#Tilt Indicator Labels

[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat." 

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend." 

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board. 

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck. 

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there. 

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up. 

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered. 

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too!  A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking." 

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense. 

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall. 

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host. 

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again. 

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more? 

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back? 

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID." 

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard. 

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties. 

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone. 

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again. 

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him. 

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here. 

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone. 

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb. 

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this. 

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him. 

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The Other Half

Warning(s): Yandere themes (at the end), neglect, mentions of pills (but she doesn't actually take them), a lot of swearing, stealing, mentions of cheating and bribery, attempted guilt tripping, forcing to drop out, reader is just a millennial in the 2020s

(This chapter is basically the other part of the prologue, and I fixed some things. Most of this chapter just shows reader's personal life at school.)

~~~~~

How long has it been has you stopped being Batgirl?

Days... Weeks... Months... A year?

Honestly, you don't really care. It's more like you don't feel to care anymore.

After you threw out your costume in that dumpster, you just lost all hope of whatever you'll become.

You were walking down the hallway of the Wayne manor as you think about all of this.

If nobody really cared about what you did, then why bother keep going? I mean, your family didn't really give you a lot of praise.

You let out a heavy sigh as you enter the bathroom. When you locked the door, you couldn't help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were still kinda empty but a little bright at the same time. Your hair feels so smooth and soft. And your skin... it just looks so perfect. This makes you think to yourself...

Since when did you become so pretty?

After staring at yourself in the mirror, you were about to leave the bathroom before you gaze lands on something.

It was an orange pill bottle.

"SSRI..."

You mutter out as you read the label.

You opened the door to peak to see if anyone was in the hallway. Coast clear.

With that, you took the pill bottle and put it in your top since you didn't have any pockets.

~~~~~

The first week when you started eighth grade came by quickly.

You were just wandering down around the hallway alone as many students walked by you to either go to class or skip to go somewhere.

As you walked down the hallway, you spotted someone approaching you.

"Uh, hey."

The voice calls out to you as the person walks towards you.

It was a guy with slightly bushy blonde hair with brown eyes. He seems to be around your age.

You only blinked before you spoke up.

"Hi."

You responded blankly.

"Um, are you new here?"

He asks as he rubs the back of his head.

"I've been going here for two years."

You said as you just stood there, staring at this boring looking guy.

"Oh, cool... I just thought that since I've never seen you around here before. Anyway, do you know where your classes are?"

He asks which makes you tilt your head to the side a bit.

"Kinda. I've seen all of the classes here around this building, so I think I'm going to be fine."

You said as you place your hand on your hip.

"Okay, that's cool. I'm Peter, by the way. What's your name?"

The guy whose name is Peter introduces himself with a small smile.

You were silent for a bit, surprised that someone actually spoke to you. You decided to... be nice, I guess.

"(name)."

You simply replied with your hand still on your hip.

"Aw, cool. It was nice meeting you (name). Hey, if you want, maybe we can hang out. You know, as friends? Maybe more...?"

Peter said as if he had high hope.

You just blinked before you replied.

"I literally just met you."

"Well... yeah, but-"

The guy tries to explain himself before you caught him off again.

"Well, I'm going to find my class now. See ya."

You said before you turned and walked away.

Was that guy really trying to hit on you?

~~~~~

You enter the classroom that seems to look like any other classroom.

"Ah, we have our first tardy student. Welcome to English 2. My name is Ms. Tucker, what is yours?"

The teacher said as she turned to you.

You stayed by the doorway for a moment, looking unfazed.

"Um... Beyoncé?"

You replied which made the students in the class laugh.

"Settle down! I have to look it up in the attendance sheet, then..."

Your teacher said with a sigh before she pointed at an empty desk, indicating that your new seat was.

As you sat down, Ms. Tucker speaks up again.

"Alright then, now I see that everyone's present, I want to start off with some first day reading. Basically, like silent reading time."

She said before a girl raised her hand.

"Can we read manga?"

She asks, which makes the teacher raise her eyebrow.

"Is that like... a comic book?"

"Does it even matter?"

"Well, I don't think they're fitting for your age."

"You literally just said to 'read a book'. Manga is technically a book."

"I'm not sure if that's school appropriate."

"I just saw a manga section in the school library earlier, how the fuck is that not school appropriate?"

"Not getting to the point here. I'm just saying to read something more like you kids would like."

"And what's that?"

"How about... The Catcher in the Rye? Written by J.D. Salinger?"

Everyone fell silent before you spoke up.

"You're such a fucking white mom, it's not even funny."

This made everyone in the class burst out laughing.

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"You heard me, bitch."

The students laughed even more.

"Go to the headmaster's office!"

Ms. Tucker yells as she points to the door.

~~~~~

"You're on thin ice on the first day, (name)."

The headmaster said with her hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault that Ms. Tucker is such a bitch and also, there was this other girl who interrupted her."

You said as you were seated in front of her.

"Don't shift this onto someone else, (name). We're talking about you right now."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Accidentally call my teacher a fucking white mom?"

"You're supposed to follow the school rules and not insult your teachers. You should've known this."

"I do."

"Then, why did you do it anyway?"

You purse your lips before you respond.

"Because it's funny."

Your response made your headmaster sigh to calm herself down.

"Well... if this doesn't work out for you, we can always transfer you in an alternative educational system instead."

She suggests using a calm, patient expression on her face.

"I swear to god if you put me in one of those schools that have nothing but those weird, delusional people who believe in 'those' kinds of inclusivity topics, I will actually bully the fuck out of all of them."

You told her with a slightly irritated expression on your face.

"I wasn't implying to those schools, (name). We have other educational systems for students who don't seem to get along."

Your headmaster said which made you raise your eyebrow.

"Really now?"

"I wouldn't try to get into them if I were you. Please believe me when I tell you that the school you're in right now is actually a good thing."

She explains to you which made you seem to be in more thought.

~~~~~

Later in lunch, you were sitting at a table alone as you stared down at the food that Alfred made for you.

"Damn, it's fucking freezing in here. Why do they always turn up the AC?"

You mutter to yourself as you slightly shiver.

"Fucking tell me about it."

A voice pipes up that makes you look up to see two girls who are wearing the same uniform as you, walking over to you.

"Oh, sorry. Were you guys sitting here? I can move if you want."

You said before one of them shook her head.

"Nah, it's fine. You seem cool."

She said as she and the other girl sits down in front of you.

"I'm Noelle, and this is Sasha."

The girl in the bob cut said as the other girl nodded.

"I'm (name)."

You said in a bored tone.

"(name)... such a cute name. I like it."

Noelle said with a small smile.

"So, where did you come from?"

"The headmaster's office."

You said as you roll your eyes.

"Damn, the headmaster's office on the first day? What did you do?"

Sasha asks as she rests her chin on the palm of her hand.

"I told Ms. Tucker that she was a fucking white mom."

You respond in an emotionless tone.

"She is, isn't she?"

"Yeah, except I don't think she's married or anything."

"You don't need to be married to be a mom."

"That's true."

"Anyway, that was really good."

"I know."

You said with a small smirk on your face, feeling a sense of pride in yourself.

As the three of you were chatting, someone walks up to your table.

"Hey, guys. Hey, Sasha..."

Looking up, you see a slightly tall guy with brown hair, towering over the three of you.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sasha asks as she glares up at the guy.

"It's me. Ian? I was in your social studies class last year. You know, year 8? You used to copy off of the tests that we took. I'm also in your geography class right now."

He said as Sasha just blankly stared up at him.

"Okay... cool."

"So, anyway, I actually wanna ask you something."

Ian said as he glanced down at the three girls below.

"Who?"

You ask with your eyebrow lifted.

"You, actually."

"Wait, me? Why?"

"I heard about you calling Ms. Tucker names and got sent to the office for that. I want to say that's actually pretty cool."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, so, anyway... I want to know if you're free either tonight or tomorrow."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I actually want to... take you out on a date."

"A date?"

You ask out loud with your eyes wide.

"Yeah. It's not going to be too extreme... just a simple night out at my favorite spot."

Ian said with a smile.

"And where's that?"

You ask with your eyebrow raised.

"The arcade at the alleyway."

"An arcade? Out of all the places, an arcade is your go to spot?"

"Yeah. It's pretty old, but it's also kinda cool."

You just blinked as you were in thought. The guy himself seemed pretty boring, but on second thought, you don't really want to go back home after school.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait, really?"

Ian said out of suprise.

"Yeah, I have nothing else to do. My home life is pretty shitty anyway, so I have no problem."

You tell him.

"Oh, sweet. Okay, then. I'll give you my number to send you the location. It was nice meeting you."

He said before he placed a piece of paper in front of you before he walks off.

"Holy shit..."

Noelle mutters out.

"You got asked out by a grade 9 student."

Sasha said as she stared into you.

"Yeah... Is that a problem?"

You ask.

"No, not at all. It's just that... you got asked out by someone on the first day. That's pretty impressive."

Sasha said in an amazed tone.

"Yeah. I won't be that surprised that it's a super lame dude, but an older dude is kind of just... wow."

Noelle said with her eyes wide.

"So, if I get asked out by an older guy, does that mean it's a good thing?"

You ask as you lean back to your seat.

"Well, it depends on the guy. If he's just a few years older than you, that's fine. But really old dudes, no way."

Sasha said as she stares at your food.

"Hey, are you going to eat that? My mom won't make me anything cause I told her that her new haircut looks like a really trashy lesbian would have, and the school lunch here is just not it."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. The temperature in here made me lose my appetite."

You said as you pushed your lunch towards her.

~~~~~

After school, you went through a very long day.

You had your date with that Ian guy at the arcade. It's pretty trashy but kinda fun. He even got you this massive bunny plushie. After the date, he wanted to take you home, but you just left before he could say anything else. Then, you end up meeting a guy who seems to be around a few years older than you on your way home. He took you to an abandoned building, but he ended up falling asleep the second you two entered. So, you ended up taking his wallet for an Uber. Once the driver dropped you off, he gave you his number for some reason. It was weird, but you took it anyway cause, why not.

~~~~~

"Whew, what a day..."

You muttered to yourself as you entered the Wayne manor.

"Miss (name), where on earth have you been?"

Alfred, the family butler, asks out of shock as he comes downstairs to find you coming inside.

"At an arcade."

You reply in a blank tone.

"So, I'm supposed to believe the story of you being at an arcade after school all night?"

The old butler wonders with his eyebrow lifted.

"All night? I was there for about what... Two or three hours."

"It's two in the morning, miss (name)."

"Oh, wow. I really hung around that building for that long?"

You mutter to yourself out of surprise.

"What building are you talking about, miss (name)?"

Alfred asks as he walks up to you.

"Some abandoned building I went to after my date at that shitty arcade."

You tell the butler as he kneels down to your height.

"How far away were you? Did you walk? Your uniform is a mess!"

He asks as he took a look at you.

"Nah, I got myself an Uber. It's fine."

You tell him with your tone still blank as ever.

"Miss (name), I don't think it's a good idea to accept rides from strangers."

Alfred said with a heavy sigh as he led you upstairs.

"That's how Ubers work, Alfred. You just find someone pretty close to your location and let them drive you anywhere you want. It's like going on a taxi."

You explain to him as he takes you to your bedroom and lets you sit down on your desk chair.

"I suppose. However, you could have given Master Richard or Master Jason to pick you up. I think that'll be a safer option."

Alfred said in reply as he took out some comfortable clothes from your closet and handed them over to you.

"Why the hell should I call these fuckers? They don't give a shit about me anyway."

You snap at the butler as you snatch your clothes from him and go inside your own bathroom.

It was silent as Alfred stood in front of your bathroom door with a concerned expression and a heavy heart. Then, he speaks up again.

"I tried to talk to them again today, especially to Master Bruce. But, I got no response from all of them. I really tried. I'm really sorry, miss (name)."

His words made the old butler pursed his lips as he let out a sigh. He feels guilty that he didn't try enough for your family to at least give you a glance. He's been doing this ever since you got neglected and tried every single day with no response.

That's when you open the bathroom door with you wearing the clothes that he gave you. A yellow sweatshirt and a black skirt.

"It's fine, just forget about it. I appreciate though."

You tell him as you look up at him.

"Sorry for snapping at you a second ago..."

You added as you put some of your hair strands behind your ear.

However, the butler only smiles as he kneels down to your height once again.

"I understand, miss (name). It's not your fault. None of this is."

He reassures you as he places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"Even though they might not pay attention to you that much, I will always be by your side."

He tells you that made you smile a little.

"Thanks, Alfred."

You mutter out.

"Also, let's keep me coming back home a secret, okay? I know that they won't care if they find out, but still."

You add with a chuckle that made the butler smile.

"Alright. But, I will advise you to go to bed now. It's a school night, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Meanwhile, unknowingly to you, someone was beside your bedroom door, listening in the conversation.

~~~~~

Since then, you've never felt so... free.

You became friends with those two girls from lunch, and more guys asked you out while you two timed them the same time, and some of the teachers were so easy to bribe off that you ended up skipping most of your classes. At least you were still passing.

You also stayed up at night to do stuff like going out, doing some more lame dates, and most of all, just chilled out.

As long Alfred kept quiet about all this, then none of this would have a problem. Not that you have too much to worry about.

Life is going so well for you.

For now.

~~~~~

When the first semester ended and winter break started, you had a packed schedule ahead. You're planning to go on dates for the next two weeks straight. It was going to be tough, especially hanging around with a bunch of weird guys, but hey, at least they're buying you things that you want.

As you entered your bedroom because you forgot your phone, you were suprised to see...

Bruce?

He was sitting on your bed and seemed to be deep in thought before he looked up to see you standing by in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?"

You ask as you walk into your room.

Bruce seems to be nervous before he lets out a sigh.

"(name)... we need to have a talk."

He said as he looked straight into your eyes which made you groan.

"Oh my god... Can we talk about this later? I have a date to go to."

You ask that made him a little frustrated.

"You're not going anywhere tonight, (name)."

He said that made you a little surprised.

"Why the hell not?"

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Since when did you address me that?"

"Not the point right now."

Bruce lets out a sigh before he looks down at you.

"Look, I... was told about your behavior for the past months and I took a look through your things to check up on what was going on. I... didn't know what you were going through. None of us did. We didn't know that this the reason why you're behaving like this at school and started hanging out with the wrong people."

He tells you as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, (name)... I really am. Even though you can't forgive me for what I did, I'll try my best to be the best father you've ever had. I told the others about this and they'll start behaving and treat you the way that you deserve."

You just stood there, as if you heard the biggest news of your life, except not in a good way. It's as if something hit you right in the gut.

"Oh, shit! Um... okay."

You mutter out as you just stare at your adopted father.

Sensing your tenses, Bruce decided to go into more detail. Which was not a good idea...

"Because of this, I decided that you should be around people who me and the others will find alright. Since I don't know who you're around, Damian will check who your friends and the people you date are. Also, the family wants you to be around them. Such as spending time with them and basically having fun. Something that you never got to experience."

Now, this. This felt like a nuclear bomb dropped into your head.

"Are you serious...? Like, are you actually fucking serious right now?"

You ask as your eye twitches a bit.

"You really thought I could just accept whatever shit that comes out of your mouth because you suddenly remember what you and those other fuckers treated me? Now, you want me to drop out of the life that I kinda enjoy? You sure are funny, are you?"

You said in a bitter tone before your lips curled into a snarl.

"I will never forget about the shit that I went through to please you and that shitty family that I was forced to be a part of."

You added as you walked to Bruce and got in his face before you spit out the next two words out of your mouth.

"Fuck you and your family."

With that, you stormed out of your bedroom as Bruce calls out for you.

~~~~~

Your mind was flooded with so much anger that you ended up forgetting about the three dates that you were supposed to go to today.

This wasn't the way you wanted to start your winter break.

You don't know why, but you stormed into the attic and sat down on the floor.

"Fuck!"

You yelled out as you panted slightly.

As you were panting, you looked down to finally notice a glittery diary in your hand. Since when did you get your hand on this?

You can't help but open the diary to find all the pages empty. It's not really a suprise then you never used it in your life. You don't even remember when you got this.

So, you looked around before your eyes landed on a random pen lying on the ground. Without thinking, you picked it up and opened the diary to the very first page.

With that, you started to write your 'entry'.

It's time to show the world of this game that you're forced to be in.

•

•

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15 @lilyalone @seraph101 @lain3iwakura @tacodeemon @whiterabbitxxx @yuyuzi-ling @lilithquillete @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @una1002289 @spacetravelr @luckyangelballoon @illytian @ghostdoodlen @imaginarydreams @flyingpansaurus @wrenbirde @kimzzz18 @ohnoivefallen @ferakillia @f1lover4ever @asahi20789 @livingforloves @moonieper @rosecentury @waitingforanarchicaddiction @missmannequin @mischiefmanaged124 @hanselate @doli09 @chocolatemoose26 @enjisthings @stitchtheseconde @purple-lemon-8 @milliu @blublock404

(If you want to be in the taglist, let me know!)

[megalony]

Danger Zone

This is a new Buddie imagine I had an idea for, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Buddie Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When Captain Gerrard takes charge of the 118, he targets each of the team. Specifically (Y/n), because she's pregnant. And his actions put her at risk.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tossing the clipboard down on the gurney, (Y/n) twisted on her heels and unlocked the medicine cabinet in the corner of the ambulance near the emergency door. Her fingertips grazed along each glass bottle, counting each one in every row and checking the labels to make sure they were in date.

Once they were all accounted for, she ticked them off on the check sheet and turned around.

That was the ambulance restocked and ready to go again. Not that it needed checking and restocking today after Evan had already done it yesterday, but (Y/n) needed to keep busy.

She had been told to 'make herself useful' and she knew what that meant. If Gerrard caught her doing nothing, even if she was just taking a break, he would have her for it. And (Y/n) couldn't be dealing with his fluctuating temper. She would rather appease him and keep him at bay than give him any reason to single her out.

"Diaz, you've shrunk."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s chest and her heart shuddered like a bird in a cage. She pinned the clipboard against her stomach and took a deep breath, glaring down at Hen who was leant up against the back door with her arms folded over her chest and a smirk playing on her lips.

"Pardon?" She raised a brow and looked down at Hen, waiting for the punchline of her joke.

For a dreaded moment when she heard her voice, (Y/n) thought it was Gerrard come to antagonise her for something.

"Your shirt says Diaz." Her shoulder slumped against the door a little more so she could cross one leg over the other while she pointed at the shirt (Y/n) was wearing. Not all of their uniforms had their names on the back, but some of them did. And right now, (Y/n) was wearing a shirt that said Diaz on the back, and that wasn't her name. Not yet, anyway.

"My stuff doesn't fit me anymore." (Y/n) tilted her head down, trying to hide the smile that was desperate to spread across her lips. She couldn't afford to be smiling and looking cheesy in case their Captain happened to pass by.

She set the clipboard down on the gurney and moved her hand to indicate her stomach. Not a lot of her clothing fit now she had a baby bump in the way.

The first few months had been fine, (Y/n) only had to disclose the pregnancy to Bobby- while he had been in charge of the station. No one else knew until she started to hang back on the larger calls and Bobby started giving her different orders like telling her to hang back at the truck or go and assist as a medic. Then when her stomach started to go round, it was an easy giveaway.

Being four and then five months pregnant was okay, (Y/n) had still managed to fit into her work clothes no problem. But now, being just over six months, (Y/n) couldn't stretch her shirts anymore without ripping them. They wouldn't go over her bump or tuck into her trousers anymore, and she'd had to go up a size or two in trousers so the buttons actually did up.

It was a change that both Eddie and Evan loved, but one that made (Y/n) self-conscious around their new Captain.

Gerrard liked to single (Y/n) out. He made jibes because she was pregnant, he tried to test her and see how far he could push her on the job.

All of them thought he would treat (Y/n) the way he treat Chimney when he first joined the station. They thought he would confine her to the station and change her job role to cleaner, she had been prepared to be stuck inside, mopping the floors, cleaning out the trucks and restocking the cupboards.

No one had expected him to keep (Y/n) on all of their callouts. He barely played things by the book, he got her on every call out and got her handling equipment and the truck or the ambulance. Gerrard kept things just on the line of the rules so he couldn't be reprimanded, he pushed (Y/n) as far as he could because he knew she wouldn't back down.

(Y/n) couldn't say no and have him call her weak or tell her she should be on maternity leave if she 'wasn't going to do any work around here'.

"No kidding," Hen muttered with a smile that made (Y/n) feel at ease.

She grabbed the door and carefully climbed down so she could follow Hen across the station floor, unsure where they were actually going. There hadn't been a callout in almost two hours, which left everyone pondering around, wondering what they were supposed to do with themselves.

(Y/n) had started to feel useless at the station while Bobby was in charge because he didn't let her assist on a lot of calls, for safety. But now with Gerrard here, (Y/n) felt like she was at her wits end, she was wearing herself thin and it was draining the patience both Evan and Eddie had.

Both men could see the toll the job was taking on (Y/n) and they were starting to worry about her.

"So, how's you and the little guy doing?" Hen aimed towards the stairs and when she pointed to the kitchen, (Y/n) nodded. It was almost lunchtime and there was nothing else for them to be doing. While they had the time, they may as well see if they could get something to eat with the team before the bell sounded and they were all off again.

