuring gesture. The car fills with tension, and you swallow. You feel small and defenseless. It’s not that rare a sentiment, but you suddenly become extremely aware of the fact that you’re alone with them, hands still fucking tied behind your back, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do.

“Anna doesn’t own me,” Jungkook snarls.

“Legally she does,” you explain. You’re choosing your words carefully, making sure not to anger him any more, but you’re still staring right at him. “You may have forged an ID or something, but if she lives and she can prove she hasn’t freed you— the consequences will be bad.”

There is a second that feels like an eternity, Jungkook just staring at you, lips now in a tight line, before he shrugs and you can breathe again.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Yoongi groans and sends you a furious glare that you don’t understand. You agreed with him. What did you do to deserve that?

“I’ll take care of Xanders,” Jungkook adds. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Can someone— Can someone untie me?” you ask as they’re moving towards the door.

Jungkook glances at you.

“We’ll see when we come back.”

A grin flashes on his lips when your lips twist into an offended expression, and then he jumps out of the car, followed by Yoongi, and leaves you alone in there.

Fuck.

What an asshole.

Jungkook walks towards his captives with long, confident strides. Yoongi is right behind him, of course, his shadow, the perfect killer. He may disapprove of Jungkook’s plan, if you can even call it that, and he sure doesn’t like how easily you dropped the topic, but he’s still loyal to him. If he fucks up, he’ll clean up after him.

Jungkook savors the moment when Anna’s eyes fall on him. He can tell she recognizes him immediately by the way they widen and how she tries to speak through her gag. It’s been years since the last time he saw her. Much longer than the last time he saw you, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s thought about this so much. A long time ago, he dreamt of her telling him she wanted him back, but over the years, it mostly turned into him finally taking revenge, and he intends to fully savor it now that it’s happening.

He removes the gag from her mouth, and takes an unhealthy pleasure from the way she sobs out, loud and desperate.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, baby, please, please…”

Jungkook only needs to glance at Yoongi for him to set her free, albeit after an annoyed roll of his eyes. The second he does, Anna falls from the chair, right into his arms. Jungkook knows that she’s only trying to save her life, doubts she’s thought of him for more than a split second since he’s disappeared, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to enjoy it.

“Hey baby,” he grins, and he watches as she winces when she sees his sharp teeth. Right, she didn’t see him after that.

Fuck. It’s been a long, long time. She really didn’t give a fuck about him, huh?

And yet he can’t kill her. And yet he knows her bright, pleading eyes, the light weight of her body, the curve of her neck by heart.

“I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, voice deep and eyes boring into hers.

She blinks.

“And if I do you won’t— you won’t kill me?”

Jungkook’s opinion of Anna is far less charitable than yours. He thinks she’s an opportunist, will do anything to preserve herself and, sure, she’s not personally involved in her father’s business, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if she was. She likes to play the innocent girl who’s horrified by what’s going on with her family, but she just isn’t. As simple as that.

“Nah. I won’t.”

It doesn’t take long before Anna is kneeling on the floor, writing down what Yoongi is dictating to her, reading from his phone. Jungkook could do it, knows the text by heart, learned it a long time ago when he still hoped for it, but he just stays there immobile instead, watching her at his mercy.

It’s not as nice as he’d imagined.

Finally, she hands him the piece of paper with trembling hands, a small smile forming on her lips as she thinks that her nightmare is over.

Jungkook takes it, reads it over, and nods. Then he pulls his gun out, and Anna’s smile vanishes. Jungkook thrives on her reaction, on the idea that he has complete power over her in that moment. It feels dark and twisted, but fuck, it also feels good.

“But I—”

He shoots and Anna yelps, protecting her ears in reflex.

It takes her a second to realize he wasn’t aiming at her, and relief washes over her, before she understands what it means. She turns around, slowly. And screams.

A clean shot, Jungkook decides, looking at Mr. X. The man had been glaring at him the entire time, and he doubts he would have groveled like Anna had. Now, his blood is splattered on the floor, head thrown back, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with empty, dead eyes. Jungkook doesn’t care when Anna runs to him, sobbing, calling for him, trying to shake him awake.

“We’re going,” Jungkook announces to Yoongi, who finally seems a little less angry with him.

He doesn’t look back at Anna as he walks away.

You rub your wrists, then your shoulders after Yoongi has cut you free. Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, just sits back in the luxurious car. You thought he would look content, happy with himself. He doesn’t.

When the car stops in front of your building, you’re not sure what to do. Part of you still can’t believe he’s letting you live.

“We’ll come and get you tomorrow to get things started,” Jungkook informs you while staring out the window. “You know, you probably should have moved two years ago,” he adds, and for some reason, that really rubs you the wrong way.

“I changed the locks,” you answer, and he grins.

“You still haven’t figured out how I did it, right?”

You frown. You haven’t.

He looks genuinely pleased by that.

“What should I call you?” you ask. “Do you want to be the new Mr. X?”

He growls at the suggestion, but seriously thinks about your question.

“Call me— Call me Mr. Jeon,” he decides spontaneously, without explaining his decision, and you nod. This should help make things more professional, isn’t if this isn’t actually a professional setting.

“Fine, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re pleased to find that your voice is back to normal, calm and even, not letting anyone know of whatever you’re feeling.

Except Jungkook and Yoongi can probably hear how fast your heart is still beating, but that’s a problem you’ll have to deal with some other time.

You step out, and linger there a second too long, the door open. Finally, you gather the courage to turn around and look at Jungkook.

“Why are you back?”

You mean a lot by that. In the city, sure, but also in that setting. You’d always thought— you’d always thought Jungkook was better than that. You’d always thought he should get the opportunity to get away and he’d be fine. That’s something you can’t shake away, can’t push under the rug.

He couldn’t escape.

He stares at you blankly.

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

Then he leans in and closes the door, and you’re left alone on the pavement.

Tagging list: @chaiwivluv​ @mintyrae​

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Anything

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 10,418 

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe​, @gallickingun​, @mirakumiruku​, @wakaoujisenhime​, @sunnieskies02​, @hisoknen​

Art in banner by me.

This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased. 

That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for. 

Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy. 

Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink. 

Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable. 

Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever. 

Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool. 

Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know. 

That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?

You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably. 

Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything! 

“Bakugou-!” 

The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--

“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…” 

“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.

“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?” 

Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?” 

“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?” 

“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.” 

“I bet I could guess.” “You’d fucking fail, moron-”

“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.” 

“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.  

“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.” 

“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it? 

“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!” 

Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare. 

Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care. 

Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up. 

“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously. 

“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed. 

“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.” 

“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him. 

It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him. 

There wasn’t anything else you could do.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face. 

“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?” 

B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported. 

Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance. 

With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left. 

But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you? 

Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you. 

Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight. 

This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff! 

Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there? 

Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!

Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt. 

You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear. 

“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?” 

“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.” 

“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.” 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” 

The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin. 

“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?” 

His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-” 

“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.” 

“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips. 

“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.” 

“What are… Are you going to kick me out?” 

“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?” 

“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.” 

“Then what are you doing with my clothes?” 

An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself. 

“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.” 

“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?” 

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day. 

“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.” 

You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.” 

“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?” 

“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.” 

“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?” 

“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…” 

“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true. 

But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you? 

“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl. 

“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.” 

“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.” 

“Really? You’re not upset?” 

“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.

“Yes.” 

“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?” 

A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”

“Get on your knees.” 

Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?” 

“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you. 

“All the way up on your knees.” 

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing. 

“What are you looking at, babe?” 

Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?

“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.” 

Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor. 

Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared. 

“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.” 

Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue. 

Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t! 

You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it? 

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.” 

Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache. 

Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this? 

Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.” 

The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work? 

“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer. 

Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat. 

Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous. 

You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it. 

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.” 

Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way. 

“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel. 

I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--

Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip. 

You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick. 

“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!” 

“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?” 

Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today? 

It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it! 

“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans. 

“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?” 

“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit. 

“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips. 

“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.” 

The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred. 

“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks. 

“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips. 

“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest. 

“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.” 

“N-no, it was just--” 

“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!” 

You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life. 

“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?” 

“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!” 

“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” 

“Beg for it.” 

At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!” 

When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in. 

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined. 

“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!” 

“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain. 

“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could. 

Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked. 

“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--” 

“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper. 

“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.” 

With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release. 

Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other. 

For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks. 

Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?” 

Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--” 

“--Katsuki!” 

His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.” 

“Right. I… should I leave now?” 

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.” 

Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!” 

Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute. 

“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!” 

For now…? 

Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?” 

“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.” 

Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…” 

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side. 

“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?” 

The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?

“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.” 

“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick. 

“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair. 

“H-he told me I looked fine!” 

“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.” 

“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure. 

“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.” 

“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.” 

With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.” 

“I will…”

“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone. 

Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was. 

In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again? 

Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers. 

Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.

Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you. 

“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”

He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?

Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki? 

Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party? 

[master-sass-blast]

Care and Trust: Chapter Two.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five -Chapter One

Summary: “--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

AKA you learn why you got called to Lin's office.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader

Rating: T.

Word Count: 4.2k.

Also, a huge thank you to @chromecutie for beta reading this fic in addition to all the others in this series! I would not have had the confidence to post any of HTH if she hadn’t assured me that I was doing the characters justice.

Lin’s office is a real, proper office; go figure, she’s the Chief of Republic City’s entire police force. It’d be weird if she didn’t have a proper office.

It’s an expansive, long room, with wrought iron support beams and a dark, wood panelled ceiling. A desk sits in the center of the room, right across from double doors. There’s a leather chair that looks like it’s worth more than your apartment behind the desk, as well as one to the side of the desk (presumably for visitors or reporting officers).

There’s a small sitting area to the left of the doors. Two couches are positioned across from each other, with a metal coffee table in between. On the opposite wall is a wardrobe --you’re putting money on a second set of armor and some clean casual clothes, given the horror stories Lin’s told you about messy crime scenes.

Aside from a third couch tucked into the corner of the room --it looks luxuriously padded, and you’re also putting money on Lin sleeping on that couch during long haul shifts--and a vase to the right of the double doors, the rest of the room is entirely utilitarian. Filing cabinets, bookshelves, a few boxes with active case files in them.

It’s Lin to a tee. Thoroughly practical, borderline spartan, but what is there is more than you could afford in a lifetime.

You politely turn down Ryu’s offer of tea or coffee, then set your massage table and bag on the floor. You pace a short circuit back and forth, mentally filing through what you know about Lin and how her body bears out physical stress. Any injury is liable to have aggravated her hip, given the body’s tendency to compensate to avoid pain. Combine that with her scars and her left side’s propensity to knot up… she’ll probably need some stretching and healing work before I could even try to adjust her--

The doors open again --and in walks Lin Beifong.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head back. “Let me guess --you didn’t have time to see a healer earlier, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

Lin’s eyebrows spike to her hairline. She blinks, then holds up her hand. “Whoa, no. I’m fine.”

“Cut the hippobullshit, Lin. Your personal secretary called me here--”

“It’s not for me,” Lin interjects. She glances behind her, then closes the doors before continuing. “It’s… for one of the younger officers. Something of a situation.”

Your brows draw together as you frown. “If they’re seriously injured, they should go to the hospital--”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He was…” Lin grimaces as her voice trails off, “...advised to see someone like you after getting injured during the dock explosion debacle, but he’s… not comfortable with the thought of getting adjusted.”

“Oh.” You blink, wind going out of your sails as the panic ebbs. “And… your assistant called me…”

“I asked her to,” Lin clarifies. “I know I can trust you to handle this right.”

Something warm and heavy settles in your chest at the thought that Lin trusts you, especially with the well-being of someone that’s clearly important to her. You gulp hard and ignore the way your eyes are starting to sting. “Oh. Thanks.” 

The sound of footsteps and chatter outside Lin’s office draws both your attention.

Ryu opens the doors and lets two young men in --one shorter and stocky, the other taller, leaner.

“--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”

“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

The assistant smiles knowingly, nods, then slips out of the room.

“Okay, sure,” Bolin concedes, still wincing. “But I promise, I’m totally fine.”

You hold up your hands and take a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Understood.” You staunchly ignore the way your pulse spikes when Lin sits next to you --Spirits, the effect this woman has on you--and turn your attention to the other man. You introduce yourself and extend your hand.

He takes it --firm grip, but not painful. “I’m Mako.” He nods to the younger man. “I’m his brother.”

“Ah, wonderful.” You smile warmly at the brothers. “How long have you two been on the force?” 

***

It’s easy to get the boys talking --or, rather, it’s easy to get Bolin talking.

Mako’s a harder platypusbear egg to crack, but there are small things to pick up on; the way he frowns whenever Bolin winces in pain, for instance, tells you he’s genuinely concerned about his brother. He sits a little straighter whenever he looks over at Lin, but he’s not sweating or cowering in front of her, which you take to mean that he wants to impress her, to earn her approval.

He’s also watching you closely --which is fair, considering you likely scare his brother.

You meet his scrutiny with a relaxed, polite smile and do your best to convey ‘I’m here to help, please trust me,’ through your eyes and posture.

Bolin’s far more relaxed around Lin --almost remarkably so. He leans back against the couch as much as he comfortably can, and actually jokes with her (or tries to, but he doesn’t seem deterred whenever Lin doesn’t respond with more than a twitch of an eyebrow).

You also catch him looking towards Lin whenever he talks about an aspect of his job, a hopeful smile on his face, which then broadens every time she nods or confirms whatever he’s saying.

Honestly, it’s adorable.

(Lin’s also an interesting one to watch in all of this. She’s still as stoic as ever, but she doesn’t roll her eyes at Bolin’s lame jokes or talk down to Mako despite him being miles lower in rank than her. If anything, the air you’re getting from her is… warm. Almost maternal.

It’s wonderful to see.)

“I’ve been studying for the detective’s exam, though,” Bolin chirps with a bright smile. “Mako says I’m doing pretty good.”

You grin, then shoot a playful glance at Lin. “And your thoughts, Chief?”

Lin smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. “They’re both green --but, with time and training, they’ll be excellent members of the police force.”

There’s no missing the way both boys glow under Lin’s praise; Bolin outright beams, and while Mako’s more subtle, you still catch the small, pleased smile that flickers across his features.

You smile.

There’s a brief pause in the conversation when Ryu walks in with a tea set. She sets it on the coffee table between the two benches, then leaves with a nod when Lin waves her off.

You murmur a quiet “Thank you” when Lin fills your cup, then turn your attention back to Bolin. Time to try and make forward progress. “So, what happened to your neck?”

Bolin turns his head to look at you --and promptly winces. “What? What do you mean? How did you know?”

“You’re not the only detective,” you say with a wink. You smile when he chuckles, then gestures to his neck and head. “You’re compensating. You’re tilting your head to one side to avoid using the injured muscles. You probably didn’t even realize it.”

Bolin’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He tries to straighten his neck, then grimaces and lets out a yelp. “Ow!”

“Just leave it be for now,” you interject, holding one hand out to stop him. “You won’t be able to force it to straighten out on your own. Best leave it to the professionals.”

He offers you a weak smile. “And that’s you?”

You smile and nod. “That’s me. I’m a chiropractor and massage therapist; I specialize in scar tissue treatment and injury rehabilitation. Started my degree at Atege Medical University in the Northern Water Tribe, then finished it here at Republic City Medical University, and then I did my training here in Republic City at Kyoshi Rehabilitation Center. About… oh, five years ago, I moved to the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility.”

Mako raises one thick eyebrow in assessment. “So that’s… what, seven years?”

You snort. “Flattering, but no. Try closer to twelve. Medical school and residency takes a long time for chiropractors, too.” You spare a moment to watch Bolin --he’s paled since you’ve started talking about being a chiropractor, and the rest of his body’s gone tense--then try getting to the point once more. “What happened to your neck?”

He grimaces and rubs the side of his neck. “I was at the docks when the explosion went off. I didn’t get hit by the debris or anything, but the shockwave knocked a lot of us over.”

You nod along. “That makes sense. Considering how close you were, the shockwave might’ve been enough to throw something out of alignment.”

Bolin grimaces. He hesitates, then offers you a nervous smile. “Look, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine. I promise! I’ve had tons of injuries before --used to do competitive pro-bending, all that jazz. I know how to handle these kinds of things: a little heat, some stretching, and everything will clear up before too long.”

“Street beat’s a physically demanding job,” Lin interjects. She arches an eyebrow when Bolin opens his mouth, then continues when he closes it. “I can’t have you on the duty roster if you’re hobbled.”

“Not to mention that if something’s out of alignment, you could make it worse by stretching,” you add with a concerned frown. “And things are likely to get worse without treatment, too. I know this isn’t your favorite idea,” you say with a sympathetic smile, “but it really is best to handle things early before they become bigger problems down the road.”

“It’ll be okay,” Mako assures his younger brother. He puts one arm around Bolin’s shoulders. “Chief’s the one who called her in; she wouldn’t ask some quack.”

The corner of your mouth turns up at the commendation, but your mirth fades when you watch Bolin cover his face with shaking hands. You cock your head to the side, listening, then purse your lips when you hear a quiet sniffle. “What is it about adjustment that scares you so much?”

Bolin shrugs (and winces), then waves his hand dismissively with an unsteady smile. “Eh, it’s nothing. No big deal to let someone jerk around your neck like crazy; not like it’s gonna break or anything.” He grimaces, then ducks his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “That’d just be stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you assure him. You duck your head so you can catch his gaze, then smile understandingly when he looks at you. “It’s not. Self-preservation is one of our most natural, baseline instincts. Besides, you’re hardly the first client to be scared of getting adjusted.”

Bolin straightens gingerly. “I’m not?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I work with a lot of trauma patients; several of them have anxiety over being touched and adjusted. And I’ve had a lot of people ask me about snapping necks, believe it or not.”

Bolin turns his head to one side and assesses you warily. “And… what do you tell them?”

“The truth: I don’t use remotely enough force to snap a neck,” you say, “nor am I working at the right angles to cause a break. It’s not as easy as all the pulp fiction novels make it seem.” When Bolin doesn’t relax completely, you start mulling over other ideas to help convince him. Chances are he’s never been adjusted before, given how nervous he is, meaning he doesn’t have any previous experience to apply to what I’m saying. Short of letting him watch an adjustment-- You snap your fingers when a lightbulb turns on in your mind. “What if… what if you could watch me adjust someone else? That way, you’d be able to see that it’s perfectly safe.”

Bolin quirks his mouth to the side. “...I guess. It couldn’t hurt.”

You nod, then turn to Lin. “Would you be willing to let me adjust you, since you’ve already been through it all before?”