(Y/n) moved her hand down to her stomach, rubbing circles over her shirt as she smiled softly. "We're good, I think he's asleep right now. We've got another scan next week."

"Hm, I think Buck may have mentioned that once or twice." Hen bit back a laugh when (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

Evan told everyone whenever they were going for a scan. He and Eddie both tried to be there for all of (Y/n)'s appointments if they could and of course, he told people when they were going for one. He was always telling Maddie first though because she loved to see and have a copy of the scan photos.

He took pleasure in telling his parents just to see the way his mother looked drastically ill at the thought of her first grandchild having three parents rather than the conventional mum and dad.

Eddie's parents were still taking time to adjust to Eddie's relationship, but they couldn't be as cold or uncaring as they first felt because they both had a soft spot for Evan and (Y/n). And they knew that Eddie and Chris were happier than they had ever been so it was hard to dispute.

(Y/n) aimed for the table and took her usual seat while Hen went to grab a drink from the fridge. Both of them clocked Evan in the kitchen, moving from one counter to the next, first with a dish in his hand, and then with a wooden spoon, and then with a tea towel tossed over his shoulder.

Without Bobby here, Evan had silently taken over with the cooking. It just seemed to make sense. He loved cooking, it was something he enjoyed and took his mind off of the crude, callous Captain they now found themselves with. And everyone loved his cooking. They all let him get on with it. The only person who was grumpy about Evan's food was Gerrard because he couldn't find anything wrong with it no matter how hard he tried.

"Hey mi amor,"

A grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips and she tilted her head back, slouching down in her seat when she felt a familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

"Hi." She reached up to give Eddie's hand a squeeze and her chest fluttered when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Clearly Gerrard wasn't around if Eddie was dolling out the affection. The three of them had to be careful when they were on shift together. If he caught them so much as standing too close to one another he either made a snide joke or tried to reprimand them and pull them up on being professional while on shift.

But when he wasn't around, kisses were shared in quiet corners and touches were shared behind closed doors.

The only times Gerrard couldn't say anything was when they sat together at lunch or in the fire truck. He couldn't say anything about proximity when they were all sat next to one another, on their best behaviour about being professional. And they took full advantage. In the back of the truck while Gerrard sat up front, he couldn't see or say anything about Eddie's hand wandering up and down Evan's thigh or Evan's hand on (Y/n)'s stomach or his lips against her temple.

Eddie took a quick glance towards the stairs before moving his lips further south and capturing (Y/n) in a quick kiss. He savoured the touch and relished in the feeling of her hand slithering up to cup his neck.

But his lips crinkled and his nose twitched when he swiped his tongue across her lips and was met with a familiar tang. Blood.

Eddie's eyes snapped open and he pulled back just enough so his lips were hovering an inch above hers so their breaths mingled together. His brows knitted together and his chest tightened when he saw the dark rouge colour running down her nose and across her lip.

"Mi amor, head forward for me." He gently gripped (Y/n)'s chin and tugged her head down, causing her to sit up straight and lean over when she realised what was happening. "Buck, paper towel please." Eddie clicked his fingers in Evan's direction until their partner looked their way.

A quiet "Shit," passed Evan's lips and he spun around, grabbing a wad of paper towels from the side before he headed over to the pair of them.

(Y/n) pressed her hands down on the tabletop, feeling Eddie's chest pressing down against her shoulders and his chin hovered near her neck so he could look over her shoulder. His hand stayed cupping her chin and he gratefully took the paper towels from Evan and held them against (Y/n)'s nose.

Nosebleeds had been (Y/n)'s enemy since she got pregnant, she seemed to have them frequently now, but they didn't last long.

The worst one she had was last month during the night. Evan woke up with (Y/n)'s head on his chest and a river of blood running across his skin. He thought for a dreaded minute that he was having some kind of accident like he was waking up from anaesthetic in the middle of an operation.

A headache started to roll in behind (Y/n)'s eyes and she swallowed down a groan, closing her eyes as she concentrated on breathing through her mouth. She kept her head tilted forward like she was going to headbutt the table. At least this one didn't feel heavy, she wasn't coughing blood everywhere like she had last time.

"Let's have a look, sweetheart." Evan slumped down into the seat next to (Y/n) and took the wad of tissue from Eddie's hand, dumping the bloodied tissue on the table.

He gently held (Y/n)'s chin and lifted her head up, a smile fluttering across his lips when he saw that the bleeding seemed to have stopped now.

"You good?"

"Yeah, sorry." She grabbed another paper towel and swiped it across her lips, trying to make sure all traces of burnt orange were clean from her face. The last thing she needed was a certain someone making a comment or telling her to go clean herself up.

Eddie kissed her hair and rubbed his hands up and down her arms but when he heard those thunderous boots hitting the stairs, he audibly growled. Just what they needed, Gerrard coming to make a scene.

"Buck, is this done?" Hen motioned to the tray of piping hot lasagne in front of her, both because she was hungry and to get Evan back to his cooking station. They didn't need to have another argument break out, they all argued almost every shift with Gerrard and it was doing them no good.

With pursed lips, Evan tried to smile. He gave (Y/n)'s chin a light squeeze and tilted her head in his direction so he could have a kiss. His fingers brushed across her cheek and when he pushed up, he paused midway to let Eddie lean over and snatch a kiss as well. He darted back to the kitchen just as Gerrard stomped up the stairs, his usual unimpressed look painted over his face.

His eyes set on Eddie immediately and he rose a brow, clearly disgruntled to see Eddie standing so close to one of his partners.

Gerrard didn't like different. He didn't like anything that challenged or differed from the old ways, the generic and safe boundaries of society. He didn't like Chimney for racial reasons. He didn't like Hen for homophobic reasons. He had a grudge against Evan for being in a poly relationship and finding out he wasn't part of the 'white boy' gang Gerrard used to have when he first came to the station ten years ago.

He didn't like Eddie both for his poly relationship and because of his heritage. He wasn't a fan of him being with two people, one of them being a man also hit like a bullet.

For the same reason, he didn't like (Y/n) for her relationship, for being a woman, and he liked to think of her as weak now she was pregnant.

They all had targets on their backs, but the three of them had bigger markers for Gerrard. He liked to rile them up and see how far he could go, he had more reasons to go against the three of them and being in charge of them gave him a power trip.

For once, Eddie didn't make a move to sit down. They had all agreed to stand up to Gerrard by catching him out. Whenever he made comments, they noted it down and sent a report. When he treated them unfairly, they documented it and then sent a copy to the chief. If he tried to be out of line with them, everyone made sure to drag the conversation somewhere public. As long as they had at least one witness, Gerrard had to watch what he said.

But Eddie wasn't in the mood to play nice right now. His hand stayed on (Y/n)'s shoulder and he stayed standing behind her chair with one leg crossed over the other and his other hand on his hip.

"Diaz," Gerrard nodded at him but when he went to approach the kitchen, presumably to try and take a jibe at Evan, he paused. His head turned to the left and he locked eyes on (Y/n), taking note of the paper towel in her hand and the scrunched up, bloodied pile on the table. "Jesus, not another one, or has there been a disagreement I didn't know about?"

He took a quick look around as if expecting to find someone with bloodied knuckles, indicating a fight had taken place. The quirked smile on his lips made Eddie shiver and had him ready to start a disagreement right here and now.

Before anyone could comment, the alarm bell sounded and dispatch came through the tanoid speakers.

Right when they were going to sit down to eat.

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the kitchen as everyone put down whatever they were doing and listened to the announcement to see what kind of call they were going on.

"Okay, you all know what to do, don't you?" Gerrard pointed his thumb over his shoulder and took a step back to watch them filter towards the stairs. He paid particular attention to Evan who frowned and planted both hands down on the counter while he listened to the dispatch describing the call.

"Uh, that's a high code building fire."

"Yes Buckley, it is." The sarcasm dripped from Gerrard's voice and he moved his hand, motioning for Evan to leave the kitchen and aim for the stairs. His tone caused Evan to roll his eyes and hunch up his shoulders, trying to draw in a deep breath to control himself.

"So (Y/n) shouldn't be going on this call." They all knew the rules. (Y/n) was on light duties. She couldn't go into a fire, not even if she was suited up and with her team. She couldn't assist on fires, on multi-car pile ups or any calls where there was a dispute with weapons involved.

She was a spare set of hands only. She helped as a medic or to get equipment set up or to direct people on scene. (Y/n) was effectively a shadow on a lot of calls but it was to keep her safe. She would be on maternity leave next month because after seven months it would be too dangerous to go on any call outs.

They had everything agreed and in place with Bobby. Why did Gerrard have to turn up and tip the scales?

(Y/n) took a deep breath and snook a glance up at Eddie behind her when his hand tightened on her shoulder. She didn't want to be an issue or cause problems. If Gerrard wanted her on this call she was happy to go, she would only be sorting the equipment and the hose and looking after the casualties anyway, she wouldn't be suiting up for the fire.

She pushed up from her seat, scrunching up the used tissues to throw in the bin. The moment Eddie's touch left her body, (Y/n) felt bare and unprotected and it made her conceal a shiver.

Passing Gerrard made her feel worse. She could feel his eyes scoping her up and down with a raised brow. His nose crinkled and his upper lip curled in distaste as he looked at her like she was a nuisance he didn't want around.

"Are you in charge now, Buckley?" When Evan didn't answer, Gerrard looked at (Y/n). "You're part of this team, that means you pull your weight. You can handle doing your job, can't you?"

Something snappy and sarcastic was on the tip of (Y/n)'s tongue, but she pushed it away like a foul taste in her mouth and settled for nodding her head, muttering a quiet "Of course," under her breath.

"See."

"Isn't it your job to oversee everyone's safety? She's on light duties-"

"She can do the job as background support. I oversee the smooth running of this place and I make sure my team pull their weight. If she doesn't mess up, she won't be in danger, will she?"

(Y/n) shuddered when Eddie kicked the chair under the table so harshly all four table legs scraped against the floor. She felt his hands on her waist and she forced her feet to move, hoping Eddie would follow after her and not stop to start a fight. They all needed to go get ready before one of them said something that would get them disciplined or suspended.

They could hear Evan throwing the tea towel across the counter and huffing as he made quick work of following after them.

They didn't give a damn about Gerrard or his orders. If he wanted the team to work, they would all continue to look out for each other. If (Y/n) couldn't do something, the boys would do it for her. They would 'pull her weight' in the team as it were and shield her behind them. They would do the job for her so Gerrard had no means to pick on her.

***

"I can't go in there." (Y/n) could feel the palm of her hands beginning to sweat as she looked up at her Captain who she had a growing distain for.

She didn't like standing up to him. She preferred the boys or Hen to point out when Gerrard was wrong and tell him the codes of conduct to prove that his actions weren't justified. They usually left that to Evan, his ADHD gave him a good memory for facts and visuals and he had all but memorised the handbook. He could pull out any rule, section or code to call Gerrard up on.

And right now, (Y/n) couldn't remember the specific codes, but she knew Gerrard was trying to break them.

"I'm telling you to suit up and get your ass into gear, (Y/l/n) we need to get this fire under control-"

"I can't go in there and if you order me to you're making me a liability on the team. Please." Her head started to shake and her hands ran up and down her overalls.

She was going to be sick. Her head was pounding. She was going to have another nosebleed.

If (Y/n) went into that building she was putting herself and her unborn baby at risk and she would become a liability because if she fell or tripped or went dizzy she would waste precious time. The team might have to spend more resources and effort to find her and help her out and she would become one of their casualties rather than one of the team.

(Y/n) wasn't supposed to be here, she shouldn't be on site of this building fire, it was a risky call and Bobby would have made her hang back at the station if he were in charge. Hen would of made the same call too. Gerrard was taking his leadership too far and breaking the boundaries.

She could see the rage bubbling up inside his eyes and his hands clenched into fists and for a moment, (Y/n) wondered if he was going to step forward and hit her. But then his finger pointed between her and the truck and his curved nose crinkled and twitched like a rabbit.

"You being on this team is a liability in itself." His words made her shoulders quake and she coiled in on herself, holding back tears. "Now suit up. If you won't go in the building, then you can man the hose from the doorway and get this fucking thing under control, or I will reprimand you. Understood?"

Her legs started to shake as she spun on her heels and stormed towards the truck.

Everything was shaking. Her heart was hammering against her chest. The baby was twisting and threatening to make her sick. Her fingertips turned numb and she could barely feel her hands when she reached out for her helmet and shrugged on her jacket.

Putting on her gloves made her hands feel like blocks of ice, unable to bend or move the way she wanted them to.

(Y/n) swallowed a few times to try and calm herself down and make sure she didn't throw up. That was the last thing she needed right now. She looped the hose over her shoulder and trudged towards the building.

Chimney and Eddie had gone up on the ladder to evacuate the top floor and put out the separate fires up there. Hen and Evan were inside the building with most of the 138 team to get it under control. (Y/n) was supposed to be on standby, getting things off the truck and helping as a relief medic when the patients started to filter out.

She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the building itself. This was dangerous, but as long as she wasn't going inside, (Y/n) would do what she could to help. She never worried about feeling useless on the job until Gerrard came in charge.

"Hose!"

She motioned the hose on her shoulder when she saw Hen hurrying out the doors, presumably for more resources like this.

A deep frown set into Hen's features when she saw how close (Y/n) was and (Y/n) realised it looked a lot like she was about to rush into the burning building as back up. That wasn't what she was doing. She wouldn't put herself and her baby at risk like that.

"What are you d-"

Whatever Hen tried to say drowned out when a blast shocked the foundations of the building. All the windows on the first floor burst. Gusts of air and billowing motions of smoke soured through the windows and out into the open air.

The surge and the backlash knocked everyone within a ten foot radius off their feet, including the girls.

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped closed and her hands tightened around the hose as if it would somehow work as a harness or a rope to hold her up and prevent a harsh fall. It didn't. The blast sent her backwards and took her feet from beneath her. She went down on the pavement with a thud and she was relieved she had her helmet on or the force would have knocked her out.

All the oxygen escaped her lungs and (Y/n) laid on her back, jaw hung down, lips murmuring as she tried to suck in a proper breath and get her chest working again.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)… you with me?"

She felt Hen kneeling beside her and it made (Y/n) wonder how long she had been laid there, gasping for air. Her eyes opened with some force and she blinked through the smoke that made it look like midnight rather than midday.

Hen's worried expression came into view and (Y/n) managed to nod and wrap her hands around Hen's arm that was stretched out in front of her. She let her friend reel her up into a sitting position and she took a minute to shake her head and gather her senses.

Just a little fall. A relatively small blast considering the structure was still standing and the building foundations hadn't been wrecked. (Y/n) hadn't even broken a bone.

When Evan got hit by lightning, the force had been so great that (Y/n) fell backwards and toppled off the truck. She dislocated her shoulder and broke a rib from that impact. This was nothing compared to that.

"I- I'm good."

Hen looked doubtful. She rose a brow and quirked her head to the side as if to say she didn't believe (Y/n). She reached out for (Y/n) and did a quick assessment, trying to gage whether she had any cuts, bruises or dreaded broken bones.

When Hen's gaze dropped down to (Y/n)'s stomach, she tilted her own head down and followed her gaze.

She hadn't landed on her stomach or her side, she had fallen straight on her back which was relatively lucky if (Y/n) had to fall at all. Her stomach hadn't been jostled, she felt okay and she could feel the baby wriggling too which was a good sign.

"Let me take a look at you." It sounded more like a question than a statement and (Y/n) found herself nodding along.

She felt okay, she had had a lot worse over the years and she had done more damage with harsher falls. But she had never been pregnant before and (Y/n) knew it would put both their minds at ease if Hen just gave her a once over. Just to be safe.

"Both of you, walk it off and get back in there." Gerrard pointed over at them before he grabbed the radio on his shoulder and presumably sent a snarky order out to someone else or to dispatch.

"I need to examine her-"

"Do you see her screaming in pain, Wilson? She's fine, get up and get back to work before this whole place goes under. Now!"

Twisting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Hen and tried her best to smile and hold back a flinch. She was fine, as long as she could get up with no obvious pains she would be okay to carry on.

(Y/n) gratefully accepted Hen's arm, smiling weakly when Hen took her weight and easily helped her up to her feet. She could feel her head starting to swim and float when she was up on her feet and her knees trembled but after a few seconds, her body started to level itself back out again. Just like hitting a reset button on a computer.

(Y/n) dusted her gloves across her jacket and over her knees, getting rid of the sprinkles of glass that dropped down on them like the first fall of snow. She was okay. She didn't even feel sick or any pain anywhere and when she danced her hand over her abdomen, she smiled. The baby was wriggling and kicking. He was fine too.

"Are you sure you're good? If not tell me and I'll-"

"No, no fussing, come on we've had worse." If the baby was moving and (Y/n) didn't have any pain except for a few twinges and bruises, she was good to go. They were in the middle of an emergency and Hen had a job to do, (Y/n) wasn't going to get in the way and distract her and provoke Gerrard's wrath.

"What the Hell are you doing?!"

A shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine and her eyes darted around, frantically trying to find where that voice came from. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened when she realised it was Evan calling out to her. If it was Gerrard again she would be in for a disciplinary talk, but knowing it was one of her partners only made (Y/n)'s worry spike.

Evan stormed over to them like a God walking amongst humans and the demanour glowing around him made him tower over the people he bypassed to get to them.

His clenched hands uncurled and reached out for (Y/n) the moment she was within reach. He gripped her upper arms, pulling her closer whilst simultaneously nudging her back so she was away from the building in case a secondary explosion rocked the street.

"Evan-"

"You shouldn't be anywhere near the fire-" Something dawned on him and flashed across his pupils before he was looking her over frantically. "Are you okay?"

"The blast knocked us off our feet-"

"But I'm okay." (Y/n) finished for Hen, looking between the pair of them before she gripped Evan's shoulders to try and get him to look back at her.

"Get back in the truck."

"Stop this mother's meeting and get your asses back to work I've already told you once. Top floors are evacuated and simmered down, we need that ground floor fire under control before the foundations are burned to cinders." Gerrard's voice barked like a rabid dog and his teeth flared and flashed in the glimmering sunlight trying to break through the smoke.

He pointed his hand towards the building before he clapped his hand and pointed someone nearby to turn on the hose on the truck. They needed this situation under control, standing chatting in the street wasn't going to help.

(Y/n) shivered when Evan's voice cut across the top of her ear, telling her again to get in the truck.

His hand found her lower back and he pointed her in the right direction. He didn't care if she sat in the truck or the ambulance. Hell, Evan didn't care if (Y/n) sat on the pavement or if she went and sat with some of the other medics and helped the casualties. He just needed her away from this building so her and their baby weren't in any danger.

He tried to get (Y/n) to walk over to the truck but he felt her shudder and back up into his chest when Gerrard looked directly at her. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The blazing fury in his eyes told them all if they didn't move right now, he was going to be spitting feathers and his next words wouldn't be pretty.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do. She didn't want to stand back and do nothing, but she couldn't go near the building until it was cleared and coded as safe. And she could feel Evan's hands on her arms, squeezing tightly before he nudged her to walk in the opposite direction.

Evan didn't want to, but he let go of (Y/n) once she took a few steps away. His body rattled in frustration, panic and an overload of adrenaline that was fueling his anger.

His fingers shook through his gloves as he reached down and grabbed the hose, tossing it over his right shoulder so he could get back to work.

"(Y/l/n) where the Hell are you going-"

"She's not going near that fire." Evan tilted his head back and kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not to spare one little glance towards the shorter man on his right who was grating on his last nerve.

"(Y/l/n) I gave you a direct order and you, Buckley, aren't in charge here. Get back to your original post."

The hose on Evan's shoulder slid down to the crook of his elbow and he turned sharply until he was face to face with Gerrard. His left hand reached out and gave him a rough shove in the shoulder while his nose crinkled and his jaw locked so tightly Evan thought his teeth were going to break.

"Your orders are bullshit."

"Think carefully about your next words."

"Your orders are bullshit and violate the handbook by putting a pregnant worker at risk. And by picking on her because she's pregnant, you're discriminating against her. She stays in the truck or I go and get a second opinion from Captain Truman, this is his callout, not yours."

Evan was begging for a fight. His shoulders tensed up and his head tilted back as he prayed, willed, hoped, for Gerrard to disagree with him. He wanted Gerrard to bite, to snap and shout and scream and show his true colours because then Evan had some leverage.

He could go over to the Captain of the 138 and ask for his orders and tell him there was a worker on this scene who was pregnant and in the line of duty. The 138 got to this callout first and it made their Captain the lead in this operation, he had the discretion and the control here.

Evan could see a vein throbbing in Gerrard's neck and he was quite sure that his new Captain was on the verge of combusting like a molecule. But he didn't. Gerrard didn't say anything. All he did was point towards the building, and Evan took that as his win.

He knew they would be having words when they got back to the station, but he was already formulating his defence and if that didn't work, Evan would be finding the number for Chief Simmons.

He wasn't going to stand for this any longer.

***

(Y/n) could feel her head beginning to swim as she leaned to the left until her burning temple was slumped against the window.

Her head was pounding. Her stomach was starting to ache and cramp and she was sure it was because they had skipped lunch and seeing Evan interact with Gerrard had put her on edge.

She felt Eddie's hand on her thigh and after a few seconds, she realised he was leaning down against her and his lips pressed into her temple.

Evan was sitting opposite them with a face like thunder. His jaw was grinding so much they could all hear the joint clicking back and forth. His hands were clenched into fists and pushing down onto his thighs, creating indents in his trousers. His knees were bent out to the sides and his back was straight against the seat while he stared out the window, not looking at any of them.

They all knew he and Gerrard were going to be having an argument when they rolled up at the station. Everyone was anticipating and dreading it. Hen was ready to call the Chief herself for back up. Chimney was ready to stop a fight from breaking out and debating whether or not to call Bobby to diffuse the situation.

And Eddie was waiting for anything. He was waiting for them to pull up at the station so he could tell Evan to go home. Go talk to Bobby. Talk to the Chief on his own, just avoid an argument at all costs. Arguing would only set Gerrard on the rest of them and if Evan spoke out of line, Gerrard would have his neck for it.

But Eddie couldn't help but worry about their girlfriend. She hadn't spoken since the fire had been put out and they were all cleared to head back to the station. She slumped in her seat in the truck and seemed to switch off completely and that wasn't like her.

Everyone jumped like they had been shocked when the truck started to reverse into the station.

They barely managed to fling their belts off before Gerrard was out the truck and his voice was compelling them forward.

"Everyone out. Now."

(Y/n) could see stars in front of her eyes when she tried to stand up. Her knees were shaking and her stomach felt like it was trying to drop down to her feet. And her back, oh her back right between her hips was aching with every throb of her heartbeat. She must have landed funny during the blast and taken a harsher landing than she thought.

She kept one hand on her stomach and used the other as leverage to slowly climb down from the truck.

"Alright, now everyone listen up."

Her limbs began to shake as she moved to stand in between her boys. Part of (Y/n)was desperate to run and hide. To hurry up to the kitchen or lock herself in the toilets to be away from Gerrard because this wasn't going to be good.

He was going to direct most of his anger towards her and Evan. He would give them all clean up duty, give them hard and pointless tasks, make them feel worthless. He was going to punish them for his own mistakes that he had made on purpose.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) looked down at her boots and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other. She curled her right hand around the back of Eddie's bicep and leaned into him while her other hand rested on her stomach, something she hated to do in front of Gerrard, but right now she didn't care.

She felt sick. The baby was twisting and kicking and there was a dull ache she couldn't ignore.

She silently prayed for the baby to stay still so she could concentrate, but it didn't help. All (Y/n) could focus on was the pain in her back, the unusual ache in her stomach and her heartbeat that was thumping throughout every inch of her skin.

"Now that was a shit-show out there and every one of you ought to be ashamed." Gerrard's voice boomed around the station and echoed back to him, but (Y/n) barely heard him over her pulse rushing through her ears.

Panic and terror clawed their way into (Y/n)'s heart when a rather strong pain tore through her abdomen. She pressed her palm down harder on her stomach and twisted herself to the right so she could press her forehead into Eddie's bicep. She didn't care if Gerrard noticed and called her out on being so close to one of her partners.

She didn't feel well.

His words continued to rocket through the air and send them all reeling and most of them either looked up at the roof beams or stared down at their shoes to avoid his horrid gaze.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths through her nose but her shoulders tensed up when another pain ignited in her stomach and she realised it was similar to a cramp.

Her knees bent forward and she pushed down like she was trying to squat, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was doing or if she was trying to sit down or not. She was just trying to make the pain go away. Her teeth sank down into her lower lip but it didn't stop a small sound from escaping and she tugged on Eddie's hand while her other arm bound into her bump, pushing down to relieve the pain.

"Oow," Her face meshed into Eddie's arm causing her tears to trickle down onto his arm and she felt his free hand quickly gripping her left arm to stop her from going down to the floor.

"Hey, hey what's wrong? What's happening?" Eddie's nails scratched into (Y/n)'s elbow to try and keep her upright and his eyes flitted from her to Evan who was quick to hold onto her hips.

"Oh for God's sake what's the problem now?" Gerrard's hands found his hips and his foot began to tap against the polished floor. "If you're gonna start this (Y/l/n) then go home-"

"She needs a doctor." Hen snapped defensively before she turned her back on him and moved to stand beside Eddie, looking over at her friend.

They weren't going to let him belittle (Y/n) right now when she was clearly in agony and something was wrong. When she had her frequent nosebleeds he taunted her and made her feel like a child. He made everyone afraid to speak out if they felt ill or if they had a problem, but (Y/n) especially. She didn't dare complain or say anything because Gerrard wanted any excuse to tell her she was weak and if she was pregnant then she shouldn't be here. But this was different.

Evan was sure he heard Gerrard mutter "I don't fucking believe this," under his breath but when the Captain stormed off towards the bench, Evan felt a little better. He knew Gerrard was going to stay and watch, waiting for his moment to strike and tell them off or try and bark out an order, but everyone would ignore him for the time being.

"Okay, let's sit you down, hm?"

(Y/n) kept her face meshed into Eddie's arm, trying to stifle her tears but she managed to nod. She felt him move round so he and Evan both had one of her arms each and they slowly lowered down to their knees with (Y/n) between them.

Once she was down on her knees, she leaned over and tried to bury her face against Evan's thighs. The compressing weight on her stomach made her feel a bit better, but a groan mixed with a whine burned at the back of her throat when Eddie carefully reeled her back up. He couldn't examine her like that.

"What hurts, baby what's wrong?" Evan gently cupped (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head back so she was looking up at him through tears.

"I- there, hurts there." She shakily moved Evan's hand from her arm to the lower side of her abdomen and her words set his heart rocketing in his chest.

He had been praying she wouldn't say something like that. He hoped she would have some sort of back pain or stomach ache, but not something to do with the baby. They couldn't have an issue now with the baby when everything had gone smoothly up to now.

"Let me look." Eddie's voice was soft and he glanced between both partners before he shuffled round so he was in front of (Y/n) with Evan pressed up on his right side.

He managed a weak smile when Hen grabbed a medic bag from the truck and placed it down beside him.

His hands shook as he reached out for (Y/n)'s stomach and started to prod around. He pressed the heel of his hand into various parts of her abdomen, trying to feel how the baby was laid and if he could feel anything out of place.

Part of him was hoping to feel a hernia because at least that wouldn't be an issue with the baby.

"Okay, let's check your BP."

He slid the strap up (Y/n)'s right arm that he placed over his thighs and clipped an oxygen pulse monitor on her index finger. He waited a few moments until the monitor beeped and his brow arched when he saw the numbers.

"Pulse and BP are high, I just wanna take a quick listen." Eddie's words confused (Y/n) until she watched him find a stethoscope in the bag and he softly lifted her shirt to reveal her abdomen to his eyes. "Baby's heartbeat is a bit low."

His words made (Y/n)'s shoulders quake and she leaned into Evan, unable to smother a sob.

She curled her left hand around Evan's arm, feeling his other hand cupping the back of her neck while she pressed her face into his shoulder as if trying to hide away would make her feel any better. Her right hand moved down to her stomach, pushing down to try and take away the cramps and she pushed up on her knees to lean more into Evan.

"No, no-" Eddie hooked the stethoscope around his neck before he reached out for (Y/n), grabbing her arms with alarming force. "Hen get the ambulance fired up. Baby, we need to take you down to the emergency room."

"W-why? Eddie, what's wrong?" (Y/n) didn't dare ask but she could see the panic in his eyes and the way he kept cracking his jaw and biting his lower lip. He was trying to put on his calm face, his medic mode to stop her and Evan from panicking, but it wasn't working.

They both watched Eddie's eyes dart down (Y/n)'s body before he held her gaze again. "You're bleeding and the baby's heartbeat is low, you need a scan."

Evan's fingers punctured into the back of (Y/n)'s neck and his chin perched on her shoulder so he could look down her back. Sure enough, he could see the blood patching into the back of her trousers and inner thighs. Blood loss and a low heartbeat meant there was some sort of internal problem, something wrong with the baby. They needed to get a scan to see what was going on and sort this before any lasting damage occurred.

Leaning over, Eddie held (Y/n)'s upper arms and went to try and help her up, but he stopped and looked over his right shoulder when he saw who (Y/n) was staring at.

She had locked eyes with Hen who wasn't moving towards the ambulance. Eddie told her they needed to go, either she or Chimney needed to drive the ambulance. Why weren't they moving?

"The blast, from the building fire today… we- we got knocked down." Hen looked between (Y/n) and the boys, guilt, panic and fear swirling in her pupils that looked like black holes.

"You fell?"

"I- it was only a tumble, I didn't- I felt fine-" (Y/n) clutched Evan's arms tighter, meshing her cheek into his shoulder as tears drenched her face.

Was this her fault? Had something happened because of the fall? She had felt fine, it wasn't even a proper fall, she just got knocked down on her back. That was it. She got up and dusted down and felt normal save for a few bruises, she didn't land on her stomach or bash her side or anything that would suggest there might be damage to the baby.

A sob bubbled past her lips while Evan tilted his head down to kiss the top of her head, carding his fingers through her hair to try and calm her down. This wasn't her fault.

"He didn't let me assess her." Hen turned on her heels and jogged towards the ambulance before she said something she shouldn't.

She should have insisted. She should have checked (Y/n) over anyway even if Gerrard told them both not to. She should have sent (Y/n) over to the paramedics on site and made sure she got checked, they might have picked something up or in the very least told (Y/n) to go down to the emergency room to be safe.

Anger seeped through every inch of Eddie's body but he forced himself to look down at (Y/n). If he looked over at his Captain he was going to lose control and start a fight that would get him suspended.

"Buck, up. It might be a placental abruption, we need to go."

Nodding, Evan slid his hands down to (Y/n)'s waist and looped his arms tightly around her. He let her shuffle further into his chest with her arms around his neck and with Eddie's hands on her hips, they both slowly pulled her up to her feet, sandwiching her between them. They could feel how badly (Y/n) was shaking and it was clear she wasn't going to be able to walk very far in this state.

They made an odd shuffle towards the ambulance but Evan's head snapped up to lock eyes with Gerrard when the Captain spoke.

"Wilson drives, Diaz goes. I'm not having my whole team disappear on this field trip. Han, Buckley, fall back."

That was a punishment. That was because Evan had spoken out against him earlier and pulled the rule book on him. This was Gerrard trying to get payback and his way of insulting them because he didn't understand their relationship. If Bobby was here he wouldn't hesitate to find cover for the remaining shift and let all of them go down to the hospital.

"You fucking caused this! We're taking her to hospital-"

"If you go there will be a record of action on your file and I can suspend you for your disobedience today Buckley."

Again, that wasn't fair and that was a punishment Gerrard couldn't enforce. Evan knew the rules. It was a record of conversation first and he couldn't be suspended on the spot without talking to the Chief, especially if Gerrard didn't have any backing or reasoning beforehand.

"After what you've done? I'm calling the union rep and the Chief from the hospital. We'll see who's ass gets fired for this." Eddie locked eyes with Gerrard for the longest moment before he turned away to face his partners again. Gerrard had put (Y/n) and their baby at risk, he wasn't getting away with this.

They all heard Chimney holler "All in," while he opened the back doors to the ambulance and it was clear what he was saying. They were all taking (Y/n) to the hospital. He wasn't waiting here for news, he was riding shotgun and taking one of his family to see a doctor. Hen wouldn't be coming back on shift until she knew if (Y/n) was alright or not. And the boys were staying with their girl.

(Y/n) managed to lift her head from Evan's arm to look between him and Eddie. She could see the thunder on their faces and the way Eddie's lips were snarling while Evan's lips were pursed and tense. But they both softened when they looked down at her.

Evan's arms squeezed around her and Eddie kissed the back of her head was they carefully eased her up into the ambulance.

They were going to look after her. And they were going to make Gerrard pay for what he'd done to them all.

[rileyslibrary]

Lift and learn.

Synopsis: You discover Ghost’s unique skill; estimating the weight of items just by lifting them. You decide to challenge his ability by giving him little tests and he (for once in his life) loves to show off.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,381 (approx. 5-6 minutes reading time.)

Notes:

Mindless, platonic fluff with minimal plot.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The storage room is vast and poorly lit, with rows of metal shelves stretching into the distance. The air conditioning blows cool air throughout the facility, with only the gentle hum of the units and refrigerators breaking the silence. You and Ghost stand at the entrance, surveying the endless supply of crates and boxes ahead of you.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” you remark, kicking a nearby stack of boxes.

Ghost nods. “Come on,” he says as he walks between the shelves, “the faster we start, the faster we’ll be done with it.”

You follow him, walking down the first row of shelves, scanning the labels on the boxes and crates to see what they contain.

He checks the list you made with the food you’ll need for the mission, and he points toward the direction of the canned goods.

“Go look for the soup,” he advises, “and don’t lift the crate yourself.”

You turn to face him. “Why not, sir?”

“That thing weighs about 20 kgs,” he says, “you won’t be able to lift it alone.”

“Is that so?” you raise your brows. Ghost lets out a long sigh.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, soldier—I just know the box is too heavy to be lifted from up high,” he says. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and you don’t want to clean tomato soup off the floors now, do you?”

You roll your eyes and walk over to the box in question. You turn to glance at Ghost out of the corner of your eye—he’s ticking things off the list. You decide to give it a shot. You take a deep breath and grasp the box by its handles, attempting to pull it off the shelf. Your arms strain as you put all your weight into it, but the crate doesn’t budge. You try again, but it’s in vain.

Just as you’re about to give up, Ghost appears at your side.

“Told ya; it’s a heavy box,” he says, amused.

You step back, allowing him to take your place. He grips the box and lifts it off the shelf.

“That’s over 20 kgs.” He comments as he curls the box. “Around 24 kgs, I’d say.”

You stare at the box as it moves up and down, then at him. He approaches the large food scale and places the box on it. As he predicted, the box weights precisely the amount he estimated.

“Do you do this a lot?” you ask.

“No,” he says, chuckling, “I normally curl barbells.”

“Estimating the weight of something just by lifting it?” you clarify, “I saw you do it before when we were packing stuff from the armoury.”

“Ah,” he says, flicking his wrist, “it’s nothing.”

He surely doesn’t act like “it’s nothing.” He’s trying to portray himself as humble. But he looks far too cocky about it. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his waist. His head tilts a little higher, and he squints his eyes, resulting in narrow creases at their corners. There’s also a slight stiffness in his upper body muscles. Is he flexing? Yes. Yes, he’s desperate to show off his skill once more. And, of course, you don’t waste the opportunity.

You gesture to a massive stalk of bananas. “How much does that weigh?” You ask.

He walks towards the bananas, his hands still on his hips. “Ah,” he says as he lifts the stalk, “this should weigh around 1.3 kgs.” He states and places the bananas on the scale. He waits for the scale to flash and then turns to face you when it indicates just a little over the amount he predicted.

“Wow, Lieutenant!” You yell and clap your hands together. “Do it again!”

He takes a sharp breath from his nose and gestures with his hands. “Give me something more difficult this time.” he says with pride.

You look around the storage room and spot a pile of sandbags in the corner.

“Okay, how much does one of those weigh?” you ask.

He redirects his gaze to the sandbags. He shrugs. “30 kgs.” He says.

“That doesn’t count, Lt.,” you frown, “you didn’t even lift them.”

“I don’t have to lift them, Y/N; we fill sandbags to exactly 30 kgs each.” He explains and turns to look at you with a you-should-have-knew-that expression.

You decide to step up your game.

“Okay, Lt., what about me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.

He raises his index finger at you. “I’m not lifting you.” He states.

“Why not?” You ask, and he goes on to explain how it put him in trouble on a deployment about a decade ago. “Bananas, don’t get offended when you estimate them to be a few grams heavier.” He explains. You promise him you won’t be insulted, and he brings his right hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks to stop you.

“O’ay,” you mutter through your pinched lips, and he lets you go. “See this cardboard box over there?” You ask, and he turns to look in the direction of a big, beige-coloured box on the ground. It’s taped shut and sealed with no hint or label of what it might contain.

“Can you estimate its weight without looking what’s inside the box?” you ask.

He gives a short chuckle and mutters something like “if I can, she asks” under his breath before walking to the box. He tilts his head, trying to estimate its weight by looking at it. He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles, readying himself for what he’s about to do. He gathers his cargo pants from his thighs, and lowers himself to the ground in a deadlift position, grabbing the box by the handles. He takes a deep breath and pulls the box up with all his might.

But the box turns out to be lighter than you both anticipated, making Ghost lose his balance. He stumbles backwards, his arms flapping as he tries to regain control of his body. In his panic, he forgets to let go of the box which seems to defy gravity, and it flies through the air, driven by the momentum of his fall.

“Lt.!” you yell as you hurry to him, kneeling on the floor, “are you okay, sir?”

He stares at the floor, then at you, then back at the ground. You grab his arm to pull him up, but his ego is too bruised to allow you to do that to him. He gets up on his own and dusts his trousers.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologise, “I had no idea.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest—he looks defensive. “Neither of us knew, soldier,” he says, trying to reassure you, and walks towards the box.

“Huh,” he says as he lifts its flaps. “I fell backwards by a rocket explosion before,” he recalls, “but never by a cardboard box filled with sanitary pads.”

You giggle, and he shakes his head. He picks one of the packages and shows it to you. “Will you need a couple of these during our mission?” He asks.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, lowering your eyes to the ground.

He picks up two packs and puts one of them under his arm. “No shame in that, soldier,” he comforts you and shakes the other pack, “these babies almost broke my hip about a minute ago.”

You smile in response—at least he can make a joke out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You’re impressive, Lt.,” you comment, “a walking and breathing human scale.”

“Eh,” he shrugs as he crosses the final items off the list, “it helps with missions and loading up the trucks.”

“Now,” you continue, looking at the boxes you’ve collected for the mission, “how about we fill up the truck before one of us gets hurt in this warzone of a storage unit?”

He lets out a laugh. “Yes, let’s get outta here,” he agrees, “I don’t want to get jumped by a bunch of Kleenex.”

———————————————————————

[pinknatural]

After googling “what to take to a stranger’s birthday party” and reading the top five articles thoroughly, the first two more than once, Castiel has determined that he should either bring candles, wine, or baked goods. 

A candle seems like a good, safe option, but the Walmart candle aisle is overwhelming. How is he supposed to know if Anna’s-friend-Dean likes oaky, woodsy smells versus lavender-linen smells? Castiel likes the one that smells like a waxy apple pie, but who’s to say that opinion is shared? What if he prefers pine, or something called Deep Twilight Mist? Castiel removes the lid for Deep Twilight Mist and smells the cream-colored wax curiously. It smells like the perfume Hael used to spray everywhere when she was eleven. He puts it back on the shelf. 

There’s a candle that smells like cupcakes. It is a birthday party, so perhaps he would like that. Castiel puts it in the blue plastic basket dangling from his arm, then puts it back on the shelf, tilting it so the label is facing perfectly outward. Maybe Anna’s-friend-Dean doesn’t like candles at all. 

Wine. Everyone likes wine. Well, unless Anna’s-friend-Dean is one of those guys who thinks wine is too feminine. Or if he doesn’t drink at all. Or if he drinks too much. Or, perhaps even worse, if he’s some kind of wine connoisseur and will mock Castiel for buying reasonably-priced wine from Walmart and then blacklist Castiel so thoroughly that he will never find a friend in this town. 

Wine and candles are too complex. But everyone likes baked goods. 

Castiel is stopped in the middle of the road, turn signal blinking to indicate that he would like to turn left into his apartment complex, when he realizes that Anna’s-friend-Dean could be diabetic. But the party is at a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers, so probably not. Hopefully not. All Castiel has to do is successfully implement chocolate chip cookies and then melt into the walls at the party. Be pleasant enough company that next time someone has a large event they allow Anna to invite him again. Go to enough social functions that he can claim to have friends and get Anna off his back. Live quietly, working at the Gas-N-Sip and writing papers about the science of Theology and perhaps even going to the library and reading secular fiction.

Castiel has no expectations of finding actual friendship at Anna’s-friend-Dean’s birthday party. Or ever, really. If he ever gets lonely, he can get a cat.

Anna thinks that Castiel and Dean will get along very well. Castiel thinks that living outside of their mother’s influence has made Anna believe in fairytales. Anna has known Castiel his entire life. She knows full well that he has never gotten along very well with anyone. 

Castiel cracks an egg over the batter. Maybe this whole baking thing will impress Anna so much that she’ll stop bothering him about making friends. 

Who knows, maybe these cookies will unlock something else to add to Castiel’s quiet life. He quite likes the idea of baking.

--

The firefighter is very beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, besides models on the sides of buildings who look so perfect they’re fake.

“You the guy who started the fire?” the beautiful firefighter asks. He puts his hands in his pockets. Castiel’s cheeks burn. Not from any fire. 