Lin nods without hesitation, then smirks. “I’m guessing I’ll need to take my armor off.”

“Well, since I’d rather adjust your back than crush my hand, yes,” you quip back. You shoot a reassuring smile at Bolin, then stand. “Let me set up my table.”

...

Bolin, for all his warmth and magnanimity, doesn’t coax along easily. It takes adjusting both Lin and Mako before he agrees to it (who has scarring in his left arm from a lightning injury that he got, according to him, while taking down Kuvira’s giant mechadroid less than half a year ago, and if you get a little too caught up in analyzing his injury and talking about treatment plans and Lin has to remind you --albeit subtly--that this is her office and she has work to do, well, it’s only a tribute to your commitment to your career.

Anyway.)

Between the three of you, though, you manage to get Bolin onto your massage table so you can start working on him.

He grunts as you dig into the muscles that run along his neck. “I know what you said about not using enough force, but it sounds like you’re breaking something.”

“I get it,” you laugh. “What you’re hearing, though, is the release of gas that builds up in the joints and tissue, plus the joints and ligaments being adjusted back into place.” You let up for a moment so you can reposition your thumbs, then press down again.  “Okay, deep breath in… and out… good; just like that.”

Some light examination and prodding with your waterbender had revealed the culprits: stuck rib heads in the upper back, a few misaligned vertebrae in the neck, and some very irritated and inflamed muscles. Painful, but easy to fix with the right treatment.

You curl your fingers, using your waterbending to knead the muscles in Bolin’s right shoulder. “Oh, come on… I know you’re not happy, but if you could please relax for me…”

Bolin groans when the muscle finally unkinks. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”

“I bet,” you laugh. You bend the rest of the water back into your skein, then put some oil on his skin and start working the spot with your hands.

“Is it hard to work around injuries?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the massage table’s headrest.

You make the grunt equivalent of a shrug. “It depends on the location and what state of healing it’s in. Sometimes, it means I can’t do a normal adjustment --or do one at all, really; some injuries or scars mean that moving the joints and ligaments around would cause further damage to the site. Other times, it’s a matter of waiting until everything’s healed, and then I can do normal adjustments again.”

“How can you tell which to do --oooh, right there.”

Your lips turn up in a small smile, and you keep working a tense, knotted muscle in his upper back. “The patient’s medical history tells me a lot. X-Ray imaging helps, too, if there is any --and I can usually get a good feel for what’s wrong with my waterbending.” You keep going until the muscle releases, then pat Bolin’s shoulder. “Okay, I think you’re ready for adjustment.”

As expected, he tenses. His neck works as he gulps, and when he speaks again, his voice comes out high-pitched and thready. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t try if I didn’t think you’d adjust properly.” When Bolin doesn’t respond --or move--you kneel down so you can see his face through the hole in the head of the massage table. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take this nice and slow, alright? I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do before I do it.”

Bolin nods, gulps again, then flips onto his back.

“I need you to sit up so I can put the adjustment board under your back.” You slip the board into place, then put a pillow under his head before having him shift lower on the table. “Okay, good. I’ll adjust your middle and upper back first, like I did on Lin. You might feel some discomfort in your upper back because of how the rib heads are stuck, alright?”

Bolin nods, then offers you a feeble smile. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy for you?”

You wink. “I’m stronger than I look. Whenever you’re ready, cross your arms over your chest.” Once he does what you ask, you adjust his arms so they’re in the right position. “Okay, curl your chin down against your chest… good. Alright, it’s gonna be just like how you saw on Lin. I’m gonna help lift you up, I’ll put my hand under your back, and then I’ll lay you down so I can adjust your back. Sound good?”

Bolin clenches his jaw, but meets your gaze and nods minutely.

“Alright. You ready?” When he nods again, you do exactly as you said you would --help Bolin curl upwards, put your hand under his back, against the board, then adjust the position of your arm around his shoulders. “Alright, deep breath in… and out.”

The series of adjustments up his spine go without a hitch. You grin down at Bolin after the last adjustment and congratulate him for doing so well. “You took that like a champ!”

Bolin blinks, startled, then smiles. “Eh, I’ve been told I’m a quick learner.”

“Oh, you’re an absolute natural.” You grin when he chuckles, then step towards the head of the table. “I’ll give you a minute before I do anything else, but is it okay if I feel around your neck to see where the tension is?”

Bolin pales. His eyes go misty, but he nods regardless.

You murmur a quiet “thank you,” then put one hand on each side of his neck and start prodding at the muscles. “Well, it’s better after the massage work and the adjustment.” You rub your thumb against his trapezius muscle, then grimace when it refuses to relax for you. “Actually…” You take your hands off his neck and rifle through your bag. “I think I’m going to use an activator on your neck, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“What’s that?” Bolin asks, voice fraught with panic.

You hold the device up for him to see. “I use it to tap the side of your neck; it helps loosen up your joints so that when I adjust you, we get you back to your full range of motion.” You fire the device so he can see, and your stomach sinks when you see tears well up in his eyes. “I can use it on your forearm, if you want, soyou can feel how hard it’s going to be.”

Bolin swallows hard, then nods. He holds his arm up --then blinks when you press the tip of the activator against his arm and fire it. “Oh. I thought it’d be a lot stronger than that.”

“Tui and La, no,” you say with a laugh. “The neck’s a delicate instrument; I’m not trying to make things worse for you.”

Bolin smiles shakily, but it slips back to a frown after a few seconds. “Is… Will it hurt?”

“I’ve never had a patient complain before,” you say, sincere. “I’d be stunned if you felt any pain whatsoever from this.” You smile reassuringly when he gives you a questioning look, then place the tip of the activator against his neck when he nods. “Alright. I’m going to tap you a few times on each side of the neck, then I’ll take another feel at what your joints and muscles are doing. Okay?”

“Can you… give me a minute?”

“Of course.” You pull the activator away from his neck, then place a hand on his shoulder when he inhales shakily. “Hey, deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.” After a moment he nods again, and you press the activator back against his neck and fire it.

“...It kind of tickles.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “That’s a new one.” You finish working on both sides of his neck, then tuck the device back in your bag before putting your hands on his neck once more. “Alright, right now I’m just going to stretch your muscles some more and get your head into position, okay?”

Bolin clenches his fists at his side. “Could you --do you think you could give me a countdown before you, y’know, do it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, then shake your head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t want you tensing right as I try to adjust you; you’re liable to get hurt that way.”

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Lin says when Bolin lets out a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t have called her if she wasn’t the best.”

You duck your head to hide a shy smile, then try to focus past the warm glow spreading through your chest. “Okay, Bolin. Deep breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth… good, just like that.” You slowly turn his neck, angling his head until you feel the right resistance. “Tilt your chin up; I’m gonna stretch your neck a little.” You tug gently until the muscles loosen, then surreptitiously keep working him to the proper angle. “Good… just stretching… feeling everything out…” You adjust the position of your hands on his neck. “Another deep breath in, then let it all out.” You wait for him to exhale --for his shoulders to relax--then jerk his head to the side.

Bolin grunts, then shoots you a wide eyed look. “You said you were just stretching me?”

You smile apologetically. “I needed to make sure you were relaxed. Makes things better for both you and me. Did you feel any pain?”

“No,” Bolin says after a moment of consideration. “It felt… pretty good, actually.”

“Good!” You start massaging the other side of his neck. “You think you’re still alive?”

He chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m still breathing, yeah.”

“Good stuff,” you joke right back. “Means less malpractice suits for me.” You grin when he laughs, then start stretching the other side of his neck. “Let’s do this side, and then I’ll do your lower back and get you back to work.”

***

“Sorry that took so long.”

Lin waves a hand at your apology. “It’s fine. I figured the kid would take a while to calm down enough for an adjustment.” She offers you a small smile. “Thanks for making the trip up here.”

“Of course.” You resume packing up your things, then let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t you that needed an adjustment. I damn near had a heart attack when the receptionist told me your assistant called.”

“I told you I was fine.”

You shoot Lin a flat, unimpressed stare. “Right, because you’re the type to always consider the limits and needs of your physical well being.” You roll your eyes when she merely arches an eyebrow at you, then zip the carrying case for your collapsible table shut. “How does the department handle billing?”

“Send the bill to my assistant,” Lin answers, writing down the proper mailing address on a slip of paper before handing it over to you. “She’ll file it with the department’s insurance company. The department will pay out the rest.”

You nod and reach out to take the paper--

Lin holds it back. “Write the bill for all three adjustments. Clear?”

You smirk and pluck the paper out of her fingers. “Pay me more. Fine by me.” You grin when she rolls her eyes, then cast your gaze down to her desk.

It’s a nice desk. Solid, polished wood, with engravings and etchings of Earth Kingdom style patterns.

Unbidden, images of Lin fucking you on her desk --bending you over it, laying you out on your back, sitting in her chair while you bury your face between her legs--flood your name.

Lin either picks up on the spike in your pulse, or maybe she knows your facial expressions well enough to know when you’re horny. Either way, she smirks up at you. “Problem?”

“No…” You absently trace your fingers along the edge of her desk, then shoot her an impish smile before grabbing your things. “Call me when you have a free night.”

You can hear Lin chuckle behind you as you walk out of her office.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 3

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers / bug gets meta

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Mia.

Mia, Mia, Mia. 

Oh she was lovely. You’d been chatting with her on Baekhyun’s phone for the better part of an hour and for a moment you forgot all about the man who now laid with his head on the other end of the sofa with his feet stretched over your lap and a phone held up to his face.

He was scrolling through something, giggling and typing. 

The phone you had down in your lap vibrated with another incoming message. 

Laughing emojis, a row of them. She was sharp. Wit and charm came through in her messages and you found yourself responding with an equally long string of laughing faces. The ones with tears leaking out their eyes. She felt so damn familiar and comfortable the moment you got past the awkward introductions and you really started talking to her; the jokes were easy and the topics were something you knew enough about to fake your way though thanks to Baekhyun’s many passions and his absolute inability to shut up about them. He’d held you hostage with so many video games and anime episodes, you knew exactly what she was talking about now. You felt like a complete pseudo pro. A well-read scammer. A faker but a weirdly genuine one. 

You went back to her profile and dragged each of her pictures across the screen with the tip of your finger, switching between them all. She was pretty. She was smart. She was interesting to talk to. She was perfect. Just perfect. A steady warmth had seeped into your chest as you looked at her. It was welcome and actually felt nice at first; if not a little bit unexpected. But the longer you looked at her smile, the more intrusive that warmth felt. After too long, it was sticky and almost too warm. You struggled to breathe deeply. You were breathing normally, there was absolute nothing off about your breathing, but each breath you took suddenly failed to satiate. Why were your lungs suddenly missing oxygen? They were misbehaving without any reason to. You closed out her pictures and returned to the chat window. 

She was asking about the latest episode of an anime. Something that was in its final season. Something you were sure Baekhyun would also be watching soon if he hadn’t seen it already. You could feel her excitement in her words. Something epic must have happened.

“Baek did you watch Attack on Colossatron last night — the latest episode?”

“Not yet—no spoilers, I’ll kill you.” His response was quick and you responded in a similar fashion in text to Mia; without the death threats. You weren’t quite that comfortable with her yet. 

Baekhyun shifted and moved a foot behind you, digging it under your butt into the gap of the couch cushion. You ignored the intrusion because you were talking to Mia. His soon to be brand new girlfriend by the looks of the conversation. You caught what you were certain was subtle flirting just below the contexts. Then outright flirting. She was sending you a picture from the dating profile you’d set up for Baekhyun. She had to have saved the picture to send it. It would now be saved on the camera roll of her phone where she would likely look at it again and again, admiring how good Baekhyun looked in it. 

She was commenting on how unexpectedly handsome you were and how most of the men who shared interests with her did not look like you. 

She was asking for a picture of you—err, of Baekhyun. She was having trouble believing such an attractive man like you was real and she actually used the word catfishing, careful to insist that she wasn't accusing you of anything; just that she was sure you looked just like some celebrity she saw on twitter and one couldn’t be too careful. 

But you were quick to cooperate and to agree with her need for assuredness. As a woman, yourself, you understood her suspicions instantly.  Yes, Baekhyun did look shockingly attractive in the profile pictures you posted of him. You could see how someone might doubt that he was real and he lived only 5 miles away and was now sweeping her off her feet with his engaging conversations and hilarious jokes. You’d be sure and make him thank you well for this later. 

The pictures of him were surprising, even to you, and you lived with the guy. You saw him every single day. Yet something about seeing him in these pictures, dressed in that black button up shirt and jeans and looking at the camera with a breathtaking natural smile; one he gave you so easily that night when you told him just how good he looked all dressed up. 

“Peanut, look at you! You look so fancy.” 

“Wow, I cant believe how handsome you are.” 

It only took a couple of sincere compliments for the man to unfold before you and the results on camera pulled you into an uncomfortable and unwelcome thoughtfulness when you looked at them alone later. Of course you knew he was handsome. You just hadn’t been prepared for how very attractive he would look on camera. 

You got all his best angles and the man had taken you off guard when you’d bravely asked him to give you a sexy look. 

It happened just at the end of your little makeshift photo-shoot. You were both a little tired, you could tell with the way he slowed down with his talking and his movements. You could always tell when Baekhyun was tired. Sometimes before even he knew it. 

The sun had gone down and you’d pulled him from your room into the living room where the lights from the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, creating a soft glow on his face. The moon was full outside. It was a chilly winter night and snowflakes drifted down to the street below. You were feeling perhaps a bit romantic. Perhaps you were a little bit grateful to be inside and warm and spending your time capturing the pretty face of your annoying best friend. 

You’d gotten a bit bold with the pictures and he’d been behaving so well, not even complaining when you asked him to lay down on the floor so you could capture the beautiful city-scape in the background of the shot. He’d gone still while you set up; moving furniture and turning on a lamp in the corner for more lighting on his features — you wondered briefly if maybe he had fallen asleep. 

You laid down beside him holding your camera up in the right spot to get something nice. His eyes had closed up and his breathing was even and slow and when you’d softly called his name with your camera acting as a barrier in between your faces, you’d expected it to act as more of a buffer than it did. 

“Baekhyun?”

When he heard you call him, his eyes opened and he turned his head toward the sound of your voice; the shift in his eyes was stark and breathtaking and he blinked them closed and then very slowly he opened his eyes again for you. 

“Hmm?” His lips stayed closed when he hummed a response.

What exactly were you going for here? The mood was set. The lighting and the scenery were in place. Hell, even the position of him was set —him laying beside you on the floor in the middle of the night like this when everyone knew it was much too late to be entertaining any of this nonsense. The longer you looked at him the more shades of pink you saw in his cheeks. The pinkness matched his lips and the lighting made every bit of warm flush on his face tell such a romantic story. He looked so very warm and inviting. 

You took a shot and you said it. If the picture came out well, that would be rewarding enough. 

But, you didn't actually expect a real sexy look. Not really. You’d expected something silly, or something goofy or something with an awkward smile. Maybe it was the nighttime, or the way he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and just let it hang open with the clear smoothness of his chest visible, but when he pulled his chin down and ran a hand through his styled hair, bringing it down just a little bit; giving it a messy and tousled look, you had to grip the camera tighter to keep from doing something dumb like accidentally dropping it. You could not understand the flash of nervousness you felt run through you. 

He lifted a single eyebrow. You had called him and it was clear from the inactivity in the camera that you weren’t taking any pictures of him. 

“Hmm?” He repeated the hum that came from the back of his throat. His eyebrow danced and it was the only movement on his face.

You inhaled a breath and you did it.

“You look incredibly sexy right now.” 

Despite the camera, despite the props you’d placed around him just so, his eyes seemed to seek out yours with purpose; one hand on the floor was within touching distance and the other hand rested over his forehead from when he’d ran it through his hair, the tips of his fingers landed over one of his eyes and it was so perfect. You felt goosebumps all over your skin.  

The moment his eyes locked into yours you gripped the camera as if your life depended on it. When his lips slowly parted with a gentle exhale and the tip of his tongue appeared between his parted lips and slowly touched against the corner of his bottom lip a surge of heat rose up the back of your throat. 

“I do?” He said with his eyes on yours as if he was looking directly at you; as if the camera did not even exist. 

You hit the button and you heard the shutter click. 

You allowed yourself a moment to look at the picture Mia had sent you. Only a moment though because she was talking again. She was instructing you to send a new picture right now, with your left hand holding your right earlobe. It was the kind of specific sort of picture that would prove that you really did exist. 

“Peanut,” you reached down and tapped his leg three times quickly, “Peanut, our new girlfriend wants a picture of you right now with your,” you held up your hands in front of your face, figuring out which was the left one, “left hand holding your right earlobe.” You held up your left hand for him to see and he pulled the phone down from his face to look at you. After a second his opposite hand was raised and he gripped his earlobe with his fingertips. 

“Is that your left hand?” You raised your left hand higher and lifted your eyebrows as you shook your head once. You felt a sense of urgency in getting this picture to Mia as fast as possible to calm her doubts. 

“It’s my left. My left is your right, stupid. Why do I have to do this?” 

You snapped the picture close enough that it would look like a selfie and sent the image to Mia. She was satisfied enough to send an emoji with heart eyes and you could feel victory at your fingertips. You could hardly believe this was working. 

“She thought you weren’t real.” You said in between messages and Baekhyun’s leg was shaking behind your back. He’d been sitting still for too long here and the nervous energy was building, you could feel it trying to escape from his limbs. He probably needed to go for a run or something or you were in for a long and noisy night of singing or dancing or whatever other shenanigans he thought you needed to suffer though. He hummed a non-response to your answer, clearly so distracted by what was happening on his screen that he couldn’t be bothered to give you any more of his attention right now. 

Baekhyun was not so quietly giggling under his breath and you looked up caught by that very particular sound of it. Something felt familiar in the sound of that giggle; more, the intentions behind it. The particular sneakiness of it maybe made you look up and it took you another second of listening to the way he stifled himself, tried to control the sounds of his laughter before a realization dawned and recognition struck you on the head. 

Baekhyun couldn’t have been giggling, laughing, texting, having a grand ol’ time on his phone because you had his phone in your hands. You had been talking to Mia for a whole damn hour, who in the hell was Baekhyun talking to and was that your phone he was using? 

“Baekhyun who are you talking to on my phone?”

His stomach bounced with stifled laugher below his shirt and he was typing again. His eyes secured on the screen of your phone and not at all looking at you. 

“Baek, who is that. What are you doing?” It wasn’t that you didn't trust him with your private conversations. He knew more about you than probably any other human being on the planet. It wasn't the problem with him knowing it. The problem was with that laughter. The problem was with what Byun Baekhyun might do with all of the things he knew about you and with whoever the hell had the misfortune of texting you at the exact moment when he had your phone.