“They were just burnt cookies,” he says. “I didn’t know they would set off the smoke alarm.” In the entire building. The other firefighters are by the doors, writing things down, talking to other residents of Castiel’s building. How come the beautiful firefighter was the one who had to talk to Castiel? He sneaks a peek at the man’s arms, but they’re sadly covered by his coat. 

“You burned the cookies on purpose, then?” the firefighter raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Castiel says. The firefighter has green eyes and freckles splashed across his nose. Castiel wants him to take off his helmet so he can see what his hair looks like. 

“Right,” the firefighter says. 

“Am I in trouble?” Castiel asks. 

“No,” the firefighter says. He winks. Castiel feels his heart literally skip a beat. “Not a crime to burn cookies. Losing out on the cookies is punishment enough.”

“They weren’t for me,” Castiel says. “They were for a birthday party. Tonight.” For some reason, he wants the firefighter to know that he has a social life. Never mind if the social life was enforced upon him by his older sister.

“A birthday party? Today? Who’s hosting? I gotta fight for my honor.”

Castiel is baffled. What honor? What fight?

“What?”

“Everyone will come,” the firefighter says. He makes a pose, as if he’s flexing. “To see me and this other guy fight to see who’s the Supreme Birthday Boy.” He stretches one arm out, pointing it to the sky, then he opens his fist. “Pow! It’ll be me, of course.” He turns to look back at Castiel. His mouth is very pink. Castiel wishes he understood what words were coming out of it. 

“It’s my birthday, too,” the firefighter says after a moment, when Castiel doesn’t react.

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I dunno. Trying to be funny, I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel says again. Behind the firefighter, he sees that the other residents of his apartment building are filing back inside. For some reason, despite the January chill, Castiel doesn’t want to go back in. Not yet. 

“You know, usually this is the part where people say happy birthday,” the firefighter says. 

“Happy birthday,” Castiel repeats. 

“Thanks!” the firefighter beams. “So do you think I should crash your friend’s party tonight?”

“No,” Castiel says, alarmed at the thought. A firefighter, and probably a bunch of other firefighters, crashing Castiel’s opportunity to stand beside the wall, holding a cup of sprite? When Castiel shows up with store-bought baked goods? And this beautiful firefighter will point right at him and say that Castiel invited them and then Anna’s-friend-Dean will hate him forever, and probably Anna will too? “Also, he’s not my friend.”

“He’s not? Then why are you going to his party?”

“He’s my sister’s friend,” Castiel explains. “I’ve never met him. She thinks I need to leave the house more.” Too late, Castiel remembers that he was supposed to pretend he had a flourishing social life. Oops. 

“Wait,” the firefighter says. His eyes sparkle. “Are you Anna’s brother? Cas-something?”

“Castiel,” he says, with the patience of someone who has had to explain his name a million times. He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”

“Dude,” the firefighter says, laughing. “I’m Dean.”

Anna’s-friend-Dean is a beautiful firefighter, with green eyes and freckles? Anna’s-friend-Dean is the Supreme Birthday Boy? Anna’s-friend-Dean probably has very muscular arms, under his uniform?

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” the firefighter says. 

“Winchester! Wrap it up!” one of the firemen calls from the truck. Castiel realizes that all the firefighters are about to leave, and everyone from his building is already back inside. When did that happen?

“Be there in a minute!” Dean hollers over his shoulder. When he looks back at Castiel, he grins almost shyly. “You were gonna make me cookies?”

“Yes, I--I thought it would be an appropriate thing to bring.” Castiel wonders again if Dean could be diabetic. Or perhaps allergic to something in chocolate chip cookies. Are chocolate chips made in a peanut-free facility? Maybe Castiel should’ve bought wine, after all.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says. “Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was dead-fuckin’-on. But, uh.”

“But?” Castiel is sure, suddenly, that Dean is about to reject him and tell him not to come to his birthday party after all. Which would be a shame, because all of a sudden Castiel wanted to go.

“My favorite dessert is pie,” Dean says like a confession. 

“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes widening. Maybe he can swing by the bakery--maybe he can look up a bakery, and then swing by it--on the way to the party. Assuming he’s still going. 

“And, uh, not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean one. I actually made myself a birthday pie, and I was gonna eat it alone, but maybe…I mean…”

“Yes?” Castiel asks. Dean is slightly taller than him, so he tilts his head back to meet his eyes. Dean swallows. Castiel watches his adam’s apple bob.

“Well, I could swing by after my shift is done,” Dean says. “Bring it with me. We could share. Before we go to the Roadhouse, I mean. If you want.”

“I want,” Castiel says before he can think about it. He snaps his mouth shut. Dean brightens. 

“Great,” he says. “I’ll be back. After my shift.”

“When does it end?” Castiel asks. Dean looks at his watch. He grins at Castiel, tongue poking between his teeth.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. 

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I will you soon, then.”

“Yep,” Dean says. “Gimme about an hour, okay? And then we’ll have pie.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says. Dean turns to head back to the firetruck. “What kind of pie?” Cas calls after him. Dean turns. 

“Apple!” he calls. Castiel stands outside, in the January chill without his coat, for a long while after the truck leaves. What a strange man, making his own birthday pie. What a lovely man, sharing it with a stranger. Supreme Birthday Boy, indeed.

--

When Dean returns, in a soft flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing his magnificent forearms, his hair a spiky mess that Castiel wants to run his fingers through, he has, as promised, an apple pie. And Castiel has a present for him. 

When Dean opens it, he laughs until he almost cries. He lights it right away, and the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate chip cookies is chased away by the apple pie candle from Walmart, a bright, steady little flame flickering between them.

(ao3)

[bits-and-babs]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐨𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K]

Summary: Ellie steals one of Bills magazines and you and Joel decide to see what the fuss is about.

Word Count: 3k

CW: Possible spoilers for episode 3, but I haven’t seen it! Based on the game. Heavily inspired by my bestie @foxilayde. A much lighter fic than the last few, a little bit of dry comedy, a little bit of playful Joel, but also a little bashful. Consumption of porn magazine, companions to lovers(?), p in v sex, fingering. Not proof read.

Tease: “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna c** for me?”

“N-Now Ellie, that ain’t for kids-“

“Woaaah!” Ellie had exclaimed, holding up the magazine rustling in her hand by her fingertips, her arm outstretched to take in the whole double page, “How- How the hell would he even walk around with that thing?!”

That had piqued your interest, eyes snapping up to the rearview mirror. Ellie was giggling, grinning from ear to ear as Joel turned in his seat to snatch the paper emblazoned with PLAYGIRL in red lettering from her hand.

“Would you jus’-“

“Hold your horses!” Ellie had insisted, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about!”

You hadn’t said anything at the time, chuckling at the way Joel’s cheeks flushed as Ellie asked all kinds of inappropriate questions. It was only when she discarded the pornographic magazine on the floor of the truck at the end of her smutty inquisition and fell asleep on the back seat upon Joel’s insistence that you made a note of where she had dropped it in the footwell.

Joel, having stopped to rest, slept in the front seat. His head tilted forwards; a gentle snore indicated he was out cold. With some courage and a little luck, you managed to grab the magazine without waking either of the sleeping duo and exit the truck.

Settling back in the bed of the pickup truck now and minding how uncomfortable it was to lean against the metal, you set a flashlight against the floor, open up the worn pages of the filthy magazine and chew nervously on your lower lip.

Of course, you weren’t to judge Bill for his sexuality. You never had before the outbreak, and there certainly wasn’t any point in being a bigot when the world had ended. In fact, thumbing through each crinkled page, you can’t help but thank Bill for his impressive collection of smutty male pages.

Each page had a collection of pictures and articles on everything from the ‘best sex positions for your zodiac signs’ to ‘average penis size of men around the world’. Clearly photographed in the 80s, based on the moustaches alone, each man photographed in a multitude of poses was muscular, slathered in oil, and donning the tiniest speedos while exhibiting the most prominent bulges beneath the aquablade fabric.

Ellie was right, how do they walk around with those things?

One, in particular, caught your eye; the sunset-orange speedos sat snug against the globes of his ass. The muscles in his back were defined, rippling with each of his poses. They were so clear beneath his golden tan you could probably label each picture like an anatomy textbook. He was pretty, and he made your face warm up.

“That your type?” A gruff, rumbling voice makes your body jolt in shock, inhaling a petrified gasp.

Joel had stepped out of the truck while you were distracted by the glutes and pectorals of the gorgeous male models, catching you off guard as he walked up behind you. He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps straining the sleeves of his denim shirt.

“Mhm- N-No! No, I was just reading about how standard American men have a less-than-average dick length,” you lie smoothly to cover up being caught red-handed, using some of the data you had read a few pages back. “What about yours? Is your moody personality compensating for something?”

“You ain’t funny,” he answers flatly, refusing to rise to your childish jabs as he climbs up into the truck bed with you. You catch a glimpse of the pistol buried in the waistband of his jeans, and your pulse races faster than it had with any of the round bums you’d seen in the pages.

“I’d say I’m hilarious. It’s the trauma of experiencing The End. It builds chara-cter,” you ramble, only stuttering when Joel manages to pry the glossy papers from your hands. His eyes scan over the page with a look of disinterest.

“But outta date, don’t you think?” He grumbles in that grumpy, man-child way he does that always has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He’s pointing at the very 80s-style porn staches.

“Dunno, wouldn’t exactly call your facial hair ‘trendy’,” you scoff, watching him flick to the page titled in bold capitals: EXCITING SEX TRICKS TO TRY!

It’s ridiculous. You’re both grown adults, and it’s not as though the two of you were born during the outbreak. You’d both been through high school, and no doubt had sexual partners before Cordyceps took hold of the world. However, the prospect of talking sex with Joel Miller was mortifying.

You can feel the heat creeping up your throat as his eyes scan the sections of information with such indifference that you’re almost sure that he’s bored. Perhaps he was. It wasn’t as though you had caught him taking some time to himself during your great journey.

Joel is so lost in the writing that you allow yourself a moment to take in the slope of his nose, the slant of his cupid's bow framed by his greying moustache. Beneath his creased, frowning brow, his long lashes surround the deep brown of his eyes as they flick back and forth across the page. He was a handsome man. Was there no one waiting for him back in the Boston QZ? He’d never sa-

“The fuck is guddlin’?” Joel speaks out, shocking you from your thoughts with a start. You blink slowly, probably looking really fucking stupid as you choke on the words stuck in your throat when Joel looks up at you with a quirked brow.

“I-“

“I mean, I know guddlin’ in a fishin’ sense,” he interrupts, pointing to the page and prodding it with the tip of his finger, “Not in a-… Not in this sense, though.”

“Does-… Does it not explain?” You ask him quietly, your mouth suddenly very dry. Joel gives a light shrug, his eyes wandering over the page in search of a definition.

“Oh- Here,” he points out. He takes a second to read, his tanned skin tinged with pink as the words sink in. “Uhm… It’s- Well, it’s-“

Poor Joel looks as though he’s seconds away from an aneurysm attempting to explain the bizarre sex act without actually saying it. You scoff, snatching up the crinkled magazine and reading over the asterisk in small print at the bottom of the information page.

‘To insert one's finger(s) into a woman's vagina to pleasure her digitally while simultaneously having penile-vaginal intercourse with her.’

You pause, your lips parting as you look at Joel with a weak laugh. He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes cast somewhere on the horizon in an attempt to avoid your own. He’s as embarrassed as you are, it seems, clearing his throat with a weak chuckle.

“Well,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the magazine, “Must’a been good for it to end up in that.”

You nod slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you glance down at the black and white print that appears to all blur together in embarrassment. “Mhm.”

You can feel your pulse between your thighs, your skin tingling beneath what you assume is Joel’s gaze. It’s crude, utterly filthy, but you can imagine the stretch, the feeling of his weapon-calloused fingertips coaxing your g-spot as he slowly sinks into you.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you close the magazine with a nervous laugh, discarding it with a half-hearted toss over the edge of the truck bed and onto the roadside. “Stupid shit anyway…”

Your aimless comment is met with silence, and you’re far too humiliated to face the notion of looking at Joel. You imagine he thinks you’re insane, having caught you reading and enjoying this filth.

“… Take it you ain’t tried that before?” Joel’s gruff voice cuts through the sound of the crickets in the surrounding grass, and you can’t help but laugh, simply shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

A delicate brush of skin against your ankle sparks something raw up your spine. You look at it quickly, seeing Joel’s fingertips tracing the rough circumference of the joint beneath them. Your skin prickles pleasantly, and you look up at your partner- your smuggling partner- through your lashes.

His expression is firm, but his eyes betray his outward calm display. They’re flickering between your lips and eyes, his exhale slow as he attempts to force out some words he appears afraid to put out into the atmosphere.

“Do you… Do you wanna try it?”

It’s haphazard, delivered clumsily, and so utterly unlike Joel. You can see the cringe in his expression when the sentence settles in the air, and your heart lurches when you see he’s sincere. That he wants you and that he’s letting you know after years of hiding it from you.

God, you don’t even give him another second to doubt himself. You’re scrambling into his lap, straddling it and pressing your mouth to his in a kiss that hurts more than it pleases, his teeth scraping your lower lip and your tongue tracing his own.

You can feel it through the thin, worn denim of his jeans, the jump of his cock when you settle your crotch down against the seam. His hands are vicious, grasping handfuls of your thighs, your ass, your hips. He could bruise the shape of his fingerprints into you, and you’d thank him, would beg him to put you through the pain again to brand you as his.

He groans out your name into your mouth, but it sounds more like a growl rattling in his chest. You’re fumbling in the low lighting with his belt buckle, the clinking of the clasp bringing you relief when you free Joel’s hips from their leather confines. It’s almost frantic, the pace you set as you try and fail, try and fail before you successfully pop the button of his jeans and yank them over his hips. There’s not enough time to rid him of them completely, so Joel settles with the waistband resting just above his knees.

“C’mere,” Joel husks, his lips brushing yours as he speaks and forces your cargo pants over your hips without even bothering to let down the zip. It hurts a little, smarts, but it sparks something desperate in you when you realise it’s pulled down your underwear too, leaving you exposed to his gropes.

One hand grasps the globe of your asscheek, giving a brutally harsh squeeze. The other sinks between your thighs. Joel’s groan of delight when he finds the insides of your thighs soaked causes your cunt to throb before he’s even touched it.

"Is that all me?" He asks you, his voice dipping to a deep, spine-shuddering hum. He sweeps the calloused pad of his index fingertip up the inside of your thigh and through your pussy lips. You can hear the wetness there when he notches against your clit, when he sinks the very tip of his fingers into your entrance. "That all me, or did you like the pornstache more than I realised?"

You usually would scoff in Joel's face, tell him to stop being so ridiculous and self-absorbed, but he's slowly circling your frayed bundle of nerves with his thumb, and your jaw is slack. You can't even think of a witty retort, just grasping feebly at the collar of his denim shirt.

"I'm gonna take what I want from that lack of response," he fills the silence for you, an infuriating smirk settling on his lips as he sinks his fingers inside of you.

The lack of resistance and eagerness from your cunt catches you both off guard, Joel groaning in delight as you take the length of his digits so easily. "Fuck~”

You whimper out Joel’s name, thighs trembling on either side of his lap as he coaxes his fingers towards him inside of you and wasting no time in finding the spot that would bring tears to your eyes.

“Ah,” he breathes, a smirk playing on his lips when he sees your torso crumple inwards as his touch brushes something electric inside you. “Ah- that’s it, ain’t it?”

It’s pathetic. You want to answer him, even sob out wordlessly as the wave of pleasure crashes through you at the delicate touch, but your words are stalled in your throat as Joel circles that sensitive wall inside you with his nimble fingers.

“C’mere,” he growls, seeing your expression contorted desperately and deciding he can’t wait much longer. One hand is still busy with building your orgasm, and his other clumsily pulls down his boxers and exposes his ruddy length.

Joel gives you barely a moment to absorb what it is you see, managing to process the pink tinge to the velvet skin of his cockhead and the smear of precum that glistens under the low lighting before he’s hoisting you over him, knees on either side of his hips.

It’s filthy and disgusting and raw, the way he uses his free hand to sweep his cock across your clit. It sparks something dangerous deep inside your abdomen, another wave of increasingly unmanageable bliss that wraps around your spinal cord and constricts your lungs. You barely choke out his name, your fist punching his shoulder as if to say, ‘stop teasing!’ before Joel sinks into your wet heat with a broken rasp of your name.

Tight. Everything is coiled up so tightly inside you as the width of Joel’s cock-head pushes past your entrance, your walls swallowing him and squeezing him as he sinks in slowly. Your fingernails are digging into his shoulders through his denim shirt, tears of bliss welling in your eyes as he fills you completely. All the while he continues to circle and poke and prod at your g-spot, simultaneously building up your orgasm and wrecking you.

“That’s it,” he husks, breathless as he helps you settle down to the hilt of his dick. He’s nudging your cervix, and you feel so impossibly full that your body is trembling around him, pushed to its absolute limit as your tears stream down your cheeks. They drip from your chin, leaving deeper wet stains across the faded blue of his shirt.

Then he’s shoving his hips upwards and into you, and it’s like you can’t hold onto him tight enough. You’re scrabbling for some kind of grip that can brace you against the simultaneous stimulation of his thrusts and his fingers circling something mind-numbingly raw inside you. The rusty parts of the van creak beneath the motion, and between your slurred curses and weak cries of his name, you’re trying to warn him to be quiet, not to wake Ellie.

You can barely manage to coax him on, eyes rolling back and forehead falling forward onto his shoulder as you give in entirely to the creeping orgasm that picks up your spine.

“C-Can feel you,” Joel stumbles over his own words and laughs, his cock twitching inside you as he continues to drag in and out of your abused pussy, “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna cum for me?”

You want to slap him. Want to make him walk to Pittsburgh with this cocky attitude, this cavalier facade that is so unlike his usual brusque persona. Instead, you’re keening for him, nodding your head against his collarbone and squeaking out your best impression of a ‘yes, Joel, please, please!’

Shit- it’s coming. You feel it racing through you before he even delivers his devastating blow. You think it can’t get any more intense, that it can’t feel any better than this, until he’s pushing his hips upwards and manoeuvres his hand to brush his thumb against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The print of his thumb doesn’t even make it a full rotation before your orgasm comes roaring forwards, slamming through your body to the point it’s almost painful in the best way. You’re quick to smother your scream of his name, biting down hard on the denim fabric at Joel’s throat and releasing the devastating shout of his name into the fibres between your teeth.

Poor Joel stumbles with how hard your body clamps down on him, his galloping thrusts reduced to sloppy stutters of his hips as a grating, pained groan rattles through his ribs beside your ear. Distantly, you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you until his cum is spilling down the sides of his cock.

“God-“ He chokes out, voice catching in his throat as you heave for breath. It’s not as though he has the energy to lift you from him, still buzzing. You’re somewhere else entirely, vision blurry and consciousness far outside the dermis walls of your body.

Slumped against Joel, you focus on breathing. How do you do it again? In and out… In and out. It’s embarrassing, the way he’s left you unsure of essential bodily functions. The ease with which he’s numbed your mind and body.

Ironically, though, he makes it easier to find your way back to yourself. His steady, albeit heavy, breathing ticks like a metronome, easing you down from the impossible high you’ve ascended beneath his touch. He smells like salty sweat, like mud that cakes his boots and the truck's tyres.

“You think maybe we should pick that magazine back up?” Joel mumbled into your hair, oddly quiet and almost shy despite the blunt delivery of the query.

Pausing, you glance up at him through your lashes and catch a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks. He’s staring down at the sidewalk next to the tyres, no doubt eyeing up the pages strewn across the cement flags.

“… Well,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “You never know what survival skills we might need. With your blueprints for Molotovs and upgrading weapons and my articles on ‘bizarre sex positions’, we’re bound to survive the apocalypse-“

“Alright, darlin’,” Joel attempts to speak you down from your amused ramblings, made awkward by the crudeness of the conversation once again.

“I mean, what the fuck is the ‘Pretzel Dip’?”

“Fuck if I know,” he admits with an air of chagrin.

“… You’re not much of a playboy, are you Miller?”

“Shut up and put your pants on.”

END

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina

[cece693]

We Belong Together (DARK! Steve Rogers x M! Reader)

Just something that came to mind and couldn't help but write it. Please tell me if you like this style of writing more or prefer my original one. Thanx for reading!

Summary: Dating Steve Rogers was more difficult than you'd imagined. He was a man riddled with insecurities and, unfortunately, this affected your relationship.

tags: dark Steve Rogers, manipulation, the Avengers are no help, toxic relationship, not Steve friendly, gaslighting, no happy ending and ambiguous ending

Your relationship with Steve was rocky, to say the least. And you know it sounded stupid because you're dating Captain America, the epitope of male perfection and respect, but you weren't dating him. You were dating Steve Rogers, the man who was always beaten to a pulp behind alleyways before the serum took over. The man who did everything to fit in, but was neglected due to his health problems and scrawny appearance. And in a way, you sympathized with Steve—he was still the boy seeking acceptance from everyone, and you, who he'd let into his heart after the whole Peggy fiasco, couldn't desert him. But there was a line between what you would label as love and obsession.