“Ben,” Baekhyun said after a long pause and you searched through your recent memory for a person who had that name. You’d matched with some guys last week but you were certain there was no one with that name. 

“Ben? Who the hell is Ben? I don't know a Ben” You were leaning now and Baekhyun bent his legs up as soon as you moved, blocking your lean with his knobby knees. You leaned on the other side of them and he moved them to block again. 

The maneuver brought out the panic in you. He was blocking you from your own phone. He was up to something and he was now blocking you from reaching for your phone and you had just nearly murdered him in the kitchen over cheese, did he really want to do this again? 

“Give me my phone. Baek, who the shit is Ben?”

“I don't know. Some guy named Ben. Said he was some lady’s nephew or cousin or something. He knew your number and he knew your name, and wow he is—”

Oh god. Your co-worker Susie had done it. The son-of-a-bitch had actually given your phone number out this time even though you had successfully, you’d thought, dodged their high pressure tactics to set you up with some eligible bachelor who would probably be 10 years too old for you, balding, with bad teeth, or bad habits, or would be obsessed with his car or his muscles or some sports team and you’d have to make nice small talk with someone who’s interests, frankly, bored you to death until you could politely let the man down. 

And now, what was Baekhyun telling him? What kinds of horrific lies was this little gremlin giggling about over there. You tilted and reached for him again and he moved his knees again. 

“Bug, how- how do you spell hemorrhoids? Hem—hem—er—roids, no that’s not right. Let me look it up. It’s important that I represent you well. A strong, intelligent woman who can talk about her hemorrhoids.” 

You leaped then, over the stupid knees you flew and you landed hard — seated across his belly and the pained grunt he let out was satisfying to hear. He doubled up in pain while simultaneously shoving your phone underneath himself into the softness of the couch cushions and you watched it disappear somewhere below his butt where he assumed you would not dare to reach. 

“Baekhyun,” you said in as calm a voice as you could pry from your lips. Your teeth gritted together as you spoke and much of the sweetness was lost in the delivery.

Your hands were feeling the softness of the cushions that he laid on. You followed an arm that went down and disappeared behind his back and your fingers traveled to the end where you felt no phone at all, only his empty hand that you pulled up. You did the same on the other side, moving to the other hand and bringing it back empty too. On his face he wore a smug, self-satisfied smile. 

“Peanut,” your next attempt at a compromise pulled his name out in a sweeter tone and his lips turned up into a mischievous grin with teeth bared and all. To your own ears though, you really laid it on thick. This was your darling Peanut. You let your whine come through and you pulled your lips into a pouty frown.

“Bug,” he said, mimicking your overly saccharine tone with a tiny lift of an eyebrow on his face and a fake frown that didn’t touch the rabid joy in his eyes.

“Give me back my phone,” you said and your hands dug into his ribs hard as he reached for your wrists and quickly grabbed to hold you still with both of his free hands before you could do any actual damage to him. 

You struggled against his strong hands, reaching with out-stretched fingers despite his hold on you for a few more tickles before he tightened the grip and you could not connect any more attacks. 

“Give me back my phone,” he giggled back, again mocking your ineffective attempts to overpower him. You simply couldn’t do it. He was much stronger than you were.  

The childishness of this brat! You closed your eyes up tight as you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath. You could feel close to the edge again. Close to losing control. How many murder attempts did you need to commit today? Maybe you needed to enroll in anger management classes. You tried to count to ten again but gave up halfway through to threaten him again. 

“I’m going to get mad, give me my phone.” The friendly tone you had forced was gone and you could hear the actual anger in your voice now. Any reasonable person would concede. Any normal human adult would laugh it off playfully, say ‘okay, okay, I was only kidding’ and hand the thing over. A normal person would even apologize for taking it in the first place. 

Baekhyun was not a normal person.

“Ohhh, I’m going to get mad,” you heard him say in that same mocking voice and no amount of calming breaths could touch it. You could count to ten thousand and still want to destroy him. You squirmed all over and pulled at your wrists that he held in his grip and his hold tightened the more you moved until you could only lean, you could only fight back with one thing. The more you fought him, the tighter his muscles constricted and it became evident that you simply could not win this way. Your hands were useless to you. Only your head was free. You’d have to use it to your advantage, but how? 

You could headbutt him; break his nose. Break your head. Make both of you take a trip to the hospital during a global pandemic. Catch the dreaded disease. Lose your sense of taste and smell and potentially infect someone vulnerable that you loved. 

He was like a cat. Only interested in playing with something until it was dead and then losing interest after he couldn’t torture it anymore. You couldn't simply play dead. He had you trapped and you needed that phone back. 

You could bite him. Break the skin. Mean business for real. Make him bleed and make him cry. Make him pay for all of it. Give him a nasty scar on his hand, or on his neck or on his chest, maybe rip off his earlobe like Tyson did to Holyfield. Send him to the hospital during a global pandemic. Go to prison for assault charges. Get a nasty infection from a prison tattoo. Die.

Your struggle for a plan made you go physically still and you looked at his face; into his eyes and in those eyes sat all the usual bullshit and toddler behavior that you usually saw when he had latched on to something to tease you with, something he could play with and have fun with at your expense. Something he could exploit. 

You could use your mouth. 

You could use your lips.

You could use your tongue. 

What is this? Some sort of trashy rom-com? Would you really stoop so low, so early in the story? Kiss him to distract him, become a walking, talking, kissing cliché and an unoriginal failure of a human being? Get scolded and told to leave his home. Become homeless during a global pandemic. Without high speed internet access, lose your easy breezy data entry job. Get hungry and get cold. Possibly end up selling a kidney on the black market to make ends meet. Get a nasty infection from the shady surgery. Die. 

No. This wasn’t a cheesy romance story. This was your life. You’d have to live with the consequences of your choices and there was no way you would steal his first kiss just to get petty revenge.

This wasn’t enemies-to-lovers, this a violent revenge plot and you were pissed off god-dammit. How dare this idiot get you into such a compromising, such an undignified, such a frustratingly suggestive position and hold you captive like this. 

How dare he still be smiling through your entire inner monologue?

Didn't he know anything at all about women and the powers they possessed in their bodies? 

He flinched visibly when you dropped down; lowered your chest to his chest and you were face to face with the man. Your quick movement startled him and he loosened the grip around your wrists enough for you to rotate them before he tightened his hold again and watched you with wide eyes. That grin finally, finally fell from his mouth. His lips sat down-turned and pink. He’d gone positively pink with your quick movement. Your plan to move into him instead of struggling to get away clearly startled him. You felt the advantage at once. 

When you moved again it was only your eyeballs and it was to look pointedly at his lips before you pulled your eyes back up to look into his eyes. The slow movement made a bold statement, even to someone as clueless as he was. You were on top of him. He could most definitely feel the entirety of your weight on his body and your breasts were flush against his chest. And now, you had just looked down at his pink lips. 

Whatever steady and in-control breathing he had, stuttered and his body below yours went rigid with his eyes wide; obviously unsure of what you were about to do and much too on edge to take his eyes off of you. 

What became clear as you stared at his flushed face up close was that he had not thought this far ahead in his plan.

He probably didn't even have one to begin with. 

You moved closer to him and his hands released their hold on you again. You heard a gasp for air when his hand let go. You weren’t convinced he let go on purpose. There seemed to be a disconnected look inside his eyes right now. 

Instead of going straight for his earlobe and squeezing the shit out of it to teach him a lesson, you kept this going. You could not help it. You felt drunk on your own power and you didn't actually want to hurt him. You just wanted the damn phone so you could see what damage he had already done and begin cleaning up the messes. 

He swallowed and his lips opened to speak.

“W-What are you doing?” 

Nervous and trembling and uncertain; oh he was all of the above. Your free hand was moving now, traveling down the length of his arm to his flank when he moved again, this move felt much more frantic than the last. He grabbed your wrist more gently than before when you got close enough to touch him and he pulled your hand back. A feeble attempt it seemed, made by a man who had just come to his senses again after being in a daze. 

You leaned in. “Peanut,” you said directly into the space below his ear. You could smell him here. He smelled nice. Clean, and vaguely familiar. You remembered your shampoo that he still had and made a mental note to get it back from him. The scent of it on him was different than on you. The breath you took at his neck definitely smelled different. 

He was frozen stiff and when you pulled up to look at his face, his eyes were closed. He swallowed again and you reveled in the realization that you had not heard a single peep out of him since you began your counter-attack. Not a giggle, not a mocking laugh. Not a silly impression of what your voice sounded like to him. He was as quiet as a mouse. It paid to be pro-active. You felt free, as if you’d just been armed with some new very effective weapon that you had no idea would work so well. 

He had your hand again and was pulling — keeping you from reaching below his body to reach where you were certain your phone was stashed. Right here below his left butt cheek. Maybe even inside his back pocket. Either way it was there and you were centimeters away from it. 

So you went in again. This time it was a whisper. This time you went too far. You felt the softness of his neck brush against your bottom lip.

“Give it to me, while I am still being nice.” 

It was the exhale from your lips after you spoke that seemed to do it. The puff of air from your parted lips that drifted over his ear and warmed his neck, you felt him squirm below you and his hands moved releasing you all over and all at once. 

He was going now. He was leaving. You felt it happening below you. 

It was a tactic you’d used before when he tried to grab a hold of you and throw you onto your bed, or when he tried to wrestle something away from you in the kitchen. 

He went boneless. When you did it he would shout and laugh and lose his grip on you and you’d use the distraction to drop to the floor and roll out of his grip in one motion. It was much more difficult for him to do right now, being directly under you on the couch like this, but somehow he was vanishing fast. 

He moved so quickly it was like he melted from beneath you and he was pushing you off at the same time as he rolled, simply rolled from the sofa down onto the floor below in a single motion of retreat. 

You know that was where he went because you heard the rough thump of his body hitting the floor hard and you heard the grunt as he vocalized the pain of gravity having it’s final say. You were pushed with a force that made you roll onto your butt and below your legs you felt the rectangle of plastic and glass of your cell phone. 

He was moving fast. But he was also talking as he did it. 

“You are mean,” was what he said and he was halfway through the living room by the time you registered his complaint. 

Something about his fit irked you though. Was it such a big deal — so out of the question? Did he hate the idea of you kissing him, even if on accident that he had to overreact like this. 

“Oh settle down, It’s not like I was going to actually kiss you, Baekhyun.”

You’d expected to hear his bedroom door slam shut but he’d stopped with his hand on his door and turned his face in your direction. His expression was odd. 

Baekhyun was rarely upset with you, so you had very little experience with what he looked like when he was. He had been upset with others around you, but it wasn’t ever directed at you.

“I know you weren’t.” 

You could see it from where you sat and it made you stand up. Wait, was he really upset? At you? Because you pretended like you were going to steal his first kiss? Because you took something so precious to him and weaponized it against him? 

He was breathing hard and you took a step in his direction. 

“Baek, I was just—” 

“—trying to get your phone, I know.” His voice was cold and his words were short.

You suddenly felt like absolute shit. It moved fast and it overwhelmed you. You’d made a mistake and Baekhyun was upset at you. You’d acted carelessly and thoughtlessly and you’d hurt him. 

“We...we were playing around, I was just playing around, I didn’t mean it, Peanut. I’m sorry.” You could not help the thickness in your voice. You could not help how your voice cracked as you spoke up quickly, needing to get the apology out into the air before he could misunderstand any further. 

Before he could wake up and realize how low of a person you could be when you really set your mind to it. Before he could understand that maybe you didn't deserve so many chances to get your life together and get a better job, or be a better roommate, or make more money and pay more rent, or delete your facebook, or create better passwords. 

You realized you were crying when the wetness dripped down your chin and landed on your arm and as soon as you noticed you lifted both of your hands up to cover your face — before he saw, before he noticed or heard. You held your breath to keep from hiccupping or making any sort of sound at all and you closed your eyes and tried to stop the quiet gasps. 

You succeeded for the most part. 

It was the smell of him though. You did not notice that he moved, but you smelled him again, only this time it came with a warmth that enveloped you where you stood.  

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispered over your head and you inhaled through the snot that filled your nose, unable to get any air through. You gasped through your mouth instead and hiccupped through the breath. 

“You seemed mad at me,” you said into his shirt, the same shirt you’d cried into hours ago. This shirt would have so much of your messes on it by the end of the day. What in the world had gotten into you today? Maybe you were going to start your period soon. This was getting ridiculous. 

His hands rubbed slow and steady circles over your back and until the gasping stopped enough for you to lift your head and look into his face. 

“I’m not,” he said with more conviction the second time and you almost believed it. Had it not been for the strange way his eyes dropped yours so easily you would have. 

You didn't say that though. 

His lips parted once and his eyes grasped yours in that flimsy way again and his lips closed up again as he swallowed it away and didn’t say what he was about to say. 

You shook your head. He had to tell you. Whatever it was, you could work on it, do some self reflecting, or read some self help books. 

“What is it? Tell me.” Your insistence was desperate and his damn eyes refused to stick. It was making you crazy the more you noticed it. 

His mouth opened again and this time he inhaled deep enough to speak for hours and hours. 

“Peanut, what?” 

“Don't—” he began and you closed your mouth and looked into his face, dipping to catch them when his eyes dropped again and again. He noticed the dance you did and you saw the light dance inside his eyes. 

“Don't what? I’ll do it. Or I won’t do it. Whatever, just tell me.” If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking to this man. You could always pull it out. Whatever he had been sitting on, keeping from you, whatever he had deep down inside that was begging to be let out. You could talk to him. He could talk to you. It’s as part of the magic you shared with him. 

“Peanut,” you said again, refusing to let him close up again, refusing to let this go. He had to say his piece for the upset to move behind you both, so you could get past it. 

“Don't use your beauty as a weapon against me.” 

As soon as the words left so did his eyes, but that did not matter because you could not look into his face anymore after he said it either. 

Your…beauty?

Baekhyun didn’t look at you and see beauty. Impossible. You were a mess. Some days you showered. Some days you did your hair. These two events rarely happened on the same day. 

Outside you could pull off some-what put-together and even downright attractive when you wore the miracle bust enhancing bra you bought off some shady website he definitely told you not to enter any credit card info into, but inside you felt like a circus clown wearing a respectable young woman suit. Every day you worked to stuff the oversized shoes into your feet and struggled to zip them up. Every day you painted over your honking red nose with concealer in the hopes that it wouldn’t rain today and give you away. 

“It’s really shitty and really unfair to do to me.” He kept talking and you felt like maybe the ceiling had caved in on you. “I know who I am. I know my place and I know what league I am in.”

He said the word league with a whisper and you stared at his mouth as he spoke such nonsense words you hardly had any thoughts that made any sense inside of your own head. 

League? He was such an amazing person, but league? You’d heard some serious bullshit come out of his mouth in the past, but this? Seriously? 

He was a genius. He was beautiful inside and out and he was such a good person, a good person to you, a good person to his grandmother, a good person to his online friends. He was so good at whatever he wanted to do and he was really fucking sweet when he wasn’t being ridiculous. And even when he was being ridiculous it was so funny you usually didn't mind the ear deafening noise involved. He was a great dancer and an even better singer and he had so much to offer. 

He was shy. He was terribly embarrassed and debilitatingly nervous at the mere idea of talking to any other girl that wasn’t you and he took a whole lot of warming up to until he opened up to you even, but when he finally did, after tiptoeing around him for 4 months after you’d moved in and he finally grabbed a bowl of popcorn and sat beside you on the couch to watch lifetime movies with you, making fun of the writing and the acting the entire time until he was making fun of you for crying at the happy ending. 

He was reliable too. He refused to even entertain the idea of you moving out just because you could no longer afford the previously agreed upon rent after you lost your job. He searched for something to hold you over until you could get back on your feet and while the data entry thing was mind numbing, it was genuinely saving your life most days. You could at least pay your bills. You could at least force him to accept the much lower rent you started paying him again after you got your first paycheck. 

Oh god. League? 

You could feel it building again. The burning in your eyes peaked and you felt your face frowning down dramatically and the tears were flowing more freely than before. 

“You’re such an idiot.” You cried openly and his face changed at once into one of extreme concern. His hands waved over you uselessly, occasionally connecting to pat over your back in some attempt to stop this. 

“You are such a catch, you stupid idiot!” You were wailing very loudly. You could not help it. He was such an idiot. And he was such a catch. 

“Oh my god, are you yelling at me right now? After everything you’ve done to me today, now you are yelling at me and calling me names. Great. Just Great. Here, my face doesn’t hurt, why don't you punch me in the face too.” 

The sarcasm made you half laugh half choke in the middle of a particularly strong sob and you coughed with your mouth open to be able to breathe. Your nose was still useless. 

“Jesus,” he said to himself, “my mouth was open.” 

You were being steered. Your eyes were still closed and you were pushed now. You didn't really want to move but your stubborn legs saved you by taking a step instead of letting you fall flat on your face. You opened your eyes when you felt a fresh cold breeze against the wet surface of your cheeks and you saw in front of you the contents of the freezer. 

There were some frozen veggies. Some ice in a bin. Something meat-like in a freezer bag. And about six different boxes of various ice creams. Most of them chocolate. 

“Get one,” he said and his hand was pushing your elbow up and steering your hand toward the open box of chocolate popsicles. 

You grabbed with your open hand and he pulled your elbow back like you were a claw machine and he was working the lever. 

You grasped the popsicle between both of your hands with a small smile building against your will. 

“Eat it,” he said from behind your head and you were already ripping at the plastic wrapper. You didn’t even have a chance to throw away the wrapper when his hand was pushing at your elbow again. It bent upward and the chocolate plopped right into your open mouth. 

“Bite,” he said. 

You bit. He didn't have to tell you to chew and swallow. You knew how to do the rest. 

After the ice cream you were seated on the sofa next to him and he pulled out a portable game system to keep him entertained while he pressed play on the movie he’d put on the big tv on the wall. 

It was Bridget Jones's Diary. You had seen it enough times to know the entire movie by heart and still, still you laughed at every joke, swooned at every steamy look, and squealed like a piglet at every kiss scene. It literally did not get old. You could fall asleep and wake up watching this movie for the rest of your life and be as happy as ever. 

After he’d felt you’d been babied enough for him to trust you not to dissolve into a fit of disaster without him, he left you alone to finish your movie. He said something about a bug he was working on fixing and you could hear him working from behind his closed door in his room. 

He had been quiet as he worked. He usually was, save for the occasional song he sang along to, or work sounding phone call he took. 