It would be fine if Steve wanted to spend each weekend lazing about in bed, arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let you even use the bathroom, but it was another story if he had your location turned on and was texting you hurtful messages implying infidelity. You'd let it pass one time, but when it became a routine, and Steve became more suffocating to be around, you realized you'd fucked up. No breakup was easy, but when you're doing it to Steve Rogers, a man who was known for his determination and unwillingness to change his mind, it would be near impossible.

With his job as a full-time Avenger, there was never a good time for you to sit down and talk to Steve. He was either tired or stressed, with the latter making you squeamish to even interact with. No Steve was pleasant to deal with, as of late, but a stressed Steve was walking into enemy ground. If the damage to the punching bags was any indication. However, it seems whatever God above favored you when your boyfriend announced he'd asked for a week off to spend it with you. His smile was genuine, but you noted the strange twinkle in his eyes when he casually noted that it would be your anniversary.

"Who knows what surprise I have in store for you." He said, but those words, said with so much innocence had you fretting. You hated to do it, but it seemed you'd be breaking up with him before his plan could come to fruition.

"Steve, about that..." You trailed off, looking away from him to gain courage, but found none. "I don't think we're working out. I want to break up." There, you said internally, just like ripping off a bandaid. You risked looking up at Steve and instantly regretted it. He had a look of silent fury and violence??? but then it washed over with indifference. You expected yelling, even begging, but silence stung more. "I'm sorry, but I..." How would you broach the topic of his toxicity without sounding like a total asshole?

"Is there someone else?" Steve interrupted, quite rudely. He tilted his head, mind racing with every person who'd ever interacted with you. Who had convoluted your mind into breaking up with him? If there was another man, Steve would make them regret their existence. Taking what wasn't theirs to begin with. "Is it Thomas? I knew he wasn't just a friend."

"No!" You shouted, hurt by the implication. Thomas was a co-worker who you befriended—he was like a brother to you, nothing more, nothing less. "This is part of the problem, Steve. You think I always cheat, making me feel stupid for overreacting to your jealousy when it's unhealthy as hell."

"But you always seem so close to everyone else." Your ex replied, his voice wavering between anger and insecurity. "How am I supposed to feel when I see you laughing and talking with Thomas like that?"

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. "How are you supposed to feel?! You're supposed to trust me, Steve! You're supposed to know that if I'm with you, it's because I chose you. But you keep pushing me away with all this suspicion. It's exhausting."

Steve clenched his fists, struggling to find the words. "I only act this way because I care about you, because I don't want to lose you. You know how much I love you. If I didn't care so much, I wouldn't be jealous." He knew it was a stupid reason, but Steve was desperate. He wouldn't lose you over something he had no control over. Didn't you know how handsome, pretty, and unique you truly were? Didn't you see the hungry stares people throw your way? It was Steve's duty as a boyfriend to show them you were taken; his completely.

"That's another thing, Steve! You alienating me from my friends and co-workers."

Steve's face twisted in frustration. "So, what? I should just sit back and let whomever get close to you?"

"I can't control everyone's actions, Steve! Don't try to guilt trip me into thinking your behavior is normal...it isn't. Your reaction just reaffirms my decision." Not wanting to face your ex any longer, you stood up from the table and headed to the door. After all, this was Steve's apartment, and as much as he tried to encourage you to move in, right now you were grateful you stood your ground. But not even before your hand touched the doorknob, Steve's whimpers sounded behind you.

Steve panicked seeing you near the door. You had to understand—he never meant to make you angry, he just loves you so much that perhaps his behavior did come off as overbearing. But this was for your own good, Steve thought, you were too naive, too trusting of people who would only take advantage of you. With tears in his eyes, Steve began to whimper and make himself look half his size. "I'm sorry. I'll change, I promise, but please don't leave me. I love you."

It irked Steve that you didn't face him, but when he saw you pause, his heart rejoiced. Just for it to quickly fall again when you did open the door and told him you couldn't do this anymore. Unable to do anything as you finally closed the door, leaving him alone, Steve's anger made an appearance. Grabbing the closest thing to him, he flung it to the wall and continued to do so until every single item in his living room lay in thousands of tiny little pieces.

You're acting irrationally, Steve told himself. You'll soon come to realize the grave mistake you are making. I'm the only one who could protect and love you. I'll give you space to calm down, and then, perhaps you can understand me.

A week had passed since you'd broken up with Steve, and the man wasn't taking the news well. He believed you would've crumbled and ran back into his arms once the day ended, but when you hadn't called, much less answered his messages, the man grew furious. How dare you block his number and change the locks on your door? Did you have a visitor over, taking advantage of his absence to fuck whomever you desired? Didn't he mean anything to you? The week's absence had made Steve spiral out of control.

The reasonable part of him told him to move on, respect your wishes, and cease contact, but this was you. You weren't replaceable to Steve, oh no, he would make you stand by his side until death do part. Didn't you see you guys were meant to be? It also probably didn't help that the Avengers took his side and began feeding into Steve's delusions.

"I don't get it, man. You treat him right and love him unconditionally. How could he break your heart?" Was Tony's response once he heard of your relationship status. "He's dumb to break things off. I can only hope my relationship with Pepper is as strong as yours." Yeah, Tony wasn't really a help in calming Steve down.

Meanwhile, you were picking up the pieces of your life. Reconnecting with friends Steve had frightened off and taking a much-needed vacation from New York. You couldn't escape Steve when he was a public image—Captain America basically ruled over New York and had a place in people's hearts.

Sitting down at the little cabin you rented for the month, you sipped on your coffee and rethought your plans. Initially, you wanted to just start anew in New York, forget about Steve, and continue living your life, but that was thrown out the window. You could sense eyes wherever you went after breaking things off with Steve, and you might be crazy for saying such a thing, but you knew Steve. Knew he would pull strings to keep in contact and have an eye on you.

It also wasn't unreasonable to make such a connection when Steve was the leader of the Avengers—a team of superheroes with varying skills and resources. So your original plan of staying turned into you seeking residence as far away from the U.S. as possible. Yet, when you believe you've found the perfect place, something gets in the way—your bank is unable to transfer funds, the listing immediately reads as sold, the realtor not answering your calls. Every hindrance only makes you come to the same conclusion—Steve.

Yelling when the mug shattered in your hand, hot coffee burning your skin, you realized you weren’t alone. The front door of the cabin was closed, but standing next to it was Steve. The nearby lamp cast a dim, flickering light over his figure, highlighting his state of disarray. His once clean-cut appearance was gone, replaced by stubble, messy hair, and a simple t-shirt with jeans that looked like they’d been slept in. "Get out." You hissed, but the man only stepped closer, frightening you. "Get out! I don't want anything to do with you."

"I tried to be nice, and give you space, but nothing works." Steve said, ignoring your wishes as he advanced toward you. For every step he took, you stepped back twice. You couldn't help but fear for your safety when Steve disregarded your wishes and had this glint of madness in his eyes. "I need you. Can't you see that?"

Your back hit the wall, trapping you as Steve loomed closer. You never took your eyes off him, every nerve in your body screaming for you to escape, but there was nowhere left to go. "Steve, please." you begged, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. "You're scaring me. This isn't love."

Steve’s hand reached out, brushing against your cheek in a gesture that once might have been tender, but now only filled you with dread. "You’ll see, in time. You’ll remember how good we were together. You just need to stop fighting it."

Before you could react, Steve's hand shot out, gripping your chin with a force that made you wince. In a flash, he pulled you closer and crushed his lips against yours, his kiss bruising and possessive. You struggled against him, trying to push him away, but his arms were too strong, locking you in place as he held you tightly.

Your mind raced, panic surging through you as you fought to break free. This was not the man you once cared for; this was someone consumed by a twisted obsession, willing to do anything to keep you. Tears welled in your eyes as you clawed at his arms, desperate for air, desperate to escape.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Thinking about; getting choked by H.JS

[look at the size of his fucking hand. nobody cares about the pastry shua]

🖐Who; Hong Jisoo (Seventeen) x reader 🖐What; Not exactly smut but definitely 18+ 🖐WC; 1.2k 🖐Warnings; Profanity, choking, Shua is a bit condescending/teasing, I guess dom Shua if you wanna label it that way, I feel like I was gonna tag something else but i can't remember, it's actually a pretty fucking tame lil thot despite being about choking in my opinion tbh

Summary; Jisoo accidentally chokes you and discovers you're into it.

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

You're just about to walk away from Jisoo to go get a drink, or get a snack, or something else that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And for some reason, Jisoo reaches out and grabs the back of your t-shirt to try and pull you back to him. Yet all it does is almost make you stumble and let out a choked sound thanks to the collar pulling tight against your throat.

Of course, the sound worries him, it hadn't been his intention to hurt you, but there's a dark little part of his brain that lights the fuck up at hearing you choke because of him. Still, he pushes it down and moves you out of the party crowd to an almost hidden corner to fuss over you.

"Okay, chill the fuck out," You slap his hands away from where they're fluttering around your throat in worry that he's hurt you.

"I choked you."

"In the boring way." You mutter without thought then look at him with wide eyes as you register that those words came out of your mouth and didn't remain in your head.

"The boring way?" He repeats, eyes sparkling with mirth as he straightens to his full height and tilts his head at you with a sweet smile that you know hides a sharpness that you've always wanted to taste on your tongue.

"Shut up." You try, even if you know it's fruitless. Hong Jisoo is not a man who easily backs down when he's caught something or someone in his trap.

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move back and thunk against the wall which you truly hadn't noticed was so close. He takes another step, and then one more until his feet are blocking yours, his body so close you can feel the heat rolling off of him.

"Are you telling me there's a method of choking you enjoy, sweetheart?" He taunts softly as he lifts his left arm to lay his forearm against the wall diagonally, his elbow to the side of your head and his curled fist a little above your head. He's truly trapping you and honestly, you don't want to escape, wouldn't even try if there wasn't a wall blocking on the other side.

"Jisoo," You murmur.

"Mm?" He tilts his head and smiles a little brighter, though his eyes are darkening with a promise. You're not quite sure what that promise is yet, but you really want to find out.

You don't respond, there's truthfully nothing you have to say, well other than the urge to tell him to hurry up and put his hand on your throat, but you're certain if you even tried to suggest as much, he'd draw it out even longer and get off on your frustration.

"What's the matter? Lost your voice?" He smirks, dancing the fingers of his right hand over your left forearm, drawing goosebumps to the surface from his delicate touch. "Is that right, sweetheart? Did you lose your voice from just a tiny bit of pressure on this pretty throat?"

Suddenly, his fingers are against the side of your neck, palm not even brushing the very front of your throat and his thumb on the other side of your neck. Your brain immediately blanks but for one thought; how fucking big his hands are.

"Mm? Not going to answer me, baby?" He coos, leaning down towards you until his nose almost brushes yours. His eyes dart down when he catches your lips moving in his periphery, though no sound comes from your mouth and he chuckles, tone low and condescending. "Oh, honey," He straightens up just enough to meet your gaze, with that sparkle even brighter despite the darkness swirling in his eyes. "Is that pretty head of yours struggling already? I haven't even done anything. I'm not sure I should either." With a theatric put-upon pout, Jisoo starts to remove his light touch from your throat and push away from the wall.

You react without even thinking, both arms darting up to grab his right forearm and pull it back to you with big, pleading eyes locked on Jisoo. He can't help but lean back in, utterly mesmerised by how desperate you look to have his hand pressed to your throat.

Someone suddenly passes behind Jisoo much too close for his liking. They don't even glance your way yet Jisoo still angles his body to hide you as much as possible from them in a protective, possessive manner while his head lowers until the tip of his nose passes over your cheek when he turns his head towards you. "What do you want, baby, come on, tell me." He encourages you, a dark edge suddenly to his words. He suddenly sounds a little desperate himself, frantic even.

"Shua,"

"Yes, yes, that's my name, we know that." He huffs out, almost meanly and rolls his eyes. "Tell me something new. Tell me what you want me to do."

You turn your head as much as you can with his own so close to your right that your lips brush the side of his chin when you talk. Jisoo naturally tilts as soon as he feels your lips, as if you've done this a thousand times and it's nothing more than instinct to seek your lips with his own. But you haven't done this before, and even now, he doesn't kiss you, just lets your lips flutter over the edge of his mouth with your words. "Choke me," You whisper against his skin.

"You want me to choke you, sweetheart?" He repeats, both to tease and to make certain that you truly want this.

He wants it, wants it with everything in him but if you say no, he'll back up and do whatever he needs to make sure that you're comfortable, even if it means he leaves the party without you in his passenger seat to drive safely home like he always does.

You nod a little and urge his hand closer to your throat, hoping he'll get the message. The short chuckle he lets out in response puffs against your lips and vibrates from his chest, he's so close to you that you can practically feel it against your own.

"Mm," He hums and traces a gentle path over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose as his fingers and thumb press down in the exact right places, with a sudden pressure that makes your eyes roll back as your hands grip his forearm to support your suddenly weak body as best as you can. Jisoo notices your loss of strength by the way you slide down the wall a little and adjusts his stance so intuitively, nudging his right foot between your feet so that he can shove his thick thigh between your own.

And then he tightens his grip a little more on your throat, the perfect amount of pressure to make your mind empty and your body slump harder against his thigh. His breath blows over your ear as he laughs a condescendingly. When he talks, you can hear the taunting grin in his voice. "Like this?" Just like that, you know that this man is going to ruin you, and you're going to love every fucking second.

Tagging; @okiedokrie

[minniesmutt]

❄︎ ━━━━━━ 𝐰𝐚𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

❄︎ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ❄︎ ━━━ CW: SWITCH!HYUNJIN, SWITCH!READER, WAX PLAY, ORAL (F. REC), FINGERING, RIDING, PET NAMES (BABY, HUN,), AFTERCARE, IMPLIED SECOND ROUND, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE  ❄︎ ━━━ WC: 1.8K ❄︎ ━━━ NOTE: ❄︎ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     One Google search ruined all his algorithms. Just scrolling through sites, trying to get off at night and came across Wax Play. 

     Hyunjin never thought about it before but something told him to just watch it. So he clicked the video and two hours later he had found and purchased wax play candles. How he was going to bring it up to Y/n, he had no clue. 

     Both of them were home when the package came. Y/n ended up opening the door and grabbed the package. Bringing into the kitchen where he was trying to find food for lunch. 

     “What’d you order?” Y/n asked as she set the box labeled “FRAGILE” on the counter. 

     Hyunjin closed their fridge and looked at the box. Suddenly, he remembered he had never brought his newfound kink to her. 

     “Candles…” Hyunjin said

     “We have a closet full of candles?” Y/n said

     The couple just kind of stared at each other for a moment. “What kind of candles did you buy, Hyunjin.”

     “Body-safe candles.” the dancer answered

     “I’m not mad. But please elaborate.”

     “I was trying to get off last week when we were away for the concert and I fell down a rabbit hole and I wanna try wax play,” he summed it up as best he could.

     “You could have brought it up before the candles came,” Y/n told him as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

     “I know. I was trying to figure out how to bring it up then it slipped my mind.”

     “There’s nothing wrong with saying, ‘Hey babe. I wanna try something new.’”

     “I just wasn't sure since it’s a little more intense than what we usually do.”

     “When have I ever said no to experimenting?”

     “Never. And that’s why I love you.”

     Hyunjin cupped her face and gently pecked her lips.

     “So who is getting candle wax on them?” Y/n asked

     “Think it be pretty hot for you to drip it on me while you ride me.” Y/n saw his eyes shift to more lust-filled ones. 

     “Yeah?”

     “Yeah.”

     Hyunjin pulled her back in for another kiss. One hand moved down to hold her neck as she kissed him back. Lips moved together as he turned them and pressed her against their fridge. He tilted her head and moved his lips down to her neck. 

     “Still need to open the candles, baby,” Y/n reminded him

     “In a second love,” Hyunjin said

     “Getting ahead of yourself,” Y/n giggled as he pulled away.

     Grabbing their kitchen scissors and opening the box. He ordered two of them and placed both on the counter. Y/n grabbed one and looked at the back of it as Hyunjin stood behind her, slowly grinding his erection into her ass. 

     “Let's try it out,” Hyunjin muttered into the back of her head. 

     Y/n grabbed one of his wrists and dragged him down the hall to their bedroom with the candle in one hand. Hyunjin smiled and licked his lips. Tossing his t-shirt off when she let go to light the candle. Hyunjin came up behind her and pulled her shirt up as she set the lighter down. 

     “Gonna let me eat you out while we wait for that to melt,” Hyunjin smiled, gently moving her till she was lying on their bed

     “I’ll never say no to that.”

     Y/n smiled and pulled him to her lips again. Hyunjin groaned into the kiss. He grabbed the hem of her sweats and pulled them down with her undergarment as well. Y/n brought her legs up to help him a bit. 

     Hyunjin tossed the fabric across the mattress. He tore his lips away from her, took her shirt off, and threw it away. Kissing his way down her body as she tangled his fingers into his long hair. His hands opened her legs up and laid them on his shoulders as he got down, kneeling on the ground and pulling her to the edge. 

     “So pretty,” Hyunjin said to himself before licking up from her entrance to her clit. 

     Y/n let out a soft moan as he started sucking on her clit. Tongue getting to work flicking and licking up her sex. Enjoying every taste of her. He could never get tired of her. No matter how many times he ate her out or tasted her off his fingers. 

     Hyunjin moaned into her as his tongue dipped inside her. Licking all over her walls before slipping his tongue out and replacing it with his fingers. Y/n let out another moan and tightened her grip on his hair.

     His lips kissed the valley between her clit and entrance before wrapping around her clit again. Fingers pumping in and out of her and getting coated with her essence. 

     Y/n rocked her hips against him till he picked up his thrusting speed and added a third finger. His other hand crawled up her body to knead one of her breasts. His long fingers reached inside her and curled up into her walls. Coaxing her towards her high. 

     Y/n let out another moan as she clamped down on his fingers. “Almost there baby,” Hyunjin smiled and pressed his tongue flat against her clit. 

     “Yes,” Y/n moaned just as her high hit her. Legs clamping down on his head in reaction. Hyunjin pulled his fingers out of her and pushed his tongue inside. Licking her clean as she rode her high out. 

     “Taste so good,” Hyunjin moaned as he pulled his tongue out once she had finished. Kissing his way up till he landed on her lips again. 

     Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders and started pulling his shirt up to get it off of him. Hyunjin chuckled at her before pulling away and stripping himself of his clothing. Y/n sat up and checked on the candle. A decent pool of wax had formed around the wick. 

     Hyunjin sat behind her and pulled her on top of him. “Love watching you on top of me,” Hyunjin smiled as he grabbed her hips

     “You love anything about me, hun,” Y/n retorted as she slid over his cock. 

     “Can you blame me? You’re perfect baby,” Hyunjin replied as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. 

     Y/n cupped his face and pulled him into another kiss. Hyunjin moaned into her mouth as her tongue poked his lips. He happily let her inside and twisted his tongue with hers. His hands moved to her hips and lifted her slightly.

     Y/n reached behind her and positioned his tip at her entrance. Slowly sinking onto him as he whined into her mouth. He helped her move down till he was fully inside of her. Both sat there for a moment before Y/n pushed him back down onto the mattress and pinned his hands next to his head. 

     “Keep them there for me baby,” Y/n smiled as she sat up. Gently rolling herself against him, hands on his waist.

     “So warm,” the male moaned, grabbing the pillow under him. 

     Y/n smiled and clenched around him just to tease him before leaning over to their nightstand. Slipping his cock out of her just to the tip so she could grab the candle. She sat back down on him and watched as his eyes followed the candle with a small moan slipping out of him. 

     “Ready baby?” Y/n asked him

     “Yeah. Drip it on me.”

     Y/n gently tilted the candle, watching the wax slide onto the side before a small drop fell onto her boyfriend’s chest. Hyunjin jolted slightly as it made contact with his skin, bucking a bit up into her.

     “Feel good?” Y/n asked, rolling her hips against him

     “Yes,” Hyunjin whined, “Again, please.”

     Y/n stilled herself on top of him and moved the candle over a bit. Letting another drop of wax hit his skin. Then another and another. Slowly dripping down from the candle, drop by drop hitting his chest and letting it trail down to his stomach. Every drop of the wax that hit his skin had him twitching and gripping the pillow under his head.

     “Oh fuck,” Hyunjin whined as Y/n watched his stomach twitch as the warm wax dripped on him

     She could also feel his dick starting to twitch inside her. Occasionally he bucked his hips up when it hit him in a more sensitive area of his skin he didn’t know about. 

     “Fuck me, please baby. I need to cum,” Hyunjin whined as another drop hit him close to his belly button

     “Don’t wanna cum for me like this baby? Feels like you just might,” Y/n teased

     “Please, baby. Want you bouncing on my dick.”

     Y/n let a few more drops hit him before she put the candle upright and back on their nightstand. She sat back and looked over her work before leaning over him and placing her hands next to his head. Hyunjin looked up at his girlfriend. Y/n could see just how fucked out he was already. 

     She slowly raised her hips and sat back on him. He kept a slow pace until he started begging again. Y/n kissed his pretty plump lips before she sat up, running her hands along his chest and using him as a place to rest her hands for leverage. Picking her pace up. 