The credits were rolling on your happy ending and you could feel the beginnings of the first few period cramps twinging inside of your abdomen. 

Everything made sense now, as it usually did whenever your period began. 

You’d just stood to head toward the kitchen for some pain medicine when Baekhyun’s bedroom door was abruptly pulled open.  

He bolted through the doorway and his phone was in his hands, his eyes were wide. Panic was written all over his face as he searched the room for you and finally made eye contact with you in the kitchen. 

You had a bottle of pain reliever in one hand and another popsicle in your other and you were trying to figure out the logistics of getting the bottle of medicine open without having to put the sticky melty treat down anywhere and things weren’t going so well. Things were getting drippy. 

Baekhyun arrived then and you beamed a wide and genuinely happy to see him smile. He would help you. He would open the pills. He would stuff you full of them to stop the pain. 

At this point you didn't even care how many. You’d take however many the Gods decided to shake free from their plastic prison. 

“Help,” he said, walking by the medicine you held out to him with his phone displayed in his hands. “Help me, she...our girlfriend, Maya, she—”

You gasped at his mispronunciation and you lifted your popsicle hand toward his face as you made the sounds with your mouth, “Mia. Like Mee-uh.”

“Mia, Maya, Moira, She is — she is talking to me.” His eyes were wide and they were crazed. 

“She’s saying things and she’s really fucking smart and clever and she’s saying things to me, Bug. She’s, oh god, -the fuck didn't you tell me she was cute. Fuck. You have to help me. She thinks I’m cute too. Oh God. What do I do? What’s next?”

He was breathless when he was done and both of your hands were still full. Your popsicle was beginning to drip down your wrist. You would have to clean it up before you got ants. You still had some medicine to take too. 

He was pacing. He thought she was cute too, it wasn’t just you who thought so. He said it himself. Although he reacted this way with nearly every girl you had seen him interact with. Hell, just last week he made you answer the door for the delivery chicken because the girl was cute and he wasn’t about to scribble his signature all over her hand by accident. 

“Baekhyun, I already laid the groundwork for you.” Maybe the day was finally catching up to you but you felt suddenly very tired and in no mood to play make-believe with him right now. 

“What does that mean?” His face betrayed his utter cluelessness and you sighed deeply, feeling much of the same melancholy mood return to you despite the chocolate and your favorite movie still fresh on your tongue. “What does that mean? I don't know what to do. You were going to help me.” 

He was right. You shouldn’t just abandon a friend in need like you’d abandoned the popsicle in the trash can just now. 

“You have a new episode of your show to watch. She also likes that show. Why don't you stream it together?” 

His eyes lit up and his smile was wide and beautiful. Then he was spinning on his heels without even so much as a glance back. He typed into his phone and had nearly reached the door of his bedroom without even acknowledging your help when at the last minute you caught the look he shot you. It was a bright smile. He was excited and his smile reached his eyes. 

“She said yes,” he said, “thanks, Bug.”

His door closed and you reached for the bottle of pills. Grabbing just two today, you downed them quickly and retreated to your room with a gloomy, lonely, little storm cloud floating stubbornly over your head. 

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff​​  @byunbabybaek​​  @beg0neth0t420

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Battle

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others fly to Cairo to confront Apocalypse and his soldiers in an attempt to rescue Xavier.

Warnings: Apocalypse being a leg breaking, hero strangling jerk. Characters fighting for their lives, but bookended with fluff from Peter x Reader pairing.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp, @wintwrsoldiwr, @tommy-braccoli, @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

———————————

You’d at least gotten to clean up somewhat. Earlier as Hank and the new woman you’d just met, Moira, had worked on readying the jet, you’d found some bit of helpful supplies. Clean rags to wipe off the blood, and bandages that’d you’d hurriedly applied to your shallow claw wounds.

All the remnants of your restraints were gone, and your old, torn clothes you’d just tossed in favor of the thin jumpsuit and lightly armored black flight suit over the top of it. You all wore these suits, commandeered with this experimental jet now rumbling beneath you as you shot off to Cairo together.

There was silence for a good while, after some initial nervous chatter and joking from the others. It would have been too easy to fill this quiet with any of the myriad of questions still rushing through your brain, but you really had just listened and little more when they’d filled you in earlier with the gist of what they’d learned.

All that really mattered was that the Professor was being held captive by a seemingly omnipotent mutant. One that had now declared war on all and recruited his own powerful soldiers. This was a rescue mission, with likely all your lives at stake.

You leaned your head back, wondering if anyone else would really even know or care what had happened to you if you never came back from this.

The escape from Stryker’s lab had been life threatening as well of course, but it was so different when it’d just been one thing after another. Events unfolding too quickly to really develop any sense of dread, it’d been all adrenaline and luck really.

But even in a jet like this, flying all the way to Egypt was more than just a skip and a jump. It was well enough time to dwell on your own inexperience and shortcomings, to wonder if this was the last time you’d ever do anything at all.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice was quiet, just to you, as you glanced over, having been mired only in your own thoughts until that moment.

He was sitting beside you, both of you strapped in these jump seats that ran along both sides of the jet. Vaguely you realized the others had started talking once more as well then. Maybe that was why he felt more comfortable speaking to you again now.

He hadn’t addressed you directly since you’d reunited with the others. Though you wouldn’t blame him if he was just as nervous as you were deep down. But from his self deprecating jokes in front of your friends earlier, about still living at home with his mother, he would at least seem better at hiding fear if he did have any.

“Hey,” You answered back reflexively, looking at him fully again.

“So uh....” He was chewing a piece of gum, as if some part of him still had to stay in motion in order to remain comfortable. “That car, that was pretty sweet. That yours or what?”

Honestly it took you a very long, awkward pause before you could piece together any idea of what he was referring to. But being that you’d only known him since literally just earlier today, there wasn’t anything else he could possibly mean. “The yellow convertible?” You questioned anyway, not really surprised by much of anything now.

“Yeah, I mean, I take the road if there is one. I saw you guys on the way to the house,” He answered, still offering a little explanation regardless. “Looked like you knew what you were doing though.” There was a more sheepish grin emerging. “I was going to stop and say hey I guess. But then I saw the, you know, fireball coming out the house and all, had to go see what that was about. Save everybody or whatever...” He trailed off after a bit, maybe realizing that you were just letting him ramble.

It reminded you of how you’d acted with him during the whole lab fiasco. He seemed the more confident one down there, while you got easily flustered. You really wondered if having your friends here now was making the difference. As if he was more unsure of himself when there was a potential audience to hear what you might say back to him.

It was interesting, getting to put more of those pieces together, or at least starting to be able to when it came to him. For putting on the display of an extrovert, and if you could finally admit it, even him being an outright flirt, you felt more and more sure that that was only skin deep really. That was just the outer layer he protected himself with.

“It was one of the Professor’s cars,” You smiled genuinely, probably the first one since they’d told you where you were going in this jet and why. “We were on our way back from the mall.”

That warmth from you seemed to ease him back into his normal tone, maybe a slight relief in him that you didn’t find it off putting that he’d already taken notice of you before you even knew he was anywhere around.

“Oh, mallrat, huh?” He quipped, “I can picture that.”

He was teasing, but you gave it right back. “There is no way you can tell me that you don’t end up in music stores wherever you live, like a lot.” You hadn’t forgotten his band t-shirt after all. You thought you’d seen him putting away headphones at some point too. “And that leather jacket and pants you had? Come on, that didn’t come from some bargain clothes rack.”

You might have had him for just a moment there. Just a flicker of surprise in his eyes to know you really had paid him that much attention, before he retorted, “Hey, what’s the point of a fast car if it has no style, right?”

“Says the guy who most people can’t even see until he slows down.” But you were purposeful to make clear in your tone that that wasn’t an insult at all, just continuing a little more bravely afterward, “Though their loss I guess.”

There was no mistake then, he really did pause. You could feel the slightest bit of heat in your face again, but you were not about to take that back. Not when you didn’t even know what was really awaiting you all at the end of this flight.

And you were still the next one to speak, that resolve remaining. “If we make it out of this, maybe you can come with me back over there to our mall. Help me pick out some new stuff.” You tried not to make it sound funny, but on some cosmic level it still was. “Seeing as how my room and everything I owned was incinerated and all.”

“Deal.” He said immediately. Only a little afterward seeming to realize that maybe he sounded a bit too eager. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I’m pretty good at Ms. Pac Man too. They have an arcade, right?”

“Yes.” You answered, trying not to look too amused, and going along with him to help him feel more comfortable. “I can’t say I’m actually any good, but they do have a Flash Gordon pinball machine I always play. And a couple of air hockey tables. That’s my go-to.” No question with his speed that he would likely annihilate you on both. But the idea of being in a much simpler, safer place like that with him some day was a pleasant one right now.

“Oh yeah. I can show you a thing or two.” He was clearly back in his element then, looking smug once more.

“I’m sure you will.” You could only wonder if the god complex mutant and his lackeys you were now off to go challenge would have any idea that in the back of your mind you’d now be dreaming of a simple date in an arcade as extra motivation to get back home in one piece.

———————————

It wasn’t long before things had started spiraling in quick succession again. You’d all arrived in Cairo to find it essentially destroyed, save for what this fake god had already erected in monument to himself. A huge pyramid in the style of the ancient Egyptians, one he’d taken Xavier hostage inside.

It hadn’t been clear though how much of the destruction was done by this mutant, and how much had actually been at Magneto’s hands as it was with more shock that you’d found him in the middle of this as well. Now serving this apocalyptic mutant.

You knew enough about Magneto to both fear and respect him. Even though his history with the Professor went back so many years, Erik Lehnsherr as he was actually named was always more on the side of peace through violence. While Xavier preached ideals of tolerance and education for regular humans to one day accept mutant kind, Magneto thought them incapable of such, and had no qualms on preemptive strikes against non mutants as well as eye for an eye type vengeance.

But even for Magneto this seemed surprising. He would really just give Xavier up this way? As you’d gotten closer, Jean had sensed that Apocalypse (what you were now calling the new enemy in your own mind) intended to take over the Professor’s body, possessing him permanently to gain access to his mind control powers and become basically omniscient. He’d be unstoppable with everyone as his puppets then. Free will would cease to exist.

“You guys help Nightcrawler get into the pyramid!” Raven called back to all of you as the jet was landing. “Get Charles and I’ll take care of Erik.”

You’d snapped back to attention at the orders, and you saw that Peter was suddenly at her side.

He looked so focused all at once, “I can get you in there,” He told her, referring to the debris field of broken buildings and all else now churning, stuck in a huge magnetic orb with Magneto at its center. When she didn’t look sure, he continued quickly. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

Raven nodded to Peter then in agreement, knowing there was no time for more back and forth. “The rest of you, get Charles on this plane and get him out of here!”

You too knew what was at stake, there was no reason to argue, even if there still must have been concern on your face. You didn’t understand Peter’s change and sudden fixation on Magneto.

But it was only Kurt that spoke up immediately, yelling back to Raven and Peter, “We’re not leaving without you!”

Peter looked back at that, “Don’t worry.” In fact, you realized he was looking directly to you for one moment. “We’ll catch up.”

———————————

While Peter had sped Raven out of sight to try and reason with Magneto, Moira had stayed with the jet and Hank had come with you, Scott, Jean, and Kurt.

But as you all ran along the rubble, trying to make your way to the pyramid, it hadn’t been but moments until you encountered Apocalypse’s other soldiers, mutants set on stopping you all from interfering by any means necessary.

A tall, blonde man with wings made out of metal, a ninja seeming woman with a pinkish purple energy she could wield from her hand like a blade even while also carrying a katana, and a girl nearer your own age with stark white hair and seemingly the most power out of the three as she’d flown right towards you throwing lightning bolts from her hands.

You’d had no choice but to split up. Which you were sure was what they’d wanted even as you’d chosen to try and take the white haired girl’s attention. You didn’t really want to find out what would happen if one of those bolts struck you directly, but you could guess you had the best chance of anyone to maybe absorb some of it in your energy form.

You’d immediately powered up, glowing white as she’d chased you around the sky, both of you darting and flying in some kind of bizarre dog fight.

Your heart had been racing though, no amount of training at the mansion could actually prepare you for dueling with someone who actually wished to harm you. Everything to this point had just been about learning to control your powers, maybe even firing an energy blast at a dummy or paper target or two. But you’d never tried to hurt anyone. Not on purpose.

“Why are you helping him!?” You yelled out to her, swerving again as she tried to get close enough to you to land a hit. You generated an orb of light energy from one hand, letting it destabilize before you threw it towards her. It collapsed into itself, exploding to make a shockwave through the air that pushed her back again.

“He’s going to make it so we never have to hide what we are again!” She growled back in frustration, steadying herself in the air before her eyes hazed over into solid white.

You doubted that could be good, and of course it wasn’t as she raised her arms, a tornado like blast of wind then trying to knock you from the sky. You were able to shield yourself somewhat with your force fields, but the barrage of debris and wreckage that came with the winds made it too difficult to keep track of her as she did nearly land a direct lightning strike then.

“You’re wrong!” You yelled back, even as you felt numb and disoriented briefly, like the electricity surge was messing with your own energy. “He’s just using all of you! He only wants slaves, nothing more! And you’re just going to hand us all to him!”

She didn’t answer back after that, but you knew it wasn’t as if you could change anyone’s mind for them. She’d have to live with her own choices, just as you’d have to live with yours.

After a good while of this tit for tat though, you were really trying to take her out of the sky at last, knowing you needed to find and help the others as this had already been going on for far too long. You started trying to get her in the chest with white energy beam after energy beam shooting from your hands. She was fast, but you were able to at least get her in one shoulder at last as she spun with the force, losing altitude quickly with the hit.

Even as she fell, you could see her already correcting course though, trying to take aim at you again as she glared upwards.

But you didn’t get to see what happened next. A three fingered hand grasped your left arm suddenly from thin air, and then you were collapsing onto the floor of the jet you’d come here in.

“Gotcha, time to go!” Kurt spoke quickly as you looked to him in surprise, that strange burning smell hanging in the air briefly that always accompanied his teleporting. It was as instant a feeling as moving with Peter, but thankfully without the subsequent vertigo as you stood quickly, powering down, even as you were already looking around for the speedster.

With relief you did see Jean cradling the Professor’s head as they sat on the floor, Xavier unconscious but still breathing. But you did not see Peter or Raven.

Moira and Hank were already firing up the jet engines and you grabbed hold to the wall as you felt the craft quickly rising. “What about Peter and Raven?” You called out over the noise of the turbines spooling up faster and faster.

“We’ll have to trust them to figure it out, we’ve got to get Charles out of here now!” Hank answered back, leaving no room for debate.

You felt an unease building in your stomach, but it was true that if Apocalypse got Xavier, that Peter, Raven, or anyone else would then no longer matter anyway. At least for now you could hope Peter would just take Raven and run somewhere far from here. Xavier and Jean could use their psychic abilities to find them later and you could reunite.

But a hard thud above you left you all looking upward as the jet rattled.

“What the hell was that!?” Moira called out.

As soon as you saw that pinkish energy blade emerging through the jet’s hull, you had already powered up again, glowing and ready to shield the others as best you could. Apocalypse’s soldiers were proving too difficult to shake.

Yet Jean had other plans, “Everyone, grab onto Kurt!” She yelled.

You didn’t know what altitude you were already at, but you knew it wasn’t a survivable one for the jet itself if it was ditched now. Yet a fight in this close of quarters with all your powers would likely end in the same result. So her choice wasn’t as irrational as it first seemed.

You reached one hand quickly back, firmly grabbing onto Kurt’s shoulder, even as you kept your other hand raised towards where the metal winged mutant and the blade wielding woman were now trying to force their way in through the breach they’d created in the hull.

“I’ve never done it with this many people!” Kurt warned as you all held to him.

“Get us out of here!” Jean commanded, her desperation bringing out a forcefulness you hadn’t yet seen from her.

But Kurt was still straining, the sound of his opening whatever portal he used clearly heard but not bringing you anywhere as he tried several times.

The man with the metal wings jumped down into the cockpit, now just feet away as you realized what you had to do.

“Go without me!” You screamed over the rush of wind now coming through the hull breach. You let go of Kurt, making direct eye contact with Jean.

You could get out on your own. At least you were going to try. It was the only way. Kurt wasn’t able to take you all.

You felt that Jean was listening, that she heard your thoughts and that as difficult as it was, she agreed just as quickly. It was the only way.

“Do it!” She urged Kurt even through the horrified look he gave you both.

“I’m taking it down.” You also heard her voice say in your head almost simultaneously. That briefest warning to ready yourself before she willed the controls to throw the plane into a nosedive and cause Apocalypse’s soldiers to lose their footing.

The last you saw of your other friends was still their shocked and frightened expressions as they disappeared from right in front of you. But this was your only chance as well, propelling yourself as fast you could, right through the fading cloud of gas they left behind and past the now tumbling winged mutant as all your focus went to that small square of sunlight that they’d cut into the hull.

It was your one window of survival. For just the briefest moment, you felt him try to grab hold of your leg as you flew past him. But you kicked him with the other leg as hard as you could manage, breaking free into the open air as the jet plummeted on without you.

Out the corner of your eye you saw the woman had remained on the outside of the jet, but jumped free from it as well. You lost sight of her as you both fell, focusing only on trying to slow your descent to a survivable speed. It was one thing to levitate yourself up from a neutral position, and wholly another to try and control your energy field around yourself enough to reverse the terminal velocity transferred to you from being within a crashing plane.

The ground still came too fast, too hard. You blacked out on impact, laying alone in the dirt as your light energy faded, receding back inside you.

————————————

An unknown time later, something jolted you awake. You could hear screaming as you opened your eyes. You were laying on your side. Everything hurt and you could taste blood in your mouth.

But you were already forcing yourself back up as you swallowed. Disoriented as you were, you still recognized that voice. It was Peter. He was hurt.

You were looking all around you, and it didn’t take long to see the source and reason for the screams.

Not far from you at all, Apocalypse stood in a clearing from all the rubble. Peter right beside him, half crumpled to the ground. One of Peter’s feet was encased in the earth, trapping him there like an animal in a snare. His other leg was clearly broken, twisted at a grossly unnatural angle.

You felt a foreign rage beginning to burn up inside you, but before you could even physically react you saw the woman with the katana again. Nowhere in your mind did you take any time to consider how she would look so clean and uninjured having just come from the same circumstances as you of barely escaping the crashing jet.

All you saw was her walking towards her master, sword at the ready to finish Peter.

“Stop, (Y/N)!”

Charles screaming inside your head was the only thing that kept you from revealing yourself at that moment.

“It’s Raven! I’m telling you, it’s Raven!” Even Charles was struggling to break through your flaring emotions, as he repeated himself desperately. “He’ll kill you, (Y/N)! Stay in place, I beg you!”

The Professor had never spoken to you in such a way before. You gripped onto the broken wall in front of you, still only just obscured from their view as you saw Apocalypse grab Peter by the hair, jerking the young man’s head back roughly to expose his throat to the woman.

“It’s Raven, please trust her!” Charles did not let go. You could feel him actually starting to control you even, something he had absolutely never done before, though your emotions were exploding like they also never had. He didn’t want you to make a life ending mistake.

“(Y/N), please.” He called again and you realized you were being held in place, unable to move out any further. You were forced to only watch as the woman raised her blade, Peter wincing in fear and pain beneath her as she swung it.

But it was only Apocalypse’s throat that ripped open. Yet even in your surprise, any sense of victory was still non existent. No blood poured from the wound, and it healed completely within moments as he only grabbed his supposed traitor by the neck, holding her up immediately.

Raven’s feet hung in the air while she choked, her blue skin and true appearance quickly returning as she could no longer control her disguise as Apocalypse strangled her.

And it was only then that you felt Xavier letting go of you, in his own shock as Apocalypse tried to bait him out.

“Charles! Come! Rescue your weaklings!” Apocalypse challenged aloud, still dangling the now helpless Raven while Peter stayed trapped at their feet. “Give your life for theirs!”

He was going to kill her right in front of you. You powered up, knowing there was no other choice. You had to-

“No. I’m still connected to him. Let me get in his head, (Y/N), then you can go to them.” The professor spoke quickly, yet with a touch of new resolve.

“Charles! Will you do nothing?” The false god continued to bellow.

This time you listened without being forced to. You did see Apocalypse pause as if Xavier was indeed making contact. It was still an agonizing wait, but when he finally let go of Raven, you allowed yourself some shred of hope. You’d never seen anyone be able to overpower the Professor mentally, once he was fully in.

But that hope was also short lived as just moments later Apocalypse raised his hand abruptly. At will he dissolved the outer wall of a nearby building. You could see Scott and Hank then exposed, themselves just as surprised and staring out. But you knew it could only mean that Apocalypse had used Xavier’s connection against him just that quickly to root out his hiding place.

This could be the end then. You resigned yourself that the only choice was to die fighting if that is what it had to be. But you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As Apocalypse had left Peter and Raven behind, now striding confidently to his prize, two massive steel beams suddenly shot into his path. They buried themselves into the ground, crossing into an X to block him.

You looked back into the sky, glad in this single moment that you had been right about at least one thing. Magneto wouldn’t give Xavier up in the end. Not without bloodshed anyway.

“You betray me?” Apocalypse asked, already turning to deal with Erik instead.

“No. I betrayed them.” Magneto unleashed hell then, every bit of metal he could pull shooting towards Apocalypse in an unending assault as the other raised a shield that incinerated each and every piece as it hit. But doing so clearly taxed him, allowing the perfect moment for the rest of you to join the battlefield.

You got to Peter almost simultaneously as Hank got to Raven. You and Beast were clearly in the same mindset of getting the injured out of the immediate firefight before you would join in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, the Professor froze me,” You spoke in quick apology to Peter, using a small energy blast to break up the earth that had been hardened around his trapped foot. Once cracked, you broke the rest of it free just with your fingers.

He was obviously surprised, grateful, and maybe even confused all at once as you gently lifted him with the help of your powers. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders, trying to mind his broken leg as you helped support him while gliding over to a safer spot some distance away.

“Stay here.” You spoke, sitting him down so his back was against a mostly still standing wall to shelter them.

Hank was sitting Raven down in the same manner beside him as Peter suddenly spoke up to you. “Wait.”

You were still crouched in front of him, you’d been about to stand back up when his hand went around the back of your neck and pulled you in closer.

Before you could register anything else, you felt his lips press against yours. It was a bit harsh, desperate even, and then it was over just as fast as you pulled back in surprise.

“In case we don’t ever get to make it to that arcade,” he responded to your shocked expression that was still evident even in your energy form like this.

You took a breath, now was not the time for verbalizing any of this. But you wanted to show you agreed with the sentiment. You leaned back in, kissing him yourself for one longer moment, one hand gently cupping the side of his face before you stood back up. He allowed the contact readily and you could only wonder what it felt like to him when you were enveloped in light like this.

Hank and Raven just gave you both the most confused of looks, but nothing was said as you and Beast had then rushed back off to throw yourselves into the fight.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Recognition {Indiana Jones x Plus Size History Professor Reader}

Request: You know it's love when he buys every book you've ever written and places them pride of place in his office.

Requested by @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Part of my Plus Size History Professor x Indiana Jones series and part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

You knew that Indy loved you, of course you did. The two of you had been together for well over a year and by now, you had both discussed that this was kind of it for the two of you; this relationship would be the last one that either of you would be in. Life with Indiana Jones was a wild ride. It was oh so good but also oh so dangerous. You worried about him a lot, worried when he went off on his digs that he wouldn’t come back to you but he always promised that he would and so far, he kept that promise. He showed and told you all the time that he loved you. He constantly praised you, telling you how much he loved you, your curves, your smile, your eyes, the way you taught a class; he constantly praised you for doing a good job and treated you like a Queen. Once upon a time, you never thought men like Indy existed and then you met him and you had to pinch yourself a few times to make sure that it wasn’t a dream. Everything about him was perfect. You didn’t like to hold humans up to a status of perfect and you tried not to because that’s how you would end up disappointed but he was genuinely perfect. Everything he did, he did it for you.

You and Indy weren’t living together but you were round at his more often than not so you usually helped him clean and tidy especially if he was busy in his office. You hadn’t been in his office much, you never wanted to disturb the precious work he did in there or disturb any of the artefacts he had accumulated over the years of his digs.

Today, though, you had ventured in to collect the half empty coffee mugs that had been sitting for a few days. That was probably his worst habit; leaving half drunk black coffee everywhere. Now, if that was his worst habit, you didn’t mind at all, you’d seen and heard of hundreds of men with much worse habits than that.

As you picked the mugs up, something caught your eye. On a shelf to the left of his desk, you saw something familiar. You set the cups down and ventured over. He had a small selection of books in his office, usually his own books sat in this very spot but you realised that they’d been swapped over for another set... Another set which you wrote. Smiling as you picked up each book, you noticed that the spine was well used meaning that he’d read each one multiple times. Your heart soared as you palmed the books. You scanned the shelves to try and find his but you couldn’t see them. 

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, “Find anything good?”

You turned to see him, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and glasses perched half way down his nose. You said it before and you’d say it again, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen; so effortlessly beautiful, “You have my books.”

He furrowed his brow, “Of course I have your books, you gave them to me, remember?”

“But they’re on your shelf... in the exact spot where your own books sat.”

Indy nodded, taking his glasses off and tucking them in the pocket of his shirt, “That small collection of books I’ve got there are all of my favourite History or Research books.” 

You rolled your eyes at his sweetness, “You’re just saying that because I’m your girlfriend.”

He shook his head, reaching out and plucking a couple of your books from the shelf, “Oh, I’m not, sweetheart. See?” He flicked through the pages of your books and you saw lots of notes written in messy cursive down the sides of the pages, you saw post-it notes sticking out from them or highlighted quotes all scattered throughout, “I’ve read your books over and over again and each time I read them, I learn something new. I highlight over quotes that I want to bring into my lectures or so I can quote you in research papers or just to remember the quotes. My notes scribbled on the sides are thoughts or additions to what you’ve said. The post-it notes are the pages on which I’ve learned something new.” 

You stared at the books in his hands, each of your books looked this way, pencil scribbled on the pages, highlighted quotes and yellow post-it notes sticking out from the sides, “Indy...” You knew that he was a fan of your research, you knew that he had read the books before but you never knew to the extent of his love for them.

He continued, “My books were good but when I read yours, I was blown out of the water by the care and the precision that went into each of them. I’m so proud of you. So of course they’ll be on my shelf; they’re some of the most informative books I’ve ever read and I’m so proud of you for them.”

It touched you more than you could ever tell him. The fact that he supported you this much and had gone out of his way to use your work in lectures or as sources for his own research papers; it truly meant something to you. You weren’t used to that support, for years you’d had to pave your way through teaching and getting people to listen to you; for years you struggled with men or family laughing when you told them what you were working on and yet, Indiana Jones stood in front of you praising your books, reciting quotes to you that he particularly loved or interesting things he learned about from your work.

The man was the kindest, most caring person you had ever met before. He constantly surprised you in the best way possible. You knew he loved you but when he told you this, it made you feel like the most valued person on the planet. It was such a simple thing as well, reading and adding thoughts to your books but it was something that no one had done before. You’d spent months on these books, spending so much time and effort perfecting them and tweaking them and he knew that; he knew how much time went into them and he gave you that back. Indiana was the end of relationships for you, you could never be with someone else because they would always fall short of him; no one would ever be able to match this man’s kindness. It was such a simple bit of recognition but it meant more to you than you could ever tell him.

Unable to conjure up the right words to express your gratitude and awe, you practically threw yourself into his arms for a hug. Indy, nearly toppling over due to being caught off guard, was quick to steady himself and hug you back just as tight - he was used to your surprise attack hugs, “You okay, sweetheart? I didn’t upset you, did I?”

“No,” you smiled against his shoulder, “everything’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

[ijustwant2write]

Model Wife-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @nofckingfighting​)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HAVE ALSO CREATED A PROMPT LIST HERE IF YOU WANT TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM THAT)

Masterlist

Requested by @justsimplyme93​: ‘Hey! How are you? I read the last tommy shelby one you did and i love it. Could you do another arranged marriage with tommy where he still go’s to lizzie and the reader asks to speak with him.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, sex, swearing, arguing slight violence

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sipping on my tea, I looked around at our guests in the house, all members of the ‘Grace Shelby Institute’. We had to keep up appearances, and although both Tommy and I hated socialising with people who used to turn their noses up at people like us, they were the ones providing the money. Normally, we would keep most events out of the house, but Tommy had pissed me off, and seeing as he was too busy to help organise it, I made all the arrangements; being petty was sometimes the only way I could get back at him.

“Mrs Shelby, what a lovely home you have! And the decor for today is just lovely.” an older, highly posh woman gushed to me.

I smiled.“Thank you. I am quite proud of myself.”

“I have not had the chance to speak with your husband yet. It seems he keeps vanishing into thin air.”

“Yes, he does have a habit of doing that.”

Knowing that there was no point in trying to track down Tommy, I suffered through an awfully dull conversation with the lady, having to disguise my boredom with polite smiles as more women joined us. They were all much older, I had seen a few young women here, all married to very rich men who were twice their own age; I suppose I couldn’t judge, it wasn’t like Tommy and I were actually in love.

“You know Mrs Shelby, I have always wondered how you met a man like Thomas Shelby.” one of the women said.

She was bold to say something like that, especially to me. I refrained from sighing as I started to recite the story Tommy and I made up.

“Well, it seems very cliche, I must say. We met when he was meeting with my father, obviously wanting to unite our businesses. I ended up being in the right place at the right time, we easily fell into a conversation with each other which was unfortunately interrupted by my father. Thomas was very confident to take me out to dinner, right in front of my father may I add! Surprisingly he was a charmer, and I guess we just fell in love along the way.”

The ladies all cooed, some covering their heart with their hand as if it were the most romantic thing they had ever heard. It was all bullshit. We had to make it as vague as possible, make sure that they had nothing more to gossip about. Both Tommy and I had been married before, they were our real loves; and both had been murdered by a rival, but who received more sympathy after they died? And who was called vicious, degrading names when she re-married to a wealthier, more powerful man? People of ‘society’ were disgusting.

“Finn,” I called out as I approached him, luckily escaping the women,“have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” he smirked.

I smiled back, ruffling up his hair to annoy him.“The one I’m married to.”

He quickly smoothed it back down.“Not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alright, just keep an eye out for him, yeah?”

Although it wasn’t uncommon for Tommy to disappear (especially to avoid these groups of snobs), he had been gone for a while. He may have been frustrated by my choice of venue, but he would still inform me if he had to leave for business. This made me all the more suspicious.

Leaving the main room, I hastily walked down the halls, leaving the noise behind me. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, wishing that I didn't have an idea of where he could be...and who with. Brushing past staff carrying food and beverages, I made my way upstairs, checking our bedroom first. He was the lowest of low if he was up here; luckily, they hadn’t used this room. Checking through our bedrooms, it was only two doors down from our own when I heard heavy breathing. Taking a deep breath, I gripped onto the handle, bursting in and confirming my suspicions. 

“If you’re almost finished, we have guests waiting for you downstairs.” I stated, averting my gaze away from the scene before me.

Lizzie had been bent over the bed, with her dress pulled up over her hips (how classy), and my husband right behind her. She bolted upright, shimmying her dress back down and pulling her underwear up; even after being caught in the act, she looked smug, head held high as she walked past me. Looking back at Tommy, he had an annoyed expression as he did up his trousers. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he called me back before I had a chance to leave.

“We need to speak about this.” he said.

“We do. But not now, not whilst I am hosting this event for the organisation you created for your dead wife.” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me.

Luckily I had put a time limit on the event, and this time there was a genuine smile on my face as they all left. That was before I remembered what I had witnessed earlier. It was going to go down much messier than I first anticipated, especially since the tension between us had been building up after I caught them in the act. My footsteps were heavy on the way to Tommy’s office, not even bothering the knock before entering. In his usual spot at his desk, whiskey already poured, there was no reaction from him when he saw the fury in my eyes.

“Glad you’re settled for the evening.” I spat, hands on my hips as I stood opposite him.

“This is about earlier?” he coughed.

“What else would we talk about?”

“I’m guessing it has upset you.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He didn’t reply, instead lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, I understand that there is that bullshit saying ‘all men have urges that need to be fulfilled’, but it doesn’t mean you can disrespect me in my own home.”

“Your home?”

“Yes, my home. I’m here a lot more than you are anyway. And of all the times to be fucking her, you chose the annual Grace Shelby Institute meet up?”

“Don’t say her name.” he mumbled.

I scoffed.“It’s the only way I can get your attention nowadays.” 

Tommy raised from his chair, still smoking.“Attention? Since when have you ever wanted my attention?”

“We both knew that this marriage wasn’t based off of love, nor were we ever going to fall in love along the way. However, I have been nothing but a model wife to you. I keep up appearances on your behalf, I make up excuses for your disappearances, I also ensure that your reputation isn’t tarnished by people speaking about you behind your back! And if that doesn’t deserve some fucking respect then I don’t know what does! Also, don’t you think I miss the touch of a man? How many times have I come across men that have shamelessly flirted with me whilst you’re not around, and how easy would it have been to sneak away for just a moment to gain some satisfaction?!”

I could feel my face burning up as I ranted, hating that I wasn’t gaining any sort of reaction from him. Was he this blank with Grace? Was he this blank with Lizzie?

“So you’re asking me to stop seeing Lizzie?” 

“I’m not asking you that, because even if I did, you would keep doing it anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I just want respect. I don’t deserve to be humiliated like this.”

“No one knows.”

“Your family does! And even if they didn’t, that means I don’t deserve respect?”

He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it nevertheless.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Really Tommy? I want some common fucking decency.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I groaned, leaving before I said something I truly regretted. He was acting as if he didn’t give a shit (which he probably didn’t), which only angered me more. Who would want to be stuck in such a place? Letting out an angry scream, I picked up an expensive vase, raising it high above my head before throwing it on the floor with all my might. The pieces glided out across the hardwood floor, some spraying onto my shoes. A few servants rushed in, obviously alarmed by the noise. Instead of apologising, I marched past them, heading up the long stairs and to the bedroom; I would have preferred to grab the leftover bottles of champagne as a nightcap, but exhaustion from my anger would have to do.

Tommy still slept beside me that week, he still ate breakfast with me, sometimes dinner if he wasn't busy. He also tried to have normal, short conversations with me, though even when we glanced at each other, the tension was thick between us. It pissed me off that he was acting normal, and I knew that's why he was doing it...making me even more mad.

"I have a potential business partner coming here today." He informed me over breakfast.

"Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"I couldn't have a meeting elsewhere."

"I thought you said you don't like bringing business home...though come to think of it, you don't really do that either."

"Glad that's settled then."

I assumed that Tommy would want me out of the way when this 'partner' arrived. A good place to go was out to the stables, tend to the horses to take up time. However, I wasn't in the mood for riding or mucking out, instead opting to watch them be trained for racing. Leaning against a fence, I wasn't surprised that my mind was elsewhere, wondering why Tommy was still being so nice to me. We very rarely argued, mostly because neither of us wanted to face the problems at hand, especially when there were more pressing matters to deal with. But after yelling at him like I had, I expected some sort of silent treatment, or even for him to avoid me completely.

"Mrs Shelby?" a butler said from behind me. He continued as I turned around."Mr Shelby's meeting was to commence at twelve, but he is not here at present. However, his business partner has arrived. And..."

"And?"

"And Mr Shelby has asked that you keep him company whilst he is gone. He has assured me he shall be no longer than half an hour."

It was highly unusual for me to meet any of Tommy's associates. This meant that the man couldn't be any sort of threat, he wouldn't expose me like this. Following the butler back inside, I followed him to the parlour, preparing to act as a good host and a good wife.

"I'm sorry that my husband has kept you waiting, he's never been great with time keeping." I said as I walked in, the man having his back towards me.

As he turned around, my eyes widened, as did his.

"Christopher?!" I exclaimed.

"(Y/N)?!" He smiled, rushing towards me.

"Is that really you? What are you doing engaging in business with the Shelby's?"

"My firm is expanding, for some reason Thomas Shelby stepped forward and offered to become partners. I haven't heard about you for years!"

"Neither I about you. Ever since you moved away, we lost contact."

"And now you're the new Mrs Shelby. Bit risky isn't it?"

I laughed."Come sit down, u want to hear everything you have been doing since we last saw each other."

Christopher was a very old friend of mine. We had known each other since we were eighteen, becoming friends after our families were connected through business. We had been young people wanting to rebel, wanting to have fun; we were never in a relationship together, though we would sleep with each other, spend long nights out drinking with our friends. As a lot of my friends went off to get married to higher business men, he was still there, until I selfishly left him behind to marry my husband, the man I truly loved. I had loved Christopher, not so much as someone I wanted to spend my life with, though neither just a friend; it sounded more complicated that it was.