     His hips met hers more and more the closer he got to his high. His hands tightened on the pillow as he twitched inside her.

     “Gonna cum. So close,” Hyunjin whined

     “Gonna fill me up, baby?”

     “Yes! Let me fill you up, please baby.”

     “Go on baby.”

     Y/n picked up her speed, slamming down onto him as his high got closer and closer. She heard his little whimpers before she felt his warm seed hitting her walls. Slowly down her pace as she clenched around him, milking him till the end of his high. Sitting down on him again and let him calm down. Rubbing his sides till he had calmed down. “How are you feeling baby?” Y/n asked him

     “So good,” Hyunjin breathed out and he let go of his pillow and grabbed her hips.

     “I’ll get something to get the wax off, okay?” Y/n said as she leaned down and kissed his lips.

     “Okay,” Hyunjin agreed. He whined as she slowly got off of him. 

     Y/n walked out of their room for a few minutes before she came back and sat next to him. Gently scraping off the hardened wax with a plastic knife.

     “I didn’t even think of how to get it off,” Hyunjin laughed

     “If you weren’t so eager, you would have seen the company gave you a little card on aftercare after playing,” Y/n told him

     “Pretty and smart,” Hyunjin smiled and wrapped an arm around her.

     Y/n finished getting the wax off of him and gently rubbed over the spots the wax once laid.

     “Can I try it on you?” Hyunjin asked

     “Give yourself a few minutes to rest and then you can.”

❄︎ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

❄︎ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Asshekhqoyi Vezhvena (Happy Name Day)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: No plot to be found here, slight somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), smut. Word count: ~600

Summary: Aemond wakes up with his wife with a little name day treat.

Author's note: A birthday gift for @marthawrites - happy birthday, Martha! I hope you enjoy. No tag list - follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on notification. Community labels are for cops.

The desire to to give in to the pull of unconsciousness is at direct odds with the sensation between her legs. She is barely lucid, still longing for sleep, yet through the fogginess of her mind she feels deft fingers holding her legs apart, applying the slightest of pressure to keep her in place. Gentle movement against her core causes her to whimper faintly, her hips lazily chasing the sensation.

Slowly, she blinks her eyes open, the soft dawn light that filters through the bed curtains illuminating the sight of a head of long silver hair between her thighs. Her vision is unfocused, her mind still feels thick from slumber, each of the kitten licks that Aemond laves against her pearl rouses her slowly to wakefulness.

The throbbing ache that builds with each flick of her husband’s tongue intensifies, and she lets out a long sigh of pleasure, bucking her pelvis against his face as she sinks her hands into his silken tresses.

He hums against her, both a sound of appreciation and an acknowledgement to the fact that she is now awake. One seeing blue eye flickers up to meet hers, the sapphire remains unmoving, yet dazzling as ever.

She stares at him, lips parted, her breaths coming in unsteady puffs, and he doesn’t look away, keeping eye contact as his fingers tighten on her thighs, pulling her closer against his face.

Her head tilts back against the pillows, a desperate mewl escaping her lips as works at her with more enthusiasm, his tongue dragging flat and hard against her folds, repeatedly.

Gasping as he dips it inside of her, she tugs tightly on the roots of his hair, earning a low groan that vibrates against her already sensitive cunny.

The canting of her hips grows wilder, more desperate, and as she begins to clench around him, he pulls out and away slightly, before wrapping his lips around her bud and suckling harshly.

Through heavy lidded eyes, she can see the way his hips grind against the mattress, seeking friction in the wake of the effect that this is having on him. She hopes he will not find release before he has sunk inside of her.

The pressure in her lower belly builds, the exquisite torture of his mouth against her pushing her closer and closer to oblivion, before he slurps at her obscenely, licking from her entrance all the way to her pearl once, twice, three times, and she is done for.

The pressure reaches its pinnacle and her grip on Aemond’s hair becomes vice-like, as she holds his face against her, riding out the white hot waves of pleasure as he laps up everything she has to give.

Only when she has calmed, her back fully flat against the mattress does he rise from his position, covering her body with his. He looks beautiful like this, chin coated with her slick, a satisfied smirk upon his full, slightly swollen lips.

He leans down to kiss her and she moans quietly at the lewdness of it, the sharp taste of herself on his mouth stoking renewed desire within her.

When they pull away for air, his breath is hot against the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver with anticipation. “Asshekhqoyi vezhvena, gevivys”, he whispers. Happy name day, beautiful.

She smiles, her hands stroking down the length of his back, enjoying the way his hardened cock presses against her thigh; an indication that she will soon receive the second of her name day gifts from the One Eyed Prince.

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[thera-daydreams]

SCARLET & SHADOW

ᱬ The Darkling x Scarlet Witch!Reader ᱬ

[aleksander morozova x wanda maximoff!reader]

series masterlist & synopsis • thera's masterlist

chapter three.

▪︎ reflection ▪︎

You are confronted by a certain Shadow Summoner about your motives in bringing the kids to the Little Palace. He realizes that you've loved and lost so deeply, eerily the same as he had. Perhaps that's the reason why he was so drawn to you; he could see his reflection in your eyes. But the more answers the Darkling got, the more questions he had. Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was a patient and persistent man who would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

warnings: grief, implied depression, mentions of the many tragedies of wanda maximoff, the darkling is getting very suspicious and that's not a good sign for you, no beta we die like wanda

word count: 4.8k

(author's note: so we see his vulnerable side and scheming side all in one chapter, lol.)

The fallen leaves had a crisp crunch to them today.

As you go about your duties in the garden, you hear familiar footsteps approaching. When you look up, you see the Darkling making his way towards you, the ever-present regal air about him.

“Good morning, moi soverenyi,” you greet, placing the packet of seedlings down on the grass. Moonflowers, he notices the labels on them.

He stops a few paces away from you, his gaze fixing on you, the sharpness in them never fading. “A word, Miss Maximoff?”

You blink, slowly standing. He seemed much more serious today. Not that he wasn’t, usually, but you felt a… change in his approach to you. General Kirigan glances around the garden, his expression almost cautious for a moment. Then, he motions for you to join him as he strides towards a more secluded corner of the garden; an area that's shielded from view by a large flower bed. He stops beside a stone bench beneath a tree, motioning for you to sit. Once you're seated on the stone bench, he remains standing for a moment, his back to you as if he's contemplating something. Then, he turns and takes a seat beside you.

It was quite tempting to read his mind right now since he seemed to be thinking so hard.

The General glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze almost watchful as he seems to consider his words. The silence stretches on for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the garden around you - birds chirping, a light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees.

“I heard something about you,” he reveals. Your eyes widen slightly, somewhat alarmed. What did he say?

“Pardon me, General?” You very nearly stammered. Kirigan looks at you, his gaze meeting yours directly.

“You were not entirely truthful about why you became a gardener here in my palace.” He regards you with a knowing look.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow, sir—”

“Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik. Familiar names?”

The color almost drains from your face. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. There's a slight hint of curiosity in his expression, almost as if he's trying to decipher something about you.

“... No, moi soverenyi,” you lie. But you were awful at it sometimes, for a powerful witch.

“Is that so?” He hums, sounding in disbelief. “But I heard from the boys themselves you actually brought them to the Little Palace. Not a traveling hunting group, as indicated in their papers. And sweet Katyusha appears to miss her… mama.”

You close your eyes, calming your beating heart. Did he talk to the kids himself? Were they questioned? Shit. It would be very hard for anyone to lie to the Black General, more so children under ten! Kirigan watches you intently, his eyes studying your features.

“I’m sorry, General—” He holds a hand up to cut you off.

“None of that. My only question is why?” He asks suddenly, his voice low. “Why did you do that? Help not one, not two, but three young Grisha orphans?”

I frown at his incredulous tone. It was terrible that it was a world where acts of kindness to Grisha were so unbelievable. “They deserve to be cared for properly as Grisha, sir. They were very young when they exhibited their abilities, especially Katyusha as a Heartrender.”

The General nods slowly, processing what you've said. His gaze was mixed with something that almost looked like respect. He's silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words. “And... how did you know they were Grisha, at such a young age? Usually, the Grisha testers—amplifiers are needed.”

“I took them under my care from the streets for a year, sir. And with how… powerful they seemed to be at their age, it was a bit obvious,” you mutter. The Shadow Summoner raises an eyebrow at your response.

“Obvious?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“With Katyusha's temper tantrums added to her separation anxiety when she was so young… and her being Heartrender... you can imagine.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “The boys were already using their powers by the time I took them in, sir. Probably because they often had to be on the run to survive.”

The Black General frowned. He knew what that felt like, centuries ago. He hated the fact that even until now, with Grisha of the new generation, it was still the same problem.

You look at him, swallowing a little nervously. “General Kirigan, I... will confess. I did apply for the gardener position here at the Little Palace to… mainly to see them every once in a while. If there is a punishment for this, I am more than willing to—”

He shakes his head, stopping you. “You care about them. All three of these children."

“Of course! They are still children, Grisha or not,” you interject. He senses the protectiveness in your voice. “They deserve to have a chance at a good life!”

The Darkling observes as you get a little riled up. He looks as if he's considering something, his expression almost contemplative, as if he's weighing his next words carefully. “And... you, Miss Maximoff... are not Grisha, are you?”

You shake your head. That was one truth you did not need to change, thankfully.

“Your care for them is quite remarkable, Miss Maximoff. Especially since you're not Grisha,” he remarks curiously.

“My care for them should not be remarkable. It is human decency,” you huff indignantly. A spark appears in his dark eyes at the sight. “I did not want them to be persecuted by the villagers who don't know any better... just because they are Grisha. That's why I brought them here. Some people are just… heartless.” You exhale.

Kirigan nods, fingers tracing the smooth stone of the bench you two were sitting on. “Many Grisha are feared and hunted, even as children. They are perceived as... unnatural. Monstrous.” His eyes darkened momentarily, unpleasant memories running through his mind. “It was noble for an otkazat'sya like you to personally bring them to the Little Palace.”

The General tilts his head slightly, watching you silently. There's that curiosity again in his gaze, as if he's contemplating something, trying to figure out something... you.

“You’re not like other otkazat'sya, are you, Miss Maximoff? At his words, you do your best not to freeze like a deer in headlights.

“... What do you mean, sir?” Your voice was measured. Controlled. Neutral. The lying was never the easy part of all your secrets, huh?

Kirigan leans closer to you now, his gaze focused intently on your face. He's studying your features as if he's searching for something. “I've met many otkazat'sya in my life. But... you're different. There's something about you. Something I can't quite place…”

Mother of all saints, he was onto you. Though, he did not know much about it yet, thankfully. Still, you weren’t doing anything illegal in Ravka. So why was it so disconcerting?

He tilts his head. There was something about you that seemed so very familiar. “Miss Maximoff, have… we met before?”

That made you pause. No. Never, as far as you could recall. You shake your head. “Not that I remember, General.”

“Well, Miss Maximoff, do you disagree with my observation? Do you not believe there is something different about you?” You honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

“I don’t know, sir…”

He looks at you, his gaze steady; intense. There’s a look in his eyes that seems almost... expectant. It’s as if he’s waiting for another answer. Or an explanation. What could you say?

“I can easily have you taken away for questioning if you’re lying, you know,” he prods, his voice casual; a hint of humor in his tone. “I could also have you executed, if you like. Possibly for insubordination.” It was as if he were discussing the weather and not the idea of ordering someone’s death.

“... You could, yes,” you murmur calmly. Too calmly.

“But it seems like you’re not afraid of death, Miss Maximoff.” Kirigan was impressed. Perhaps he should retrieve Ivan or Fedyor to see if you were truly unafraid as you appeared to be. Another reason why you seemed to be such an intriguing otkazat’sya.

At his remark, you chuckle. The Darkling looks at you, his gaze now more intrigued than before. There’s a hint of fascination in his eyes, as if he’s trying to figure out what makes you fearless in the face of mortality. “How peculiar. Why not?”

“I guess you could say it's an old friend,” you reply vaguely. His expression turns slightly puzzled at your response.

“An old… friend?” he mutters. You nod.

“Explain.” A deep frown had curved his lips down. He did not understand.

“Is that an order, moi soverenyi?”

He looks at you, his gaze unwavering. “No. It’s not an order. It’s a… request, Wanda.” His voice was slightly softer than before. And it was the first time he used your first name.

“Hmm... death is…” You look up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, trying to word your response. Kirigan looks at you, his gaze intent, listening closely as he awaits your response. “... Like a friend, always there. Always waiting... patient, silent. It bides its time until it’s your time.”

He was silent, almost considering your words.

As you fiddle with your fingers, you add quietly, “When you've lost enough people in your life, you'll realize that... death may not be something to fear. It's almost... peaceful, the finality of it. That all of the suffering and pain is gone.”

Unbeknownst to you, the words struck a chord in the Black Heretic himself. There’s something in your words that resonates with him. 

“You have a unique understanding of death, Wanda,” he mused.

“Do I, moi soverenyi?”

“You do. Most people fear death, but you seem accepting of it. You talk as if it’s a comfort to you.”

“And if it is?”

Kirigan watches you closely, noticing the tiny smile on your lips as you gaze downwards at the grass at your feet. There’s a moment of silence as he studies your expression, trying to understand the depth of your acceptance of death.

“Powerful Grisha age slower... don't they?” you asked suddenly.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he confirms. “Powerful Grisha live longer than ordinary humans. But why do you ask?”

“You're perhaps the most powerful one right now. So it stands to reason that you must be much older than you look, General.” You pointed out, an inquisitive look in your eyes.

The Darkling looks at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face at your observation. He grows a bit more guarded, and there’s a hint of something else now in his eyes—a slight wariness at the thought that you’ve managed to deduce something about him.

“You have a keen eye,” he says curtly.

“Just been reading at the library,” you murmured, before adding. “When the Apparat is not around. Although servants aren’t prohibited to go there—as far as I can recall from the rules—I prefer to read in peace.”

Kirigan looks at you, an almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. From your answer, it sounds like you’ve just been casually reading about Grisha and their powers. “You’ve been studying... Grisha in the library?”

“I wanted to know more... especially for Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik,” you share honestly. “To understand who and what they are even more.”

At your answer, the Darkling feels a strange tug on his heart… and his lips.

“If you're older than you look because of your powers... I'm sure you have some thoughts regarding death as well.” You rest your elbows on your knees, leaning forward as you sit on the bench. “Perhaps you disagree with me. About it being an old friend.”

The dark-haired general doesn’t respond immediately, but something in his eyes suggests you may have hit a nerve. His expression remains solemn and contemplative for a moment before he speaks again. 

“I don’t disagree,” he mutters, his voice soft but slightly distant. “But death… is not something I have accepted.”

Wistfulness washed over his stony facade, like he was contemplating something far beyond the conversation you’re having now. “I am not immune to death, even as a powerful Shadow Summoner. It is inevitable, unfortunately. But... I do not accept it so easily. I am not yet ready to embrace the finality of it all.”

“I can understand why,” you whisper, meeting his eyes for a moment. He appears surprised, his eyes searching your face for a moment, as if he’s trying to see something deeper within you. There’s a touch of vulnerability in his gaze now; a glimmer of what he’s keeping hidden.

“What makes you say that?” he clarifies hesitantly. You tilt your head at him. Even without you reading his mind, you were certain about his motives. It was clear from everything that you’ve read about the current history of Grisha and Ravka and the Black General.

“You are the Black General. An infamous Shadow Summoner. The leader of all Grisha. I figure that you dislike the finality of death because there is still much you wish to do... to accomplish,” you remarked after a few seconds of scanning his features. “And I have a feeling it's for your people, the Grisha. Or for Ravka…”

General Kirigan looks at you, faint astonishment and... could that be admiration in his eyes? He seems almost taken aback by your astute observation. 

Little did you know how accurate your words were.

For a moment, he stands in silence, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he responds, his voice soft.

“You are too perceptive, Wanda.” He mutters, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Too good at reading people.”

You could read minds, too, but you haven’t done that since you sent those Grisha slavers away from you and the children months ago. The general did not need to know that, though. Not ever, you hope.

You laugh softly as the two of you sit on the stone bench in the garden, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and plants, leaving a fragrant, fresh scent in the air.

“My apologies, then, moi soverenyi.”

“No need to apologize,” he assures you, shaking his head with a slight smile. “In this palace full of fools, it’s refreshing to talk to someone with a modicum of sense.”

“You shouldn’t call your people fools, sir.” A small giggle escapes your lips. He finds himself drawn to the sound.

General Kirigan looks at you, an amused expression on his face at your playful scolding. He pretends to be affronted by your comment but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Am I not allowed to criticize my own Grisha?” he hums, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You smile at him. It made your usually gloomy demeanor brighten the same way it did when he spotted you with those Grisha children days ago.

He likes seeing you smile, he finds.

“Well, I'm an otkazat'sya. I don't think I have a valid opinion on that.” You gaze at the nearby flower bed.

He shakes his head slightly, a soft breath of amusement leaving his lips.

“Ah, but your opinion is welcome nonetheless,” he mutters, his voice a touch fond. You return the tiny smile he shows, before he asks. "Why... may I ask, have you accepted the finality of death?"

You somber down at his words, the smile fading. “I do not have many goals or aspirations left in life, sir. I guess the only one I have now is seeing Katyusha, Henrik, and Dmitri happy and thriving as growing Grisha.”

He examines you, his expression becoming more serious as he notices the subdued tone in your voice. The hint of a smile on his face slowly fades away, and he gazes at you, his eyes gently studying your features.

“Your only aspiration is seeing the children thrive as Grisha?” Was there concern in his voice? Maybe you imagined it. You nod.

“You... don’t have aspirations of your own?”

“... No. Not anymore, at least,” you whisper.

He studies your face, as if he’s trying to see the depths of your soul. “If you have no aspirations, then you have nothing to live for,” he comments solemnly.

“But... the children will grow up. They will be grown Grisha, capable of taking care of themselves someday. What then?”

“Then…” You focus on your dirty garden gloves. “I'm more than content to be with my old friend.”

Death, he remembers. And the relentless Darkling didn’t realize that a part of his cold, broken heart could still break. He searches your face for any sign of jest or insincerity. When he finds none, something strange passes through his eyes—something he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself.

“You... you would truly accept death so easily?”

This time, the smile you gave was nothing near joyful.

He shakes his head, “You are strange, Miss Maximoff.”

Silence grows between us for a minute. Then, he breaks it.

“You said you’ve lost enough people in your life… who, if it’s alright for me to ask?”

Everyone, you think. But one person always stood out. Vision. “... My late husband. Amongst… many other people.”

He can sense the pain and sorrow in your words, and he gives a soft, quiet hum in response.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was low and gentle as he offered his condolences.

At his words, you smile a bit. Genuinely. “Thank you, moi soverenyi.” You scoff a little, amused. “You're... actually the first person to say that.”

The general’s eyes widened.

“Am I really?” Disbelief coated his voice. “No one else has said it to you?”

“I grieved his death alone,” you whisper. “I did not exactly have… a body… to bury. So there was no funeral.” Realizing the weight of your own words, memories of creating the Hex to cope with your loss ran through your mind.

You don’t notice him staring at your forlorn expression, mirrored in his face. His heart seems to tighten at the thought of you having mourned your husband alone, with no one to comfort or reassure you.

“You... you mourned his death alone. No one was there to comfort or reassure you during those dark times?” Kirigan was stunned. You inhale sharply.

“... No.”

Unbeknownst to you, he knows exactly what it's like to grieve alone.

Only the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds could be heard in the garden.

Unable to help himself, he finally speaks up in a low voice. “You did not deserve that.”

Your head snaps to him, a questioning look in your glassy eyes. Both of you make eye contact for what seems like forever as you await his next words.

“You… you did not deserve to go through such grief, alone. No one should have to endure that burden alone,” he murmured.

You smile sadly, fingers fidgeting. “I was ten when my parents died. But I had my twin brother, Pietro…” The mention of the name on your lips stings your eyes. “We were practically inseparable after… the incident.” The bombings of Sokovia which left you and so many orphaned.

General Kirigan waits for you patiently, not interrupting what you wanted—needed to say out loud.

“And when Pietro died… it was like this wave washing over me again and again. Knocking me down. When I try to stand up… it just comes for me again." Unconsciously, your hand comes up to rest on your chest, where your heart was. "I… thought I was drowning every time I breathed.”

Kirigan watches, jaw clenched at how you described your grief.

You paused, a melancholic smile appearing on your face. “But my husband was there to comfort me. Not yet as my love, but as a loyal friend.”

His features soften as he sees the sadness in your smile. “Your brother was there when your parents passed... and your husband, even before you loved him, was there after your brother was gone,” he echoes.

“But when my husband passed…” You laughed humorlessly.

“Where were your friends?”

You shook your head. “... It's complicated. It was a... tough time for me and my... friends.” The Blip reunited many loved ones. Good for them. “I cannot blame them for not being there.”

“Not even one of them?”

You ponder sadly. “Natasha would have been there, I think. If...”

The Darkling has a questioning look on his face at the new name. “Natasha.”

“A mentor of mine. Also my best friend,” you smile fondly, then shake your head. “But she died around the same time, too.” On Vormir for the Soul Stone to revive the snapped other half of your universe.