"You know, I always felt slightly bad for marrying and leaving you like that." I admitted.

"Only slightly?" he nudged me.

"It's not my fault I fell in love! We both said that we would never marry each other, it wasn't right."

"No, you are correct. Though, that didn't stop us doing things that couples do."

I giggled."And we did that a lot."

"I'm sure Mr Shelby keeps you busy."

"He would...if he was ever here. Though even if he was..."

"(Y/N)?"

"I've said too much already."

"Have the two of you ever...or haven't rather-"

"No we haven't. And I am telling you this in full secrecy, it must never leave your lips." I pointed a finger at him, becoming serious.

"I promise. I would never do anything to expose you like that."

"Thank you Christopher." I laid my hand on his thigh, thinking nothing of it until he placed his over mine.

Slipping away my hand, I looked away from him, feeling how intense our eye contact was becoming. It was stupid that my heart was beating faster, I was becoming hot under the collar over the tiniest amount of contact.

"I'm assuming your wife knows who you are making a deal with?" I said to start the conversation again.

"There is no Mrs in my life at the moment. I'm afraid work came first and well...there has never been much time."

"Oh Christopher, that's no excuse! Let me guess, you've lost your charm?"

"It's been working on you, hasn't it?"

He got me again. Glancing around, I saw no servants, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were eavesdropping. However, it was Tommy and I that employed them, if they wanted to lose their job, that would he the way to do it. Standing up, I gestured for Christopher to follow.

"We're going on a walk." I announced.

"What about your husband?"

"He will be ages before he gets here. And I'm allowed to show my old friend around the place."

We headed out of the front door, and without saying anything, I guided him down the path that led away from the house.

"(Y/N), I thought you were showing me around your home?" Christopher pointed out.

"I am. We're just starting at the beginning."

"What is that...hut?"

It was a small stone shed, one that would have been used to either keep guns or tools used to maintain the land, keep it tidy. Tommy had another one built closer, initially wanting to knock it down but soon forgetting about it. Now it was empty, the only things remaining being a desk and a chair. It was in front of the trees, slightly hidden by them. You would have to have a sharp eye to spot it, whether you were walking or driving by. Using my shoulder to budge it open, I stepped inside, closing the door after Christopher walked in.

"(Y/N), I'm not stupid, I know why we've come here." He said, staying close by me.

I hesitated to speak, knowing that I hadn't thought this through properly."Christopher... I wouldn't be doing this if-"

"Your husband is Thomas Shelby, this is dangerous for both of us."

"It isn't. He's allowed to go off and do what he wants, because he's Thomas fucking Shelby, and he's a man. Even if he found out about any of this, he wouldn't hurt someone if I asked him not to. He's good to me in that manner."

His hands came up to either side of my face."I'm worried about you, I've never seen you so..."

"Desperate?" I clung onto his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I couldn't believe it was you when you walked in. You're still as beautiful as you were when we were eighteen."

Although he was being a sweetheart and I hadn't received such compliments in a long time, I was inpatient. We both knew where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be as romantic or adventurous as it used to be.

Hungrily kissing me, his arms wrapped around my torso, reaching down to my arse as I pulled off his coat. Pulling away for a moment, he pushed me towards the desk, helping me scramble on top of it. My legs instantly spread as I ruffled up the bottom of my dress, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and kiss him again. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, gasping as he pulled my underwear aside. The sensation filling my body had been badly missed, and I felt myself writhing against his fingers. Leaning back against the wall, I moaned loudly, heavily breathing as I grinded my hips. He slowed down his movements, knowing how much it was frustrating me.

"Christopher..." I struggled to say."Fuck, please...don't stop."

He leaned in to my neck, sloppily missing it as he spoke in between."I loved teasing you like this."

I groaned as he removed his fingers, instantly reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. Before I could take a turn to torture him back, he pulled me off the desk, quickly turning me around and bending me over it. I yelped out in surprise, smiling at the thrill of it all. He tapped my legs apart, moving my skirts out of the way. I felt his skin on mine before he thrusted into me, making me cry out in pleasure. It didn't even matter if anyone could hear us, I hadn't fucked for God knows how long.

He was slow at first, building up the feeling that was in the pit of my stomach. I moaned out his name, reaching back to grab any piece of hm. He had a tight grip on my hips, especially as he started to quicken his pace. The noises escaping his mouth were somehow exciting me, I needed to feel and hear all of this. The pinching of skin from his hold didn't bother me, both of us shouting out each others names along with profanities before he came, but he kept going until I did too. With both of us finished and out of breath, Christopher gently collapsed over me.

"Fuck." I sighed as he pulled out.

Shakily straightening up, I made sure I was dressed correctly, kissing him gently one last time. My body couldn't believe what it had just gone through, and it already wanted more. Before we could say or do anything else, we heard the distant sound of a car, and it could only be headed this way.

"Shit." Christopher stressed, hastily getting dressed.

"It's OK! It'll be OK, Christopher!" I tried to calm him down.

"He's back already!"

"We'll head back and act like nothing happened. I was just walking around with you."

Making sure we both looked normal, we nervously made our way back to the house. My legs were still shaking as he speedily walked, but I said nothing, seeing the stress and fear plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr Alexander, I see you have met my wife." Tommy was stood in the foyer, unnaturally smiling.

"We actually know each other. We grew up together." I explained, standing beside him.

Then it clicked.

"If you don't mind, I just need a quick word with my wife."

Christopher nodded, politely smiling at both of us before following the butler to Tommy's office. He turned to face me, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You invited him on purpose." I said.

"You might want to go lie down for a bit." He didn't say it maliciously, but I was still wary.

"Tommy, please don't hurt him. I initiated it, please don't-"

"I'm not going to do anything to him. He's done what I thought he would do."

"I'm confused. Why would you want him to sleep with me?"

"You said so yourself, why should it just be me doing what I want? You're Mrs fucking Shelby, you've got the power." He started to walk away, leaving me to still think about what he had done.

Still shaky but reeling from the events that unfolded, I ended up smiling."That scheming mother fucker."

[xenia-cenia]

Kaeya x Fem!Reader - To Heal

A/N-part 4... god razor and albedos are gonna kill me i FEEL it also wtf his backstory is so SAD.... enemies to lovers.... but only one sees them as an enemy..... god the brainrot is so good today 

Trigger/Content Warnings: Spoilers for Kaeyas backstory, minor character death, light swearing, PTSD/nightmares, blood, kidnapping

I promise it’s only half as angsty as it sounds

Word Count: 2,267

Request: No

Summary: You hated him. He loved you. It’s every romcom but this time, there’s trauma.

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

Kaeya Alberich had the world beneath his fingertips. 

Very few people could resist his charms, good looks, or smile. Especially not healers who hung towards the back of the party and saved every life he put in danger. 

Kaeya Alberich was a genius. People would willingly divulge secrets that would ruin their lives to his kind gaze and warm smile. He was manipulative, he was a liar, he was a traitor.

No person in Mondstadt hated Kaeya Alberich more than Kaeya Alberich himself. Though, you were a close second.

“Captain!” You barged into his office as he tied his hair up into a ponytail, “You can’t keep endangering people like this!”

He turned to you with a confused smile, “Like what? They’re Knights, aren’t they?”

“It doesn’t matter! Eventually, my healing won’t be enough!” You marched over to him and slammed your hands down on his desk, “You are selfish! You disgust me.” He shot you a big smirk which caused you to spin on your heels and leave the room, your anger nearly tangible.

Kaeya leaned back in his chair and sighed, a goofy smile lingering on his face.

No person in Mondstadt loved you more than the soldiers who you saved. 

Though, Kaeya Alberich was a close second. 

He didn’t know why he loved you so much. By all accounts, he should hate you. He should despise the way you brought comfort into everyone's eyes, the way you always arrived just in time to save countless lives, how your power in battle nearly outmatched his own. 

He should be jealous. He should be angry. He should not be head-over-heels in love with you. He should not be trying to plan more carefully so your healing workload is lightened, and it shouldn’t even cross his mind to leave his door open so you don’t hurt your hands as you barged in here with your justified rage.

Kaeya melted into his chair as he tried to contain the thoughts that ceaselessly ran through his mind. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, sweat dripping off his face as he saved your life. And you’d smile at him, a shy and genuine smile, as you thanked him profusely. 

But he was no fool. He knew how deep your hatred ran. And he couldn’t blame you, by all accounts he was selfish. He was disgusting. He risked lives for his enjoyment, he loved seeing the fear in recruits as they ran from danger.

Did that make him a bad person? Yes. Yes, absolutely. He slept every night trying to forget their screams as they called for help. No. Not called for help - begged him for help. 

You seethed as you walked out of Kaeyas office. Too many lives were senselessly taken every day, too many people's blood-stained your hands. 

Just like... no.

“Stop it, (Y/N). You can’t think like that.” You shook the thoughts out of your head as you mumbled to yourself. You looked to your side and caught sight of your reflection in a window. You stared for a moment, a blank expression on your face before it fell into a glare. 

Kaeya Alberich brought anger into your heart. Kaeya Alberich made memories you’d rather die creep up to the surface and hit you with guilt. You hated Kaeya Alberich because he was...

“Dammit.” You slapped your cheek, “Cut it out.”

You walked back to your home and thought over what you’d do for the rest of the evening. Maybe a warm bath and tea? However, you did like the idea of belting songs from the privacy of your home... the possibilities were near endless! But, as usual, you would wash your hands first.

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t touched anything. It didn’t matter if they were already clean. You would wash them every time you had the chance. 

When you finally arrived home, scrubbed your hands, you decided to put the relaxing bath off for a different night. You collapsed onto your warm bed, happily covering yourself in your heavy sheets as sleep overtook you.

If you had any regrets in your life, learning how to fight would be your top one. As the only fighter in your small town, you were relied on for everything. (Y/N) go hunting, (Y/N) take out these slimes, (Y/N) head to Mondstadt, and purchase goods.

And you were there. You were there when the small army attacked. Why were they attacking? You weren’t sure. 

Families, friends, enemies. They all blurred together as you raised your weapon. In the end, you were the only one left. You weren’t out of breath nor saddened by the deaths.

Instead, you looked around the corpses that littered the ground and tried to hide your exhilaration. 

For the first time, you had to fight like your life depended on it. For the first time in your life, you could let your frustration out. And there, covered in blood, was a small icy ball. You leaned over and picked it up, wiping the blood off with your hands. A Vision.

And for the first night in years, you found you couldn’t sleep. Every time your eyes would shut, you would see their bodies. Every time you plugged your ears you could hear them call your name. Every time you breathed you’d remember that they never would again.

You spent years atoning for that day and dedicated yourself to saving lives. You mastered healing, it took the same precision as killing you quickly realized, and went to Mondstadt hoping that the City of Freedom could free you from these deeds.

It couldn’t.

Nothing could. 

Eventually, you found yourself working for the Knights of Favonius. As long as you didn’t swing a weapon, you were fine. You were just saving lives. You were keeping your promise.

So, why did it feel so good when their lives all depended on your choice? Why did you feel so powerful knowing you were essentially the God of these men? 

Did you only join the Knights because you knew violence and bloodshed would always be a part of you? 

You did everything you can to suppress these feelings. You swore off fighting, ignoring people's begging to duel you one-on-one. You’d lie and say holding weapons scared you, but it was always Kaeya who saw through your facade.

And that’s why you hated him. He was as bloodthirsty, evil, and selfish as you. He saw through each lie you spent years carefully crafting.

You hated him because he was you. 

One week later, it was time for another raid. 

As long as you were on the field, none of your allies would die. The raid started fine enough, you all charged into a Domain under Kaeyas orders. He froze falling rocks or spare enemies that could have killed his troops, as you stayed in the back and healed every scraped knee and minor wound.

Stay in the back. They had said. It’s safer in the back. Kaeya is smart. He’ll never lead us into a trap.

And you hated him. You truly hated him. But, damn, you trusted his plans. Even if it meant you had to work harder to keep everyone alive, you knew that the job would get done. Together, you were unstoppable. 

Maybe you put too much confidence in him. You couldn’t muster a thought as a bubble of water enveloped you. You tried to break it, but all you did was force your oxygen to run out sooner. 

With one last hint of desperation, you threw your vision onto the floor. And then, you fell unconscious.

Kaeya was no idiot. He saw the number of his troops dwindling and knew what happened. He ordered the stragglers to retreat, take the wounded and try their best to not die without him holding their hands.

When they were out of his sight, he immediately started to retrace his steps. 

He didn’t need to come very far to notice the Vision that was kicked around and sitting on the floor. Kaeya walked over to it and picked it up, rubbing his finger over the outside. 

“Cyro Vision...” He tossed it into the air, grabbed it, and continued walking. Once again, he noticed a trail of water that was slowly beginning to dry.

After not even 5 minutes of walking, he saw what he needed. A slightly askew rock. Kaeya chuckled to himself as he pressed his on it, the rocks pushed themselves aside and revealed a staircase heading down.

“Well, here goes.” He muttered under his breath as he went down the staircase.

The Abyss Mages had taken you out of the bubble and tied you to a table. You were waking up, groggy and confused, but when you remembered felt anger bubble in your stomach.

“What the hell!” You yelled at the two Abyss Mages who captured you. They both jumped and turned to face you, “Why am I here! I swear if any of my men died...”

“You’re awake.” One of them chirped.

“You’re awake-” you mocked, “did you think I was sleep talking or something?! Let me out of this!”

“We know about your true power.” The other one chimed in, “We know what happened that night. It was our allies who you killed. You must face punishment.”

You stared blankly before breaking out into laughter, “Wait - that was you guys? God, you’re pathetic! Can’t believe I was relying on someone to save me.” You began to struggle against the ropes.

“The ropes are sealed, they can only be undone with the work of a Vision. We know you are Visionless - none of the Archons would grant something as lowly as you power.”

“Oh,” you bit your lip, “that might be a problem.”

“So you accept your fate!” 

“Let our justice reign down-”

Kaeya, who was standing on the staircase watching this all happen, let a laugh slip out.

“-who was that?!”

He walked down the rest of the stairs and clapped his hands, “Great show you two have put on here.”

“K-Kaeya!” You yelled. “Did you grab it?”

He threw your vision to you, and just being near to it made the ropes fall to the ground. 

“I-Impossible!” 

You stretched, stood, and smiled widely at your kidnappers, “I hope I’m not rusty.”

Within seconds, the Abyss Mages were dead. Ice bit at your skin, and, once again, there was blood on your hands.

You looked at your hands and felt your body start to shake. Kaeya walked over to you but stopped when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t... don’t look at me.” You turned away from him, “I’m... I’m no better than them.”

His heart snapped in two, “(Y/N)...”

“You heard what they said. I’m a killer. I killed everyone I cared about and after everything, after every promise I made... I just... I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, don’t look at me.”

“If you’re bad then I’m the worst.” He stepped over the corpses, “I didn’t cry when my Father died. I put everyone in danger for fun. I left... well, I can’t call him my brother now, can I?”

You slowly turned to him, “Kaeya, I-”

He kept his gaze on the ground, “I tried to make them happy. And I did- I do- really love him. Even if I’m not his brother, he’s still mine. I didn’t mean to hurt him. That’s all I ever seem to do... I hurt you. I hurt them. And I’ll do it again. I... I know all of their names. You probably don’t believe me, I wouldn’t blame you. I am a bad person.”

In a few steps, you reached him. He looked up at you and felt his eyes widen as his hand hovered above his cheek. You hit him. No, you slapped him.

“Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“Why? You think like this too.”

“Because you’re me.” You stiffened, “Everything you do is something I’ve considered. Every plan you make is one I dream of. Every life you put into my hands is one I know I can leave.”

“But you still...”

You kneeled next to him and grabbed his hands, “Because I am more than these thoughts. I know how much it’d hurt if I let them die, how much their families would cry. I see it, Kaeya. I see the ways you care for people. You can’t tell me it’s all an act.”

“What if I did?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. I don’t believe someone who hates his people would spend time listening to Glory or look into medicines for Anna. You do it even when you think nobodies looking and I...” you took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“My anger for you was directed at myself. I do think you need to change the way you plan things, have more care for people's lives.” You smiled at him and wiped the tears from his eyes, “I’m also really sorry for hitting you.”

“It’s fine, I deserved it.” He chuckled lowly.

“No, you don’t. You did like... a month ago. But not tonight.”

“So, what now?” He looked at you with small tears still in his eyes.

“Well, I think first we get out of here. Next, we should spend some time and work on ourselves. And finally...”

“Finally?”

You blushed, “Let me buy you dinner.”

The two of you left the Domain, and for a reason, no person in Mondstadt could explain, you and Kaeya became inseparable. His plans suddenly became more conscious of his men. 

And together, you began to heal.

[starbuckie]

𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰

challenge: 200 followers challenge by @angrybirdcr

prompt: “there may have been a slight misunderstanding, but nothing we can’t fix.” and locked in the trunk of a car

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 5,504 words

warnings: post-endgame, bucky’s kinda a dick, enemies to friends(?), swearing, angst, mentions of violence, talk about sexual assault, guns, bickering, jealousy

summary: bucky had been adjusting to the new familiarity of having a stable routine, right until she walked in.

a/n: I DON’T NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL. okay, great, done that, but congratulations on 200 followers!! i had so much fun taking part in your writing challenge, so thank you so much. imma be honest, there’s not a lot of romance in this, it’s some enemies to friends type of shit and i genuinely did not think this fic would get so angsty and dark and actually long, but i had an idea and ran with it mid way through the old fic with this prompt. also i had an idea for an epilogue to this, so tell me if you want that part 2 because i am on the verge of writing it. this is not proofread by a beta, but i edited it myself and hope it is okay. anyways, now that we’re done with that, please enjoy this rollercoaster of a fanfic i’ve written.

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Life in the twenty-first century was strange, Bucky concluded. Though he’d been free of HYDRA for around nine years technically, being a fugitive and in another realm didn’t give him much time to learn about the modern world. As soon as he came back, Steve had left him and he had to move on without his childhood best friend. It was hard for him to adjust to this century, with the new rules and the whole scene in general, but he seemed to make it through just fine. He’d come to peace with the fact that there was no escaping the fighting at all, falling into a steady routine that became his holy grail. 

In the new Avengers compound in Upstate New York he felt content and more sure of himself than he’d felt in a very long time. Everyone in the tower was quiet and kept to themselves mostly, still dealing with the aftermath of losing so much in so little time. But in that silence Bucky felt like a free man, able to walk around without fear of being hunted down every second and time to really look about this new world.

There were still times when he woke up in a sweaty panic, disoriented and terrified until he realized he was in the safety of his room in the compound. He’d flinch at loud noises in the quiet and his heart would stop, something that went by unnoticed by everyone else, though he didn’t blame them for it. Bucky felt extreme guilt for the horrible things he had done as the Winter Soldier, memories of bloodied and dead bodies, bodies he had made fall to the ground motionless. It wasn’t him, he knew, but his hand still had pulled the trigger. When he found something new a smile would split across his face, ready to tell Steve what he had discovered, until he remembered that the rambunctious blond boy was gone, a wrinkled grey man with a new family in his place. It still hurt him to think that he had left him so easily, with barely a goodbye. Bucky still had days where he felt so incredibly tired, left still on his bed as horrible thoughts ran through his mind, anxious about the future.

But then he found new things everyday, things that seemed to outweigh the bad by a whole lot. He’d found cool ranch Doritos were the best chips and that he really liked the season of fall with the leaves falling around him as he took a serene walk. He found that he really loved Frozen, the songs and Sven the reindeer making him crack a smile every time he watched it. He found that he could sleep in on his days without missions and Wanda liked her pancakes with an unhealthy amount of syrup on the side to dunk them in. He found that Sam was actually really funny, always making the worst puns or the dirtiest jokes at the most inappropriate of times. He found a new sense of respect and warmth in the family they’d built together, learning how to go on without those that they loved. He found that he was really enjoying his new routine and his new sense of peace with himself.

All until she walked in.

Bucky could still remember the exact moment she flipped their world upside down. Sharon had fawned over her, talking about one of her old SHIELD buddies who was finally coming back to the states. After the organization fell in 2014, Y/N L/N fled to Hawaii, running away to the one place she knew no one would find her. She was done fighting, or that’s what she believed until Thanos showed up. 

It was shameful, really, that Y/N was aware of all the problems that went on, yet did nothing to help. They needed her help, she knew they did, but she couldn’t bring yourself to go help her friends. Originally she was trying for a settled down life, planning to retire from the constant fighting, but after a few failed relationships Y/N realized that she wasn't cut out for that white picket fence life. Those had just been the dreams of a fourteen year old Y/N L/N, left empty and hollow by the horrors she had seen during her time at SHIELD. There was nothing left waiting for her, no family, no friends, but she was too stubborn to get back into the fight, so she stayed in her humid Oahu apartment and waited for something interesting to happen.

Well, maybe Y/N shouldn’t have wished so hard, that “interesting thing” showing up in the form of being snapped out of existence by a large, purple grape.

When she came back she felt nearly indifferent, knowing that five years had passed by her, and though Y/N felt nothing but emptiness she knew that it was time to go back. It was her duty when she had joined SHIELD to always be there and protect, and she had failed that job. But Y/N was more than ready to make up for it. Nothing like Thanos could ever happen again, so she called Sharon, one of her closest friends and previous commanding supervisor at the organization. She was ecstatic to have Y/N back, probably a bit too much, and before she could have second thoughts the girl was on a plane overlooking JFK, ready to land in New York.

So when Y/N walked in, with a tight-lipped smile and butterflies anxiously fluttering in her stomach, Bucky couldn’t help but despise her. Maybe he had formed his opinion off of Sharon’s explanation of her past, but Y/N got the life of settling down that he didn’t and he was infuriatingly jealous. 

“Hey, Bucky, Sam, come meet Y/N!” Sharon said excitedly. Her hair was put back in a headband neatly, two suitcases in hand as she looked at the two tall, muscular men. Of course Y/N recognized both of them, she hadn’t been living under a rock. Keeping up with the news of the Avengers and remaining SHIELD officers had been one of the only things keeping her from coming back, hearing of the terrible fights and destruction done to whole cities. She recognized Sam Wilson, the infamous Falcon being marked down as a “war criminal” in 2016. She never believed that crap, if he and half of the other Avengers were locked up there had to be a good reason behind it.

Then, there was James Buchanan Barnes. Now, she knew him from her eighth grade American history books, reading about the brave Howling Commando who had given up his life for saving the country, but Y/N knew him better as the Winter Soldier from her time at SHIELD. The fight in 2014 had been brutal, hectic in all forms, but she’d caught a few glances at the metal-armed man. He hadn't been in his normal state, with being controlled and tortured by HYDRA at the time, but the kid inside of her freaked out, remembering memories of gossiping with her friends about how hot he was in the textbooks and how much of a hero he was. That man was still in there somewhere, hidden by decades of reprogramming and mind-wiping, and Y/N was finally seeing him in the flesh. She would be working with him daily, living in the same space as him. The thought made her giddy like a middle schooler with her first crush,though his presence was intimidating as well.

“Hi there, I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to be working with you.” Sticking out her hand, she gave a bright smile, already growing out of her nervous state. 

Sam quickly shook Y/N’s hand, giving a warm greeting in response to her introduction. Then she turned to Bucky. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

His cold, dead glare locked onto Y/N, staring straight through her soul. It felt like he could see every insecurity and guilty action she had, and she didn’t like it one bit. “That’s Sergeant Barnes to you.” Without another word, he walked out of the room like a petulant child, leaving Sharon, Sam, and Y/N flabbergasted. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, he’s usually more friendly than that, I’ll go check in on him,” Sharon furiously said with a painfully fake smile. Sam grabbed the new girl by the arm, linking it with his own and led her in another direction as he explained the usual training routine and schedule for the week. 

And while she was completely enraptured by Sam’s comforting words and the exciting compound, her heart still felt heavy from Sergeant Barnes’ cold greeting. 

-

She had tried to be nice. She really had. But after two months it was pretty clear Sergeant Barnes wasn’t getting any better, and Y/N was beyond pissed off. Childish, is what he was being, fucking childish. 

It started off with leaving every room she came into, blatantly ignoring her presence. When she would say hello every morning he’d grunt or even worse, he wouldn’t answer her at all. Y/N had begged Sharon if she knew why the sergeant was acting up, but she didn’t know either and just asked her to ignore him and his “crappy, old-man behaviour”. Sam wasn’t very helpful to Y/N’s cause either, but he was a great mentor and an even better teacher.

Sharon was really the only person Y/N had in her phone, her parents dead and no boyfriend accounted for. The rest of her family had wanted nothing to do with her when she joined SHIELD, but that was okay with her. She knew what she had gotten herself into, and it was an extreme risk to even be acquaintances with her. But now, living with several others in a compound that seemed so large after the great loss, Y/N became part of their family as well. 

It was nice to have friends again, as years of solitude on an island where she knew nobody had made her nearly desperate for more human interaction than with the teenagers who worked the cash registers at the grocery store. Y/N became an integral part of the Avengers (she could actually say that aloud now), going on missions and kicking ass just like she used to. Of course, Sergeant Barnes’ behaviour in and out of missions stayed the same, but she usually tried her best to not take it to heart and move on. After all, she couldn’t have everyone like her.

But one day they both snapped.

Y/N was sitting with Sharon and Wanda, eating lunch and talking over their most recent mission with them and Barnes in Cairo. It hadn’t been a necessarily bad mission, per se, but she had run back into the building to get Wanda out from under a fallen pillar, which apparently was “severely dangerous”. Looking back, she could see how it was, putting her entire team’s secrecy and mission in volatile danger, but Wanda was like her sister and in Y/N’s heart she knew that she had to. Bucky had had to grab them both, nearly dragging her back to the jet before the building had collapsed. He’d been beyond angry with Y/N for the stupid decision, but when they landed he just huffed and stomped away. The redhead was grateful for her and so was Sharon, but lunch was just for a simple stern talking about mission protocols. 

“Y/N, I know that you’re a fantastic agent and even better friend, but when we’re on missions we need that agent. You can’t let your feelings and outside life get in the way of our objective.” Sharon said in a firm voice. Y/N dropped her head in her hands and rubbed her face tiredly.

“I know, Sharon, I’m sorry, Wanda could’ve probably gotten herself out but I just let my instincts act too fast and ran back in without another thought.” She groaned. “Plus, I just caused more damage than anything else. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Wanda and Sharon nodded in understanding just as the Asshole Supreme walked into the kitchen.

“You talking ‘bout how Y/N fucked up the mission yesterday?” Sergeant Barnes grunted. While Sharon and Wanda gasped in shock, Y/N’s eyes were trained at the plate on the table in front of her, not daring to make a sound. She muttered out a sorry and got up to put her dish in the sink. As long as he was here, he was going to make her life a living hell, and as much as she wanted to lash out, it would be cause for her dismissal from the team. While her old, solitary life was what she had once dreamed of, Y/N now saw her future among these people, this family, somewhere she finally felt a part of despite Barnes’ horrid behaviour. “Sorry?” He scoffed, “Sorry doesn’t make up for the fact that I had to run back in for you. Sorry doesn’t make up for the extreme risks we all pull to save your ass out in the field.”

“Bucky, stop.” Sharon yelled.

But he ignored her words and sauntered over to Y/N with a knowing smirk, leaning down to meet her level. His warm breath hit her face and she could stare into his deep eyes, swirling like a raging storm of blues and greys. “You shouldn’t even be out there, L/N. I mean, you haven’t had training in years, it’s not like you were anything special either. Just another agent, hoping to get to work in the big leagues.”

“Shut up.” Y/N whispered meekly. Tears were just barely being held in, her chest feeling empty and hollow with anger and guilt. Is this what it felt like to want to kill someone with so much vengeance? 

“Where were you when Thanos came? Where were you, L/N? We needed all the help we could get, but there you are, in fucking Hawaii, with you little fucking margaritas on the fucking beach-”

“Shut the fuck up!” She screamed. The room went dead silent with her voice. None of the team had seen Y/N look so angry, so sad, so vulnerable, at one time. It was easy for her to hide her emotions and Wanda refrained from trying to toy with her mind, but shame was overwhelming the girl by the second and Sergeant Barnes was right, as much as she didn’t want to say it. She was a coward, thinking she could run away from the “hero life” so easily. They’d caught her, and Barnes was making her face that truth right now. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I know, that I was absolutely scared shitless of returning here, facing all of you after what you endured for so long?” 

Y/N took a deep breath, laughing mirthlessly as tears ran hot down her cheeks. “I’m sorry that I came back, I really am, but I’m trying my damn best to make up for what I did. Being scared is no excuse for why I ran away, I was fucking terrified of having one more thing to lose. My family is dead, SHIELD fell, and I had no one to lean on so I ran as far as I fucking could. But I’m back now, I’m ready to serve up to what I left behind, and you better fucking deal with it because this,” she jabbed a finger into his broad chest, “is not fucking it. I’m not going to live with your shitty behaviour anymore, Barnes.”

He, Wanda, and Sharon all watched as she slammed the plate into the sink, storming out of the room. They could hear her door slam shut, and the two women glared at Bucky.

“What the hell is your problem, Barnes” Wanda hissed in a scarily low voice. Fuck. He knew he’d messed up then, gone farther than he ever dared to with insulting Y/N, and both of the women were severely overprotective of the new Avenger. 

Sharon walked up to Bucky with large strides, delivering a slap to the side of his head. Yeah, he definitely deserved that. It was dead silent in the kitchen, the tension still high strung from the fight seconds before. “You better go apologize, Barnes, I swear to God this has gotten far too out of hand. You two have a mission tomorrow, estimated a month, and wheels are up at 2300 hours. I need you two to go get the intel quietly and undetected and we can’t have both of you arguing the whole damn time, so you better fix things by then.”

The blonde agent walked away, Wanda trailing behind her, but not without the middle finger from both of them. A mission? Tomorrow? With Y/N? This was going to be horrible. Bucky ran a hand over his face and trudged off to his room. 

It was going to be a long month.

-

Y/N stared out of the window as they flew over the clouds above the Mediteranean Sea. Eleven in the morning in Italy gave a clear view of the skies, light blue as far as she could see. They were ready to start their descent into Azzano and the woman glanced to the man beside her, his stormy blue eyes glaring in any direction but hers. The sergeant had avoided her all he could up until they boarded the jet, and even then he only spoke to her when necessary. “Hey, Barnes, we’re starting to descend, go get ready.”

The brunette looked over to Y/N and grunted in response. Oh well, it was better than him yelling at her. His little outburst in the kitchen had her pissed at him more than ever, but the words thrown around still rung true in her head. But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

She paid careful attention to where she was supposed to land, a shaded facility almost five miles south of where they had to get the intel from an old, but rebuilt HYDRA base. The same base where James Buchanan Barnes was once held captive, experimented on and tortured until Steve Rogers came to save him. Y/N didn’t care much for Barnes usually, but she also didn’t know how he’d react to being in a location with such horrible memories attached to it. They had both been at the mission briefing the day before of course, he knew what it entailed and he seemed unfazed, and he was always good at hiding his emotions. As the jet touched down finally, the agent thought back. Well, sometimes he was good at hiding his emotions.

Making sure her comm fit snugly in her ear, Y/N unbuckled herself from the seat, heading back towards the wall of weaponry they kept in the back of the jet. Barnes was already there dressed in hs black kevlar tactical suit, hugging his body nicely and vibranium arm on display. When he was around her he tried to hide it, and she saw him joking around and being comfortable in other’s presence with it out, wondering what made her so different. She personally found it fascinating, the beauty of the gold and black metal with the incredible Wakandan technology, but she respected his privacy and tried to not think too much about it. 

Y/N threw a vest on over her own navy blue tac suit, tightening her combat boots before she fully zipped up. Were they finally ready?

Three guns perched in holsters by her waist.

Two taps to her earpiece and Barnes’ breathing in her ear.

One mutual nod with the sergeant himself, and they were off, slowly making their way to grab the intel, not a trace to be left behind. 

-

Getting stuck in the trunk of a car was not in the plan. It definitely wasn’t. Bucky remembered every single inch and cranny of that meticulously planned out schedule, every move, every kill they had to make, but not once was it mentioned that Y/N was to get stuck in Baron Zemo’s car without any weapons on her.

“L/N, what the hell do you mean you’re in the back of Zemo’s car.” He seethed, already searching frantically around the large remains of the building for her. It had gone smoothly, she was just supposed to quickly check inside his car as he searched the base. It’ll be so much quicker if I do it, L/N, is what he had said, but now he regretted it. Like the incompetent fool she was, she was spotted and ended up shooting out half of Zemo’s goonies before dropping all her weapons to the ground and running when she ran out of ammunition.

“There may have been a slight misunderstanding,” Y/N whispered into her comm, “but nothing we can’t fix! Just come find me, Barnes, and all will be well.”

She could hear his angry curses and jostling, which she assumed he was running to come find her. It wasn’t entirely Y/N’s fault she had run out of ammo. Some of it must have fallen from her pockets during the shootout and when she saw the car she thought it’d be the perfect place to hide. Until she realized that no one else was at the partially burned down HYDRA base besides Baron Zemo, the person who Sharon had told her to avoid at all costs, and she was in his damn car. Practically her death note.

“If you had just listened to me you wouldn’t have been caught!” Bucky furiously whispered through the comms. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t even see her, and groaned. “I did listen to you, Barnes, I checked the damn car, but we weren’t expecting his guards to find me so I killed them and hid. Is that actually so bad?” 

“Yes it is!’ He explained. “Give me your coordinates.” She checked the small watch on her wrist, pushing a button on the side that gave a small holographic image of the time and her coordinates on a world wide map. Reciting them for him, Bucky followed, continuing to berate her as he did so. “And you’re right, L/N, I asked you to check the car, not fucking jump inside it!”

This time Bucky could envision her rolling her eyes as she groaned even louder in very Y/N L/N fashion. “Would you rather I be dead?” She asked. It had been a few seconds, but she still received no response. “Barnes?” Crackling. “Sergeant?” Absolute nothingness. “Sarge?”

The trunk of the car opened as the woman let out a squeak, the broad frame of James Barnes hovering above her, some dirt smudged around the annoyed expression on his face. “Don’t call me that.” He grumbled.

He reached his hand towards her, grasping her own tightly before pulling her to a sitting position. “Why, you had all the ladies calling you that back in the day?” She mimicked a much higher tone, nearly resembling Snow White if the princess were high on drugs and had a Brooklyn accent. “Hey, Sarge, we goin’ dancing? Sarge, you goin’ to give me some sweet lovin’ tonight? Oh, how I’d just love for you to shove your fat, ugly head up your a-”

A loud beeping from his wristwatch cut her off. With a glare, the man let go of Y/N’s hand, checking to see what the problem was. A small red tracker on the map moved, and both of them knew they were in deep shit. “Crap, Zemo’s coming this way. That’s one of the trackers I set up on the ground and we gotta go quick.”

Faint whistling from Baron Zemo made both of them panic as Bucky tackled her back down and quickly shut the door behind him. Footsteps were approaching, the whistling getting louder and a door opening let the two Avengers know that they couldn’t get out anytime soon. Y/N could feel Bucky’s racing heart against her chest, hers beating just as fast. He turned to face her, a lot closer than both of them expected, lips dangerously close and noses nudging against each other. Ther breaths mixed together, the hot air of the car doing nothing to help her current close quarters with the man. 

“Can you bust us out of here?” She whispered hurriedly, rather uncomfortable with the present situation.

“We’ll die if we leave now. He’s much more prepared than we thought and with half his men down he knows something is up. Zemo wasn’t even supposed to know we were here so we’re far too unprepared and you lost your damn weapons. There’s no way we can go out so we’re going to stick in here until he gets out.”

Truth be told, Bucky was terrified and had no clue what to do next. Being stuck in a small confined space with Y/N had to be his worst nightmare, especially after he didn’t apologize for his shitty behavior last night. And the night before. 

And the several months before that.

From his view Y/N seemed to be uncomfortable and as the car started moving, she wiggled around, struggling to get as far away from Bucky as she could. He too was extremely uncomfortable, but as her wriggling continued, his already tight fitting pants seemed to get even impossible tighter as she practically grinded on him. 

“Would you stop squirming around?” Y/N shot him what would’ve been a questioning glance if not for the pitch blackness of the trunk, and heard his loud sigh, warm breath fanning across her face. “I’m sorry, I’m having a situation, uh, down there and your wiggling isn’t helping it too much.”

Her face heated up, not knowing what to feel after he said that. Was he… flustered? Y/N had never seen Bucky Barnes anything less than grumpy or professional before.

When she said nothing, he assumed the worst and thought she saw him as a disgusting and creepy person. Before that moment he’d never had any particular care about how Y/N felt, but he knew that there were still a lot of perverts, if not more perverts than back in his day. With his four little sisters always getting catcalled and the crude men who thought women were their property, Bucky knew it was definitely terrifying to be assaulted or any situation such as this. 