The Soul Stone for your best friend and the Mind Stone for the love of your life. How tragic.

General Kirigan was left speechless. How many people you loved did you exactly lose? You seemed so young. But it was as if you could more than fully grasp the depth of solitude he had experienced. And he was centuries old.

The Black Heretic himself.

“Did... you have any children with your husband, if I may ask?”

“Twin boys, just like my brother and I. Billy and Tommy.” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you remembered them. Kirigan takes in your smile at the mention of your twin sons. He listens quietly as you whisper their names, as if you've thought about them for a long, long time.

Suddenly, you shake your head and stand, finding the conversation a bit too much. “I—I’m sorry, General. This must all be too overly personal. I'm oversharing—”

He shakes his head, motioning for you to sit back down on the stone bench beside him. “No, no. It’s fine. And besides, you look like you need someone to talk to, Wanda.”

“...”

And should that be the general and the head of the palace you were currently working in? It was quite embarrassing that you were venting out to this man.

Sighing, you sit, chuckling. “... You must be wondering where they are if I'm here living at the Little Palace, spending all my days gardening.”

His brows raised, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to that question, too.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around it. My boys are… in a better place now,” you whisper.

The man senses the heaviness of your words; the weight of your grief. Obsidian eyes swirled with emotion, as if he can relate to your pain in a way that few can understand.

“Is that why you're so resigned to death, should it come?” he asks quietly, his tone low and gentle. "Have you been alone for so long, Wanda?"

You give him a sad smile, “Perhaps it is simply my fate.”

The Darkling himself had mixed feelings about fate. He was old, so very old, and yet, a part of him still held onto the hope that maybe the Sun Summoner—his balance and other half—was true. But this fate of eternal solitude that you spoke of… he did not want to believe it at all.

“And yet, despite all that you have lost, you still chose to care for and bring those three children here to the Little Palace,” Kirigan noted.

You look down on your hands. “They were never mine.”

Many people told you the same thing with Vision, Billy, and Tommy. Not yours. Not real.

He can tell that he's just on the cusp of understanding something about you, a hidden depth to your character. There's a strange pull to you, some indefinable quality that's drawing him to you more and more.

“You're stronger than some Grisha I know,” he says, true admiration in his voice. His eyes linger on the jar you're holding, watching as the snail moves slowly inside the glass jar. “You’ve endured solitude, grief, and loss more than once, and yet you continue to live, to breathe… to love.”

You meet his gaze. It feels like you were being beckoned by the intensity of his inky eyes.

But before you could respond, you two hear the crunching of grass and rocks, someone approaching you. Quickly, you stand from where you were seated beside the General, placing a more respectable distance between you both right as one of his oprichniki comes into view.

General Kirigan turns to look at the approaching guard, a slight frown on his face. He eyes the soldier that has come to see him, a slight annoyance evident in his gaze. As soon as you move away from him, and he notices the distance you've put between you and him, his frown deepens even more and a flicker of something almost… possessive passes through his eyes.

“What is it?” His eyes narrowed.

The oprichniki spoke, bowing. "Moi soverenyi, your carriage to Ryevost is ready.”

He nods, sighing exasperatedly at the soldier's words. He glances at you for a moment, then back at the soldier.

“Very well, I’ll be there in a moment. Go wait at the gates,” Kirigan commands. The soldier bows once more and quickly turns and leaves, leaving you and the General alone once again.

“... Thank you, General. For listening,” you say before he could leave. Said man looks at you, the frown on his face slowly fading. He studies you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s clear that he’s still somewhat annoyed by the soldier interrupting your time together, but he tries to hide it from you.

“Apologies, but duty calls." There’s a hint of something… almost satisfied in his gaze, as if he’s pleased by the realization that you’re not such strangers anymore.

His gardener was even more of a fascinating person beneath all the layers.

“Safe travels, moi soverenyi.” You bow. You don’t see the slight smile curving his lips upward as you do.

“Until we meet again, Wanda.”

ᱬᗢᱬ

As the General rides in his carriage to Ryevost, his thoughts continue to circle back to you. He thinks about every little thing you said, everything you did, every expression on your face and movement of your body. He’s unable to shake you from his thoughts, running his fingers idly across the top of the leather seat of the carriage.

What an enigma.

An otkazat’sya woman who willingly brought three Grisha orphans to the Little Palace out of her own volition? And even applying as a gardener to covertly watch over them?

You must be truly dedicated to those kids.

His brows furrowed as he remembers once more that when those two boys—Henrik and Dmitri—had admitted that you were the one to personally escort them. Alone. You guys did not accompany a traveling hunting group, as they initially mentioned all those months ago.

“Fedyor, those three children I spoke to earlier this week,” he starts, turning the man inside the coach with him. The Heartrender listened attentively.

“Ah, the boys who are so attached to little Katyusha?” Fedyor smiles. He’s met the very young girl before, amazed that her being a Heartrender manifested at such an age.

“Where did they say they traveled from again?” the general asks.

“Hmmm… I believe it was a little town somewhere in Tsibeya, sir. They traveled on foot for days to get to the Little Palace,” the Heartrender replied, unaware of the General's growing concern. “Brave little ones.”

Aleksander’s eyes turn to the view outside his carriage, thinking deeply.

Tsibeya was so close to the Fjerdan border. And you were out there alone. In the cold. With three Grisha children. The boys didn’t mention either if there was anyone else accompanying your group in your journey into Os Alta. Only that the traveling hunting group was a lie.

A few months ago, too, Fjerda had sent a fresh batch of drüskelle past the Ravkan borders. He remembers it quite clearly, given the number of casualties in his northern regiments during that time.

It would have been very unlikely for your small group to have survived had you encountered a drüskelle in your trip. Moreover, it should have been likelier that you and the children would have encountered one whilst traversing Tsibeya.

The children were not clearly Grisha yet without their keftas and all, he supposes, but the drüskelle still could have attacked any Ravkan—Grisha or not. He’d also seen that Henrik and Dmitri were already somewhat well-versed with their powers so young. If a drüskelle, say, saw a young Inferni lighting a fire to keep his group warm in the cold…

Something was not adding up.

Plus, there were a couple of units of Grisha assigned in those areas. Surely, your group could have passed any of them. You could have chosen to hand over the kids to them, too—it would have been safer if they were protected by the Second Army soldiers, right? The children would have had Grisha escorts bringing them to the Little Palace.

But no, his mysterious little gardener did it all by herself. 

And not a single hair was harmed on the children’s heads even after such a long, dangerous journey.

He scoffs to himself. They were even more unharmed than the armed, trained soldiers he sends to the north.

The more he knew about you, the more questions Aleksander was having. But he had to be patient. This conversation would have to wait until after his stay in Ryevost.

Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was an incredibly patient man with centuries of experience.

He would get his answers from you soon enough.

next chapter

Reblogs, comments, and interactions are welcome here! 💖🙏

What do you think about Sasha here getting even more sus of you, hmm? Will Scarlet Witch-in-hiding be able to hide from the Darkling? 🤭

taglist: @idohknow

[summerlimeismethebrony]

[Image Description: an 11-panel comic page on paper in which Laurice Deauxnim/Larry Butz and Maya Fey from Ace Attorney sit side-by-side. Laurice has tight posture and an uncomfortable look on his face, while Maya is looking around in an uninterested manner; a large textbox labeled "Waiting for Nick" points at the two of them. Laurice looks over at Maya with a sidelong glance, grimacing. Laurice turns away, asking: "...Do you hate me?" Maya bursts out: "WHAT? Why would I hate you?!" ["What" is in all caps to indicate volume.] Laurice flinches away from the outburst. Laurice begins to explain, saying: "Elise", but cutting himself off and shaking his head, starting again with a downcast expression: "Your mom was my mentor." ["Your mom" is underlined to indicate emphasis.] Maya leans forward on her hands and tilts her head in confusion. Laurice continues, waving his hand in the air: "Like, she taught me how to be a better person, to— to grow up, y'know?" Laurice looks back at Maya, his palm toward her, with tears in his eyes, and says: "But you... She was your mom, and you never got that." ["mom" is underlined to indicate emphasis.] Maya looks at Laurice with concern, as he says: "I wouldn't blame you, if you hated me." End Image Description]

I think they should be allowed a Real Conversation, actually

(And some close-ups, bc I forgot just how energy-intensive making a comic page is, and I ended up working really hard on this messy, self-indulgent little comic)

[spider-stark]

Our Girl

Harry Osborn x Reader // Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - You're forced into attending a gala with Peter and Harry, where your best friends unintentionally plant a tempting idea in your head.

Warnings - none that i know of. just banter with the boys and some pining on all ends.

// masterlist // forever indebted // send me your thoughts //

“You're late.” 

PETER'S FEET came to a grinding stop in front of you, finding himself ensnared under the weight of your glowering gaze. The pointed remark had been enough to set his senses on fire, the radioactive venom in his veins having labeled you a threat as the fine hairs coating his arms began to stand on end. 

It wasn’t often that Peter found himself on the receiving end of your current tone, rarely ever being the one to tick you off enough to draw out your more menacing side. Until now, actually, he had been fairly certain that the tone had been specially reserved for Harry. 

He recognized it as a threatening sound, a subtle warning to be used whenever the Oscorp heir would speak too freely of his perverted fantasies about you. Although, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t remember a time that it had ever worked on Harry, with little having the capability to encourage the young Osborn to restrain himself. 

Peter wondered how Harry managed to maintain his confidence when he was the target of your irritation, especially considering that Peter’s stomach already felt like it was doing cartwheels. 

“Ah, you know how it is,” a nervous chuckle as he inched closer to your side, leaning in close so you could hear him over the loud music playing overhead, “some guy with a gun wanted to try his luck at City National bank. Figured Spider-Man could handle it quicker than the NYPD.” 

You tilted your head, brows rising slightly in agreement. “Still,” you huffed out, averting your gaze to the golden-hued liquid in your glass, “you swore you’d be here. I was starting to think I was gonna have to deal with these pricks all by myself.” 

Peter chuckled, an action that earned him another icy glare. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” His teasing comment didn’t get a reply as you worked to maintain your sour mood with him. “Besides,” he tried again, lightly nudging you with his shoulder, “even if I hadn’t come you still wouldn’t be alone. Harry’s around here somewhere, yeah?” 

You snorted loudly at his question, the ill-mannered sound causing you to receive a few dirty looks from the haughty individuals within earshot. “Oh yeah, cause he’s so much help.” you droned sarcastically, throwing back what remained of your drink before continuing, “I think I’ve already got enough rich assholes trying to get me in bed when we come to these things.” 

There were many reasons you hated being forced into these flashy galas; the music was always obnoxious, often some type of mind-numbing classical, and the hors d’oeuvres were usually things you wouldn't ever consider eating, which meant you had no choice but to starve until it was over. 

But, the most notable reason for hating them, was that the Osborn name had a nasty habit of attracting New York’s most atrocious men. They were the kind of men that didn’t just think they deserved your time, but actually felt as if they were entitled to it, and it was rare that they were willing to accept rejection. 

To Harry’s credit, though, he was just as good as Peter at keeping prying eyes and unwelcome hands away from you. The only true difference between the two boys was their approach. 

Peter—ever the gentleman—typically opted for the kill ‘em with kindness route. A sweet hand hovering over the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded Osborn mansion. He would toss out an occasional pet name whenever someone overstayed their welcome in a conversation, do you need another drink baby? or I think Harry’s looking for us, sweetheart. 

His actions served as a gentle deterrent for anyone who dared to approach you, a subtle indication that you were taken. Peter fell into the role of the perfect boyfriend with such ease, so respectable and kind. 

Harry, on the other hand, never failed to take full advantage of the situation; unwilling to waste an opportunity to stake some sort of claim on you. 

He was bolder than Peter, thin fingers traipsing along your bare thigh as you sat next to him, slowly letting them dip underneath the fabric of your dress with such jealous intent. Ocean eyes would cage the man that you’d told him wouldn’t take no for an answer, forcing him to watch as his hand slipped higher and higher. 

You had grown used to Harry’s antics, and you were also aware that he’d never take it too far. He knew how far he could go before you’d tighten the leash around his neck, only occasionally pushing past the limit just enough to get on your nerves and earn a rough slap to his chest. 

For Peter—so sweet and gentle—it was a precious moment, one in which he could let himself experience what it would be like to actually call you his. For Harry—so brash, so passionate—it was a show of dominance; an act of war, even, against anyone who dared to act as if you weren’t his. 

You rarely bothered to remind him that you didn’t belong to him—either of them—often too caught up in your own imagination. You had the power to turn both boys into little more than lovesick puppies, and they held that same power over you. 

“Better to be the rich asshole you know than the one you don’t, right?” Peter contended, reaching over to take the empty glass from your hand and place it on the tray of a passing waiter. You only lifted your shoulders at the remark, muttering a small fair enough in response, scanning over the lavish room that was filled to the brim with New York’s most elite. 

“Speak of the devil.” You mused as your gaze fell upon Harry, sauntering through the crowd with ease and making a beeline for you and Peter. 

“There’s my favorite outcasts!” Harry roared as he approached, a wide grin spreading across his face as he lazily slung an arm over each of your shoulders, effectively wedging himself between you and Peter. You hadn’t noticed the way Peter stiffened at the action, the disappointment that glimmered in his dark eyes at being pushed further away from you. 

Instead, you just rolled your eyes at the label Harry had used for the two of you, jokingly shoving his touch off of you. You hardly considered yourself an outcast, though you had to admit that these parties had a tendency to turn you into a wallflower, leaving Harry to schmooze with potential investors all on his own while you and Peter drowned yourself in his finest booze. 

Harry bounced back quickly from your teasing rejection, his hand finding its way to your body once again, this time slipping around your waist and pulling you into his side. “You’re late.” He repeated the same phrase that had left your lips just moments ago. 

Your jaw fell slack immediately and Peter already struggled to stifle his laughter, having anticipated your reaction to Harry’s claim. “He’s late!” You jutted your finger across Harry’s chest, pointing it at Peter, “I have been here for almost an hour, Har.” Another huff as you retracted your hand, arms moving to cross firmly over your chest. “Maybe you would’ve noticed I was here if you weren’t so busy flirting with half of Manhattan.” 

When you had first arrived and realized Peter was nowhere to be seen, you planned on finding Harry, so used to always attaching yourself to one of their hips. But, when you finally found the boy, he was cornered by a few heiresses that were all desperately trying to sink their claws into the Osborn fortune. 

“Aw,” Harry cooed, slender fingers playfully squeezing your side as he spoke, “jealous much?” 

You glared up at him through your lashes, but didn’t make a move to pull away from his touch this time, “Not jealous-” you corrected him, “pissed off. You’re the one that forced me to come to this thing, and then you just went off to galavant with your admirers.” 

“Galavant, eh?” His eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile as he glanced at Peter. “How much has she had to drink?” 

Peter raised his palms like a white flag, relinquishing himself from any responsibility for your somewhat buzzed state. “I’m not drunk!” You swiftly declared, looking ever so slightly offended by the comment. 

Harry ignored your statement, reverting back to the previous topic, “Well don’t worry your pretty little head,” he let the arm that had been thrown over Peter’s shoulders fall, moving to lightly tap at your forehead as he spoke, finding amusement in the way your eyes narrowed at the teasing action, “you know I’ve only got eyes for you doll.” 

“God,” Peter groaned out, shaking his head at the interaction, “you’re never gonna give up, are you?” 

“And let you have her all to yourself?” Harry’s neck snapped in Peter’s direction, feigning a gasp at his best friend. “Only in your dreams, Parker.” 

“Funny you say that!” 

You lowered your head, cheeks puffing out as you exhaled loudly. “Here we go again.” You uttered to yourself, aware that neither of them would be listening to you now that they had gotten started. 

“Have you told y/n about what’s going on in your dreams lately?” Peter cocked his head to the side with a smug grin. 

It was truthfully a weak attempt to embarrass Harry, seeing as though the boy very quickly owned up to his lewd fantasies. “All the time, actually.” He hummed to himself, his tongue darting over his lips as he tried to push Peter further, “She totally gets off on it, too. Fuck, you’d love to watch the way our girl squirms when I tell her about all the nasty things I wanna do to her.” 

Our girl. 

A phrase that they both used quite often, as if they knew they’d always been forced to share you, despite the fact that each of them wanted to claim you for themselves. 

“Oh yeah.” Peter’s head bobbed alongside his words. “She’s clearly head over heels for you.” He sarcastically reassured Harry, a hand clamping against his forearm. “Not like she’s ignored all of your advances for a literal year now.” 

Of course you had. 

Ever since he returned from boarding school, Harry had tried relentlessly to win you over. While both the boys were both equally obsessed with you, Harry was always much more obvious about his affection. Of the two of them, Harry had always been the most dauntless when it came to getting what he wanted, whereas Peter tended to bottle his emotions up in fear of rejection. 

But, despite his efforts, for every advance Harry made there was a rejection waiting for him. You couldn’t pick between the two of them, couldn’t risk breaking one of their hearts by choosing one over the other. 

“I’m sorry,” a dry chuckle escaped Harry’s parted lips, the hand that wasn’t gripping your side moving to rest against his temple, “I forgot that she tells you everything that happens behind closed doors!” He quipped, smirking as he watched Peter’s brow raise at the antagonizing comment. 

“You should stop by Oscorp sometime after close,” he continued, finding far too much pleasure in the way Peter’s jaw clenched at his words, “let me know if you can hear her choking on my dick from the lobby.” 

Your hand collided with his arm, shaking your head at his perverted comment. It didn’t affect him much, though, only grinning down at you in response. 

“You’re an idiot.” Peter grumbled, shuffling his feet as he attempted to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. 

He knew that Harry was lying through his teeth, just trying to get a rise out of him. It had become a sort of game to them, both of them ruthlessly trying to get under the other's skin. Still, even knowing this, it had planted the image in his mind of you on your knees for Harry, and that was enough to make him feel sick. 

“C’mon Petey, play nice and maybe I’ll consider sharing her.” 

You stiffened at the statement, but only for a second, swiftly working to relax your muscles so Harry wouldn’t feel the way you had tensed. It still sent chills down your spine, though, evoking thoughts of your own past fantasies. 

In the past, Harry and Peter both had played a role in your dreams, their names falling from your mouth with a fervor that would make both of them weak in the knees. You loved them—both of them—and the thought of never having to pick between the boys that owned your heart left your chest feeling tight. 

“You two are being ridiculous.” You coughed out the words, shaking your head as if the action could rid your mind of thoughts coursing through it. 

Your interjection had caused Peter to back down from their little scuffle, his hands raised like a white flag to signal that he was willing to back down from the idiotic banter. He was always so quick to please you, so willing and obedient. Harry, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult, his icy gaze still fixed to Peter—as if daring him to consider the offer he made. 

So, you worked to distract him, a featherlight touch to his forearm, hoping to satisfy his constant need for your attention, your affection. But you hadn’t noticed the way Peter stiffened, unaware of the jealousy that coursed through him at the sight of you reaching for another man. 

It had worked, though, as Harry melted into your touch and let his sight shift back to you instead of his friend. “If you’re gonna force me to drown out the sound of you two being idiots then could you at least play something tolerable? What even is this shit?” You provided a change of topic, hand wildly waving towards the speaker system as you reference the pretentious classical music that blared from it. 

Harry scrunched his nose, shrugging as he spoke, “I don’t know, Beethoven?” 

“You do know that not every pianist is Beethoven, right?” Peter asked, brows raised. 

“Oh my god,” Harry threw his head back, an audible groan leaving his lips, his tone turning quiet as he gestured to the sea of people surrounding us, “who cares? Whatever it is, these old fucks eat it up, alright?” 

You let yourself laugh right alongside the two boys as the conversation shifted to something more lighthearted; your hand still resting against Harry’s arm, your gaze fixed on Peter. Still, though, the remark stuck in your head, replaying on a loop as you considered the possibility of it. 

Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t make you pick at all. 

a/n - here's the deal guys. my harry osborn piece i wrote? did trash in the tags cause apparently none of you are thirsting over dane dehaan the way i am. so now that means i'll be forcibly inserting him into all my peter fics because im in love with them both (i'm not gonna lie though i'd pick harry in a fucking HEARTBEAT) anyways hope you enjoyed this short lil best friend/love triangle/desperate pining blurb type thing

[savnofilter]

Wet Dreamz | Katsuki Bakugo

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Pro Hero!Black![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, mutual (?) pining, hint of infidelity, bakugo & reader are a duo, reader is in their head a LOT, clubbing, grinding, shifty hands mentions of perversion, voyeurism, fingering (m->f), making out, blue balling, mentions of infidelity, slight sero x reader, bakugo & reader are basically playing cat and mouse.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k words (45 mins).

I/B: wet dreamz by j. cole | wired interview w/bts

READ MORE: masterlist + [bakugo & students masterlist]

KEY:

y/n = your name.

l/n = last name.

h/n = hero name.

h/n/n = hero nickname.

c/n= country name.

g/s= grading system.

h/t = home town.

"italics" = words in full quotation marks is indicated as English.

bold = words in full quotation marks is indicated as your native language.