There wasn’t much he could do, but he shifted so they weren’t lying down hip bone to hip bone. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I don’t want you to think I’m a pervert or anything, it’s just been a while since I, well, y’know…”

“I understand, Barnes, but thank you for apologizing.” Y/N said carefully. It was weird to hear the now shy and surprisingly considerate sergeant apologize to her, but she had to admit that her respect for him had gone up. 

He cleared his throat in return, trying to turn in any other direction besides hers as they listened to the tires of the car bumping along the road, heart wildly thumping. 

It was quiet. Far more quiet than it had ever been when either of them were in the same room. As Y/N stared down at Bucky’s head, almost resting on her stomach, she saw the man she’d read about in middle school. For a moment she was able to look past the last few months of fighting and hatred, and see the noble sergeant she’d admired for so long. 

“You can rest your head if you want to, I knew keeping it up like that must be hurting your neck. I promise I’m okay with it.” She reassured him. With a small hesitation, Barnes submitted to his screaming neck muscles and laid his head on her stomach, the vest providing cushion. A few more seconds of silence and gathering courage, and she finally asked him the question she had been wondering since her first day at the compound. “Why do you hate me?”

I’m jealous, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t brave enough to say it. With a small sigh, he managed to get out, “I don’t.”

“Then why are you so cold to me all the time?” Emotions that were borrowed so deep inside Y/N’s chest seemed to come barreling out, seeping into every question that she asked. “Am I really that horrible an agent? Do you not think I’m trying my best? I know I made a mistake, I wasn’t there when you all needed me, but I’m trying so, so damn hard to make up for it. I swear on my life, and every one that comes after it, that I’m-”

“It’s not you, it’s me, God damn it!” Bucky exclaimed angrily. Both of their blood ran cold in fear that Zemo might have heard them, but the radio continued to drone on in the background, nothing seeming to have changed. He took a deep sigh and tried how to best explain it to her. Even though he’d probably never have Y/N’s forgiveness for insulting her so plainly and hurting her so much, he felt as though she deserved as much as his reasoning as to why he “disliked” her so much. It was difficult for him to say, having to also put his pride away for once to just admit it. “I’m jealous of you, Y/N. You got the sweet life for a while, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. When you look at us who remain, not a single one of us was planning to be an Avenger. You were getting the dream home, the kids, the family that I’ve wanted since I was a boy back in Brooklyn, and all you had to do to get it was run away. It was so simple.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, not at all expecting that. “It wasn’t all too much ‘sweet life’, you know? It was my dream when I was younger, I thought being an agent was temporary and then I’d move into a big, old house with a loving spouse and have millions of little carbon copies of myself to occupy my days. But the truth about what we do is that we can only stay away from it for so long, Barnes. With people like us,” she squeezed her eyes shut, letting the final tears roll down her cheeks, “there’s no running away from the hero's life. It's just who we are. We’ve already done too much to change that part of our lives.” 

Y/N felt him nod through the fabric on her skin, sniffles letting her know that he was crying too. They were connected. All the shouting, all the yelling, the pain, the battles, the fore, the blood, the years of torture, all led to this moment. This historic moment in Y/N and Bucky’s relationship where they both waved white flags, wet faces and hearts filled with sorrow for the life they never had. 

“I’m so sorry for the way I dealt with my anger and jealousy, Y/N.” Bucky croaked. 

“I used to idolize you when I was a kid.” Y/N recalled with a faint smile on her face. “In the eighth grade I wrote a history paper on you, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, American hero and inspiration to all. And you know, I always kinda had a crush on you. Wondered what it would be like if you were still alive, if you would’ve gone home after the war, if you would’ve had a family. No matter what wild thoughts ran through my head, though, you were always my hero.” Bucky took her confession in shock, pure amazement and surprise coursing through his body. Maybe a little bit of sadness, longing for that old life, maybe a bit of bashfulness of her having a crush on his as a schoolgirl. “And then I met you and you were this grumpy, irritable old man who seemed to despise me as soon as I walked in the door. Definitely not what I had expected.” He opened his mouth, ready to apologize again, when her next words cut him off. “I want to start over, don’t you?”

How was she so calming? Her words were exactly what he needed to hear and didn’t need to at the same time. Her voice brought back all the old memories of running around New York with Steve as a kid, reminding him of his wise ma in a way. “There’s nothing I’d like more than that, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled to herself, looking towards the top of the car. “Perfect.”

And with the twinkle in her eye and his head resting on her stomach with a small grin, it really was.

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Only Have Eyes For You

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Character/s: Connor Rhodes x Reader,

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 3,162

Request:  Hi there, can I get an imagine for reader x Connor Rhodes. Lightly based upon 01x03 Fallback where Connor treats on one of his father's employees and his father tried to take him off the case. So like the reader and Connor are married (got married during their residency) and the father flirts with reader who also works at med not knowing that's his son's wife as he didn't think someone like Connor could snag a girl like the reader. The ending is up to you. Thank you x

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you suggested, putting your hand on your husband, Connor’s, shoulder as he stared distantly into his locker, his mind clearly elsewhere. 

“I don’t want to talk to him Y/N, I’ve barely spoken to him in years,” Connor sighed, slamming his locker closed and turning to face you. He hadn’t expect to see his dad today, heading into Med behind an ambulance basically demanding to speak to Miss Goodwin and his son at once. Connor had been in surgery at the start of shift so he hadn’t actually come face to face with the man yet, but it was only a matter of time.

“Well now might be your chance, he is in the ED afterall,” you reminded him and he rubbed his face with his hands. It had been a long surgery, starting off the last shift of a very long week, and you knew the last thing your husband wanted was to talk to his father, but maybe he needed to.

“He’s downstairs because one of his employees got hurt on the job and he’s trying to do damage control before a lawsuit is filed, he isn’t here to see me,” Connor all but snapped, his face softening when he realised and squeezing your hand apologetically. There had been some kind of mishap at one of his stores from what you could gather, and one of Cornelius’ workers had found himself practically crushed under a bit of the structure that wasn’t as up to code as it should be.

“I get that, really Connor I do, I’m just saying that while he’s here, maybe you should talk to him, even if it’s just to say your piece,” you tried, knowing that Connor still had a lot of baggage surrounding his father, baggage that had been putting a bit of a strain on your marriage, or more specifically, any discussion of having children. Getting things off of his chest might be the only way for him to move forward, you reasoned.

“I have nothing to say to him, Y/N, he’s the parent, not me, it shouldn’t be on me to be the bigger person,” Connor replied, and he was right, but damn if the Rhodes men weren’t the most stubborn men you’d ever met.

“But you are the bigger person, the better person-” you began, knowing that Connor was ten times the man his father was, and maybe it was about time Cornelius Rhodes saw that for himself, but you were starting to realise that you were crossing a line as Connor interrupted you.

“Y/N, the last time I tried to reach out to my father he decided he’d rather go on a business trip than attend his own son’s wedding,” he said, the bitter undertones very clear as you remembered how crushed he’d been. No matter how bad their relationship was, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, you knew Connor still loved his father, and for him to not show up to his own wedding had broken his heart. “Baby he’s never even met you, and that’s that on him, he’s made his priorities perfecrly clear.” he continued, cupping your face in his hands.

“Okay, okay,” you nodded, realising you weren’t getting anywhere with this conversation, “do you want me to drop it?” It was what you always asked each other when it seemed like you were going to have an argument, or whether you weren’t sure if you’d crossed a line in a conversation, you tried to respect each others boundaries as much as possible. 

“Please, I know you’re trying to help but my relationship with my father is basically unsalvageable, and I’m moving forward,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, he was trying hard to make you believe him but you both knew you really didn’t, this wasn’t the kind of thing you just moved forward from.

“If you’re sure, he won’t be around forever,” you gave it one last try before letting it go for now, telling yourself you’d broach the subject again at a later date.

“I know, and I am,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before pulling away and grabbing his stethescope off of the table next to you, “thank you, though,” he added.

“For what?” You asked finally closing your own locker.

“For being so very you,” he smiled, a genuine smile this time as he looked back to you, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, kissing his again as your phone vibrated in your pocket. Stepping back you fished it out, seeing a text from Will. “Oh that’s me, Will wants me in three to help with Mr Harris,” you explained to Connor as you both headed out the door towards the ED.

“My father’s guy?” Connor realised, opening the door for you and letting you out first as you checked over the message; apparently Cornelius was demanding a second opinion, clearly not satisfied by Will’s, but you decided not to tell Connor that right now.

“Yeah that’s the one,” you nodded, slipping the phone back into your pocket before he could see the rest of the text as you noticed Maggie signalling for you to hurry it along, that couldn’t be good.

“Good luck, you’re gonna need it,” Connor noted Maggie’s impatient gestures as you picked up the pace.

“You’re all the luck I need,” you joked, winking at him as you parted ways, Dr Latham needed him upstairs in 5 for a consult, a fact which he was more than happy with since he was supposed to be working the ED all day.

“Ooh cheesy, go on get out of here,” Connor laughed as you waved your goodbyes, heading to three. 

Maggie met you half way and handed you Mr Harris’ chart, looking irritated.

“Everything okay?” You asked, noting the angry voices you could now hear coming from the room to your right, the curtains not providing much in the way of sound proofing, not that you thought Cornelius cared much.

“How Connor turned out the way he did with a father like that is beyond me,” Maggie told you quietly as you quickly flipped through the chart, “he’s been demanding this, that and the other since he got here, and now he thinks Dr Halstead’s not telling Mr Harris all his option because he just wants to ‘extort him for more money’,” she mimicked in a hushed tone as you rolled you eyes, it’s not like he couldn’t afford it anyway, you thought, but there was something about having more money that made some people think they were so damn entitled...

Putting on your best cordial smile you pulled back the curtain and entered, the men stopping in their heated conversation as you did, frozen on some discussion about cost. Will did his best to hide his relieved look when he saw you and Cornelius grumbled in frustration, completely unaware he was standing face to face with his daughter-in-law for the first time.

“Everything okay in here?” You asked, looking between the two men on their feet and the tired, slightly embarrassed, looking man in the hospital bed. 

“Terrific sweetheart,” Cornelius retorted sarcastically and you internally rolled your eyes. Externally, you kept your features schooled and looked to the patient in the bed.

“Hi Mr Harris, my name is Doctor Y/L/N,” you told him, having kept your last name when you’d married Connor, a fact you were pretty glad about right now. You offered your hand and he shook it gratefully.

“Pleasure,” he said as you stepped back, facing Cornelius Rhodes as he rubbed his temple before looking to you, taking you in for the first time as he straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

“Cornelius Rhodes, it’s lovely to meet you,” he offered his hand and you shook it, the way he was looking at you making your skin crawl a little as he finally let go. “I was just discussing with your collegue over here the best treatment for my man here, and we seem to be having a disagreement,” the way his demeanor had changed in your presence was alarming, and Will was clearly taken aback by it too, he’d gone from demanding to charming in the blink of an eye.

“I see, well from reading Mr Harris’ chart it’s clear that there are only two option available, the impact seems to have done some internal damage that, while it might heal on its own over time, will most likely require surgery,” you explained in your perfected doctor voice as Will threw you a grateful glance. Cornelius clenched his jaw as he tried to maintain his own facade, pretending to mull over your words even though you knew Will would have said basically the same thing, and that Cornelius had already made up his mind. 

“Surgery really is the best option Mr Harris,” Will told the patient, but instead of replying he looked back to Cornelius, the man who would be paying for either option no doubt. The surgery would be expensive, you knew that, and it grated you to know that the fate of this man’s life possibly rested on the greed of Cornelius Rhodes. Could Connor talk some sense into him? You mused to yourself as he began to answer.

“I understand your concern,” he said finally, addressing you alone, a far cry from the accusations of greed he’d thrown at Will before you arrived, “but that kind of surgery is not only expensive, but the recovery time would put him out of work, and he wouldn’t want that.” You hid your grimace as Mr Harris nodded, clearly feeling like he had to agree.

“I have deadlines coming up,” he spoke up as Cornelius gestured to him as if to say, see, there you have it, settled, as you did your best to maintain your friendly face. 

“I understand where you’re coming from Mr Rhodes,” you lied, regreting ever trying to get Connor to patch things up with this vile, self-serving man. He didn’t deserve Connor for a son. “But if we leave it and it gets worse, the surgery will be much more invasive and expensive further down the line, not to mention the high risk and potential complications,” Mr Harris paled a little, but still waited for Cornelius to answer. 

Seriously? He could sue this man and yet he was still scared of him, the man probably had no means of paying for the court bills that would require anyway, he needed Cornelius’ paychecks to keep a roof over his head. And he was making decisions about his life like he was a god damn asset and not a person.

“Well, that would be unfortunate,” Cornelius pondered and Will looked like he was close to losing it. It was no secret he prioritised his patients over all else, even their own wishes sometimes, and it was also no secret he’d never liked Cornelius Rhodes. 

“Mr Rhodes-” Mr Harris voiced up but he was shushed, the other man still thinking. You didn’t know whether you or Will were closer to punching the man, Mr Harris clearly wanting to have the surgery now in fear of more severe future complications. If Cornelius wasn’t such an arrogant-

“Alright, if you thinking it will save money in the future- and more important of course Joseph’s well-being, then I suppose we could do the surgery,” he decided and Mr Harris sighed in relief. Cornelius smiled smugly, like he’d done something so generous, it made you sick to your stomach. 

You consciously twisted the wedding ring on your finger as Will fetched the paperwork and soon Mr Harris was being wheeled off to wait for his surgery in a room upstairs, clearing the bay in the ED for the next patient. Will was more than happy to take the next person through the doors as you finalised the paperwork with Maggie, scheduling in his surgery in the system. 

Connor texted you then as Cornelius was practically stalking towards you at the desks. He was letting you know that he was finished with Dr Latham and had thought about what you’d said, and maybe it was a good idea to talk to his father before he left. He’d be coming down any minute, but before you could reply Cornelius had reached you at the desks, a predatory look in his eyes that set off your fight or flight response. 

“Dr Y/LN,” he grinned and you returned a polite and professional smile as he invaded your personal space, looking you up and down in a way that was so not okay, even if you weren’t his son’s wife. “Thank you for your help in there, your input was very... refreshing.”

“Of course, I was just doing my job, I’m glad Mr Harris is able to get the treatment he needs,” you replied tightly, realising that this conversation was far from over as he continued talking.

“It was the least I could you,” he said,  seeming to take your statement as some kind of thanks or compliment to his ‘generosity’. “Say, how about you and me grab a coffee in the cafeteria so you can explain more about how this procedure works, on me of course. If you’re busy now, maybe after you finish work?” As he finished talking he inched closer to you, eyeing you suggestively. 

Was he making a pass at you? Was this actually happening right now? You blinked in shock and it took you a second for your brain to process what was happening before you could answer him.

“Mr Rhodes, I’m flattered” you began and he grinned, like he already had it figured out that you were going to say yes even though you were far from actually flattered, “and while I would be happy to discuss your employee’s treatment with you in a professional manner, I’m... I’m married,” you explained, flashing your ring at him, the ring that his son had put on your finger.

“Well I don’t see him around anywhere,” Cornelius winked at you and you took an instinctive step back, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, probably the latter if you were honest. “He’d never know.”

“Oh I’m certain he would,” a voice said from behind you and you turned to see Connor heading towards you both, anger clear on his face as he looked from you to his father. 

“And why’s that?” Cornelius asked defiantly, practically looking down his nose at his son, clearly not getting the hint from what he had said about who your husband was.

“Because I am her husband,” Connor said definitely, standing next to your side as you relaxed, feeling instantly better in his presence. Cornelius balked a little, he really had had no idea who you were this entire time.  It took him a second to regain his composure but when he did, instead of opting for the apology you’d expect from any normal person, he did the exact opposite, actually defending his slimy actions.

“How was I supposed to know that?” He huffed like he wasn’t invited to your wedding, when he’d made the decision to not come of his own accord. Connor put a protective hand on the small of your back, aware you were drawing a bit of attention as April had paused her typing on the computer.

“Well, dad, maybe if you’d come to our wedding, or our anniversary, or any of my birthdays, you would have known that Y/N’s been my wife for the past three and a half years,” Connor’s voice wasn’t raised but you could tell he was getting more and more aggitated by this encounter. He wouldn’t have liked anyone making a move on his wife, let alone his own father.

Cornelius had the nerve to chuckle at that, “honestly I’m just surprised a boy like you could wrangle a woman like this,” he said as you clenched your jaw, so many parts of that sentence rubbing you the wrong was. You could tell Connor felt the same, his stance very defensive as you replied.

"What is that supposed to mean?” You demanded before Connor could speak, Cornelius’ eyes snapping to you like he’d forgotten you were an actual person and not just an object to fight over. “What about me and Connor is so surprising to you?”

“Honestly, you could do better.” he said matter-of-factly and you rolled your eyes, any appearance of a professional facade gone as you faced your father-in-law.

Now it was Connor’s turn to laugh, but it was a dry laugh as he said: “and what, you think your ‘better’?” Cornelius shrugged, the look on his face telling you that that was in fact what he meant. Connor shook his head in disbelief, the first time he was seeing his father in a long time and all of his reservations and fears were being entirely justified as he stood before the two of you.

It was time to end this, you decided, folding your arms and squaring up to Cornelius. “Better? The man who’d rather save money than a man’s life, who thinks it’s appropriate to not only hit on a woman while she’s at work, but to blatantly tell her to... cheat on her husband when she tries to politely tell you she’s not interested. Connor’s a good man, a much much better man than you, inspite of the fact that your raised him, and he doesn’t owe you another second of his time, neither of us do.” You took a breath as both Rhodes men blinked at you in shock. “Now, Mr Rhodes if you’ll excuse us we actually have jobs to be doing, I’d be happy to have somebody escort you to where you can wait,” you finished, seeing April grin out the corner of you eye as Cornelius got a little flustered, clearly not used to anyone, especially women you reckoned, putting him in his place. 

“I’m had enough of trying to reach out to you, I felt like I still had something to prove to you, like it was on me to mend what was broken between us. But you’re not worth it dad, you’re just not worth it. We’re done here, stay away from me, and definitely stay away from my wife,” Connor told his father, gesturing with his head for security to come show him to the waiting room. 

“Oh this is far from over,” Cornelius raised his voice, pointing his finger at his son as security reached you. But Connor didn’t waiver, clear for the first time as he just looked at his father, shaking his head before turning to walk away. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and he was finally ready to walk away from his father, quite literally in this case as you went to follow your husband.

This wound would never go away entirely, but now, maybe, you really could move forward.