A/N: just because ie didnt want reader to just be a american, i left things like talking in native language to be up to interpretation. almost everything is up for interpretation in this one lol. slowly tryna get used to writing real stories instead of just fuckin. makes me wish ie was doing this earlier because it's actually really fun to think stuff up for stories. not rushing and getting smt out to have it out lol. the lyrics are… interpreted in a different kind of way, sort of play on words if you will. anyways hope y'all like it! i sure did. 🫶🏽 thank you anon!

"Cameras rolling in—"

The camera crew were finishing the set up in the background, the makeup stylists were adding their additional touches and you only had a few seconds to mentally prepare for your filming.

"Three, two …. !"

Snap.

"Hi! My name is Y/N, better known as H/N!"

"And I'm Bakugo Katsuki, also known as Dynamight."

"And we are here with WIRED to answer the web's most searched questions!" You two finished the cut unanimously.

The camera cuts to you as you turn to him with a nervous jitter, still with the joyful appearance you always kept. "I'm pretty nervous, people are wild these days."

H/N.

A hero that represented what it means to be a young, headstrong role model. A hero that was from a country outside of Japan whom Bakugo was immediately infatuated with upon first meeting.

L/N.

His interest in your last name marked your own culture, despite being foreign to him. The name you didn't say as you introduced yourself to the camera.

Y/N.

Your first name that he is always itching to say, practicing day and night how it'd finally roll off his tongue when you two could get to that stage. Today seemed to be that day.

You two had been paired up as a duo for about over a year now for some hero promotions and the chemistry between you two had been gradually growing. Indeed, you did not speak much as you had initially expressed not being confident in your Japanese abilities when you moved to Japan, but he is deeply impressed by your determination to continue learning the language.

"Oh! The boards are in English, I might excel in this." You joke, towards the camera.

"You excel in a lot of things, H/N/N." Bakugo promptly responds and he's just as quick to move on after he pulls up the cardboard and tilts it to the side, ready to officially start the interview off. Your lips purse together as you swallow the budging feeling to crack a smile at the personal nickname. Bakugo always had a knack for nicknaming people, but hearing yours out loud in front of everyone else gave you an entirely different feeling. One you couldn't place.

"Who is in…?" The blonde-haired male tilts the board as he reads it, proving his dexterity as he also rips the label off to reveal the rest of the first search. You could tell he was struggling a bit and you move your head to read it as well.

"Firecracker," You finish off with a smile, sitting closer to the edge of your seat as you look at it. "Although we just introduced ourselves, I'm sure we can spruce it up a little?"

Bakugo takes the initiative with a subtle nod, using his other hand to gesture to you as he introduces you for the repetitive round of introduction.

"This is, Y/N or "better known as" H/N. One of, maybe, only heroes I can tolerate."

You can't help but laugh at his rendition, nodding your head as you adjust yourself in your seat. "The honesty, wow! We have, uh," You turn more to your side, looking him up and down before looking into his eyes. "Lord Explosion Murder: Dynamight? But you may know him as just Katsuki." You look back at the cameras as you finish, a bit of sass as you conclude.

Katsuki.

The way you said it just sounds so much better than when anyone else says it.

An unexpected chuckle comes from him as he teases you back. "I think I liked my intro better than yours." He rips off the next label and turns the board for you to read.

"Who in Firecracker got their quirk first? " You hum and look up at him, face full of concentration now. Bakugo's gaze is completely focused on your face as you go into deep thought, scarlet eyes taking in your change of expressions. His gaze follows your body and takes in the details of your outfit, the volume in your hair, and the way that the makeup stylist (fortunately) did you justice that properly accentuated everything beautiful about your skin tone and features.

Bakugo was starting to like everything about you, and he was starting to crush hard.

"I think I got mine in, uh…" You roll your eyes to the right as you look back at the camera, perking up as it comes to you. "I guess at five years old… you guys would call it during yōchien. For me it's called, "G/S". How about you, Katsuki?"

He's smug in response, puffing up his chest as he looks into the camera with pure arrogance. "Four years old. That means I win this question."

"I didn't know we were competing." You joke back.

He soon peels off the last question for the section, turning the board to him to keep it to himself. "I want to read it."

"Oh, okay…"

"Who is the strongest in Firecracker? " Before he's finished with the question you're already grinning and pointing towards Bakugo. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, throwing the bit of paper on the floor and adjusting himself in his seat, his demeanor flustered if you were paying close attention to him.

"We're both fuckin' strong. Give yourself more credit."

You double-blink as you try to rack something up to say. Bakugo has never complimented you before—at least nothing more than "good work today" or a "nice job out there" or something along the lines of that. You did notice lately he's been more communicative with you, but you chalked it up to the fact that maybe he can tolerate you more now with the fact your Japanese is getting better. Still, you had no compass or direction to tell what he was feeling at any given moment.

To your rescue, an exasperated callout comes from behind the cameras, making you laugh out as well as the camera crew behind the director.

"Watch the potty mouth, Bakugo-kun!"

You give Bakugo's shoulder a light push, immediately going to grab the next board for a visual excuse for your nervous fiddling. "We both know how incredible your strength is! I'm being real."

                     — ✮ ★ ☆ —

The rest of the recording went pretty well, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. It seemed as though the longer the shoot went, the more comfortable you two got with each other. It hadn't hit you until now that you and him never really talked before.

Of course, it's not like you two ignored each other, no, that wasn't the case. But finding out things like what his favorite meal is during a movie, or why he loved hiking so much made you want to learn more about him. He is also much funnier than you had thought.

You were pretty aware of the rabid fanbase that followed him consistently. The fan edits, the stans, the ones who truly believed they were going to marry the young man. The thought made you cringe as you thought back on your first reaction upon hearing that you two were being paired together for this joint project.

"This will be a great opportunity to reach a further fanbase across the globe in countries that love to support their favorite superheroes!" Your manager exclaimed in excitement before wiggling her brows as she nudged you. "And by support, you know what I mean…"

"Financially?" You finished her sentence, an uninterested look on your features.

"Yes! This will be such a big break for you. Think about it -- they see you paired with one of their top heroes. One, they'll think you can keep up with him. Two, this is an opportunity to grow your exposure as a fairly new hero on the scene. But third, and most importantly the country relations." She looked at you with a serious look this time, her gaze strong.

You scoffed at the implications of the "perks". You were sitting still in the comfort of your manager's old office, your unmoving reaction giving her an insight into how you had truly felt.

"Look, I know you like to be on that 'I can do this myself' tirade, but this will look great. For both of you."

"But at the expense of me though," You crossed your arms and looked down at your feet as you couldn't help but feel blindsided. "I mean, you didn't even ask me. I have never been to Japan, and I don't even know this dude. He could be a fucking creep for all I know!"

"Y/N." She said it as a warning for your tone. She sighs and softens up a bit, but still maintains her composure. "This is something that could be good for you. Think about the titles, the awards, hell even the recognition. Isn't that what you want?"

Not when it sounds like that, no. You didn't become a hero and train this much for the fame of it. You weren't an idiot, and you knew that part of the job is to get your face out there. But a part of you feared that you could become a person who would only go for things that will look good without actually doing the part.

"Do you seriously think you'll be some big-shot hero while staying a nobody in here? We need to expand."

You scoffed at her wording, eyes flickering up to look at her in offense. "So you think I can't be successful on my own?"

"Y/N-"

"I get that there isn't much of a demand here, but I feel as though I am fulfilling my duties. I don't need to be famous to make an impact. I like it here."

"You aren't thinking long term. There simply isn't enough demand, and that has to change. I know it's hard but you have to trust me." She reached across the desk to hand you the papers, the gesture not received on your end.

Sasha called out your name as you muttered a dismissal from the meeting. You stood up as you gathered your stuff from her desk, packing up the discarded papers and other supplies. You knew you were being dramatic, but rightfully so. This was never discussed, nor did you ever think you would have to live in a foreign place. It was so painfully random and left field that you couldn't help but feel slighted that such a big decision was already made for you. Especially where foreigners weren't exactly welcomed and that thought alone made you nervous.

That night was hazy if you remember correctly. You didn't have anything to attend to, you just wanted out. You were worried sick about this new endeavor. You would have to say goodbye to everything you had built at home. The community, the friends, the experiences. All for this opportunity. You were an emotional mess and honestly, as you cringe thinking about it now, it wasn't that serious but it sure felt like it. You were only given a year to brace yourself for the inevitable, train, say goodbye to the people you were used to seeing every day, and on top of that, learn a whole new fucking language.

One thing you did remember correctly though was your manager calling you to check up. When it had slipped up that you were currently out drinking and sad about yourself, she hopped in her car and immediately came to your rescue to pick you up before you could do something stupid. The car ride was silent as she didn't want to chew you out then and make you feel any worse than you already did. When the time was right, she had thought up something to say. It was her words that stuck with you that made you start to reconsider this business decision.

"Listen, if I told you, I know that you would say no," Sasha said as she held your hand, voice softer than ever. "But I know you deserve better and bigger than this." She sits up a bit in her chair that sat on the side of your bed and properly tucked your hair back into your hair cover. "It's not because I don't think you're incapable. It's because I know you would stay here in this small town without growing and staying in your ways."

"But I like it here… I like the people. My family is here… the community needs me…" Your voice cracked at the end as tears started to spill from your eyes. "I can't just leave. it's more than the accolades, the fame. I want to make a change and I c-can't do that if I'm not here."

She hums as she brings you in for a hug, a twinge of hurt coming from her. Sasha felt awful seeing you like this, and she was aware that even when in her best intentions her decisions could be harsh. Even if she wanted nothing but to see you succeed, she wanted you to be happy too.

"Listen," She starts as she wipes your tears. "We'll figure something out, okay? You won't be abandoning this place. If I can secure a deal like this, I'm sure I can sway some more from the company to get you happy. Alright?"

You meekly nod, your overflow of emotions never stopping as you can't calm yourself. You were too destroyed to come around to the idea. You were terrified of the turn of options and all the drinking you did that night did not help one bit. You are so used to being well-liked, what would the world offer when you change from a small hero in your H/T to a big international one? To what lengths did you have to keep giving yourself up to make the higher-ups happy? Were you in over your head choosing this path?

These questions were justified, but it all came back to the same common theme: boxing yourself in. If you didn't want to do this, you would've called it quits long ago. But here you were, and even with all the villains you've taken down, this seemed scarier. Nothing is more frightening than putting yourself somewhere you are emotionally vulnerable. And for the lack of a better word, alone.

You'd have to start again, meet new people, start a new routine. How would you be able to adapt?

"You'll have a year and some change before you go over. I've already been scouting for the best Japanese tutors out there." She pulled back when it seemed as though your sobbing had subsided and she smiled. "I'll get you the best of the best and I'll be damned if you're not taken care of."

You nodded wordlessly and wiped the tears from your cheeks. She handed you your water bottle once you sit up, a hand on your back for support.

"So think about it, please. I know it's scary to think about, but this can help you. Seriously." She stands up and tidies up the area before gathering her stuff. "And you won't be alone, remember that."

She smiles before closing your bedroom door leaving you to your muddled thoughts.

Later on, it was revealed that your pairing would have the "organic" formation. You two would be put together for a few big missions and soon enough when the public would notice, that's when the process of being in a semi-duo would take effect. Your manager made sure to stress how it was important the two of you kept your individual identities to cover all basis. No fan will be completely pushed out of their comfort zone while you two could rely on each other when the job needed it. The other part of the deal was that you would be able to work almost more than half of the year in Japan whilst being able to use the other days to visit back to your country and most importantly your home town.

It was a win-win and you couldn't thank Sasha any more than you did when she relayed the news. When recounting it, you can vividly remember the amount of relief that washed over you to the point it made you emotional again. The feeling of embarrassment had also risen to the surface and you profusely apologized about the prior outbursts to the initial news. In manager fashion, she hushed you before reassuring you that it was her job to get her client right and out there. If you didn't have her, you honestly weren't sure where you'd be right now.

But unfortunately, the things you overthought about weren't exactly wrong either. Most of the things that popped up in your head had come to fruition, some worse than others. Being in a duo with a male counterpart was rough. Especially if he was hot young and (seemingly) a bachelor. People didn't like to see their fave with the opposite sex who seemed to be of that same description with the added addition that they don't come from the same background as well.

Recently after the WIRED interview, the fans were starting to come along to the idea much more than it seemed. Many more positive comments were starting to pop up online and now the public perception of your pairing was really starting to kick off.

There was a mixture of comments that ranged from, "Wow! They look so cute together" "You have to admit they do get the job done" to "I fucking hate XYZ" and we don't need to address the vulgar ones…

Of course, at first, you use to read those comments for hours. You'd be stuck on an unhealthy loop, emotions from high to low as it seemed there was never a day that didn't have all kinds of comments and interactions. Some days are better than others, and some days you'd have to force yourself to log off and do other things in your life. But all in all, the interview seemed to be a hit so now both your agencies are scrambling to book more to boost engagement.

You sigh as you stretch out onto your couch, thinking about how two years have been both hell and a blessing. You stare up at your ceiling as your phone locks, setting it on your coffee table.

The idea to message Sasha as you recounted past and recent memories started to poke at you. You still hesitate on the action though considering the fact you know she's always busy with her schedule. You feel a buzz and you pick up your phone, the text catching your attention.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Are you up for going out today?

[->] Sent 13:34.

'speaking of the devil….' you smile and swipe up to correspond to her message.

You

depends. what am I leaving for?

[✓] Sent 13:35.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

I've got a client I want you to get closer with.

Management says it'll be good for you to get more acquainted with the heroes here. You might actually like her.

[✓] Sent 13:41.

You hum in curiosity, thinking about it a bit before replying.

You

who is it?

[✓] Sent 13:42.

Chat bubbles pop up on your screen and you watch as she types up her response. Today you were taking a very much-needed break for the week and you weren't too sure if you wanted to go out and do some crazy amount of networking.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Mina and a few others are in the top 10 for Japan.

You may have met her already, at those galas a few times.

[✓] Sent 13:47.

Your brows quirk up at the name. You're quick to open Instagram, wanting to see a more personal image of her than the one you would see from a search engine.

Oh.

Yeah, you remembered her. She was lively for sure and everyone around her seemed to like her as well. Her page was a mix of official posts and personal ones, perfectly balancing out professional and niche drives to curate an audience. There were even a few posts that were shitposts too.

You were intrigued. Now that you thought about it, you didn't have any friends here… like at all. You spent most of your time focused on work, and if not that, then interacting with your fans in person and online. When you weren't doing either of those things, you were studying Japanese. Surely the studying paid off though with the additional advantage of living in the environment to grasp the content. One could even call your behavior shut-in, but could you blame yourself? Even with your determination to get yourself out there, it was hard. You were still trying to adjust to all of this, and you haven't hit your time mark to visit home just yet. Hell, you can't even remember the last time you got laid.

Your phone dinging catches your attention again and you realize that you hadn't got back to your manager yet.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

So is it a yes? I will be forwarding your number to her.

[✓] Sent 13:56.

You think a bit before coming to a decision but you need a bit more info first.

You

yes for now, but who else will be there?

you mentioned something about a few others.

[✓] Sent 13:59.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Well, I know that Bakugo will be there, but I am not sure who the other people are. Just got in that it's actually not just the top 10, just a few other heroes around the province as well.

[✓] Sent 14:02.

You hesitate at the information on your screen. Bakugo is going to be there? You're not sure why, but a sense of anxiousness starts to flood you as you start to think about him in such a casual setting. You blink a few times as you rub your forehead, now starting to rethink your decisions.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Y/N, you will be fine. I'm sending a car to pick you up at 18:30. Wear something… "cunty" and cute. There might be paps there so look good pls. 👀

[✓] Sent 14:05.

You groan loudly at her text and almost want to throw your phone. Is she for real? Even when you need to go out to meet people, it's still about your image. You wanted to text her your thoughts, but a better part of you knows that this outing is probably for your good. You just hoped that these people weren't controversial and this wouldn't be hard work to clean up anything that comes along with their bullshit. You doubted the idea as you remember how much your agency wants to push you to the public. Anything that could be a blip in your appearance was always scrapped and replaced. They were your last safety net to coast safely in this whole hero-ing thing if you were being honest.

You

Sasha… 😐

"cunty"??? PLEASE.

[✓] Sent 14:09.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

↳ Liked your picture.

🤷🏾‍♀️

Love you, N/N! And stay safe, you know to call me if anything is going on. 💪🏾

[✓] Sent 14:11.

You jokingly send a thumbs down in retaliation to her message, albeit hearting the message as you know she means well. Turning your head to the side, you find yourself staring back at your TV's black mirror. You still had a lot of time left so you decided to at least start prepping for the evening ahead of time.

To prevent the inevitable disruption of hunger, you make your way into the kitchen and decide to get something to eat. You prepare leftover protein to eat with noodles that you've wanted to try all week. It's like when you think of mixing a food combo but take forever to put it into fruition. In anticipation of your ingenious meal, you eagerly await its arrival as the smell taunts you as you wait.

Once it's done you are in no rush to scarf down your food. You even sit down at one of the high chairs on your island with a half-awake presence. It was no surprise that you woke up late today due to the fatigue that comes along with being a pro-heroin. You couldn't even recount the last time you sat down and ate a meal like this. Back in the day (why did you age yourself like that?) when you were in, H/T, you always had enough time to do everything. To experience everything. Yes, you felt blessed to be here even with how hard it's been, but to be able to just sit and relax was a whole new feeling of euphoria you haven't felt in a while. The feeling was pretty nice.

You scoff as you try to think about how things can change so fast. As you blankly stare at your surroundings, you map out the different things you should get to make your penthouse more "homey". It was a very nice and very, very, very expensive place. One that you were definitely not paying for yourself, one that your company took the liberty to do. You have only been able to get the basic things you need for a living space, and only some decorations to truly make it yours. Hell, you even had more clothes than furniture and dishes combined. But that was thanks to sponsors and of course, having to properly ration your paychecks. You had to admit your living space being taken care of for you was an immense help to begin with so you didn't want to complain too much.

Your phone buzzing on the couch successfully gains your attention and you can't help but sigh in annoyance. One thing to also note about being in Japan is that you were practically on call all the time. There was a reason you couldn't leave your phone on silent. You finish up your current bite before hopping down from your chair and trudging your way to your device. You light up upon the contact on your screen. It's an unknown number but the person messaging you makes themselves known in their message.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

hiya! this is Mina!! heard you were coming out with me tonight! 🤟

hope this is the right number lol

[✓] Sent 14:39.

You

Hey! Yes, this is the right number, haha.

My name's Y/N :)

[✓] Sent 14:40.

Mina

your name is SO CUTE! it really suits you <3

[✓] Sent 14:41.

Your heart flutters as you receive the compliment, a giddy grin spreading across your lips as you get more eager to contact her.

You

Thank you! I could say the same for you 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 14:42.

Your thumbs hover over your screen as you try to think of something else to say, not wanting the conversation to die so fast. She hasn't seen your message yet and hopes something comes out of this interaction. Deciding not to stress about it too much, you resume finishing your meal.

So many thoughts run through your mind as you try to prepare yourself for tonight. Even in your hometown, you didn't frequent clubs or bars often, especially not with well-established individuals your age either. It seemed as though Mina was nice enough but you had to factor in the fact Bakugo was going to be there. Then it was also the added stress that other people you didn't even know would be there as well.

You still have no real idea of Bakugo. He seemed pretty reserved, almost goody-two-shoes-like. But honestly, you're sure you gave off the same image as well. Something about him just gave… in the clean. Saying innocent felt like a stretch but you were starting to lean towards that with his mostly clean record. But that could easily be attributed to the fact there was no doubt his agency was probably paying out-of-pocket to keep the shit he does on the low. Maybe you should take it upon yourself to look into him…

Amid your inner thinking, you had decided to clean up the kitchen after your brunch. Having just finished eating, you are now cleaning your dishes. Some dishes were left in the sink and strewn about, but the place thankfully wasn't a pigsty. You rest your hands on the edge of the sink, thinking about the many ways tonight can go before reminding yourself that any time you have tried to predict the future, shit has always gone left field. You hum as you shut the tap water off when you finish and push off the sink to find a towel to dry your hands with. You make your way back to your phone and sit down on one of the high-up chairs as you check your phone.

Mina

this is sort of sudden, but do you want to go shopping with me tonight? figured you don't have that many friends anyways

we can get to know each other!

[✓] Sent 14:57.

Well damn. She ain't have to say it like that. You feel a tad embarrassed at the wording but make up your mind anyway. You itch the back of your neck as you reply immediately.

You

Of course! I would love to. When should I get ready?

[✓] Sent 14:59.

Mina

i figured you'd say yes lol. omw what's your address?

[✓] Sent 15:00.

Your brows shoot up at the late notice and hesitate a bit. You look at the time before deciding to go along with it anyways.

You

000-0000 Shibuya-ku

[✓] Sent 15:03 P.M.

Mina

sweet! will be there soon 😉

[✓] Sent 15:04.

                     — ✮ ★ ☆ —

"Hey!" Mina calls out from her car as soon as the windows are rolled down. "You are so much cuter in person!" She unlocks her doors and gives you a wink as you bashfully laugh at her friendly flirting.

"Thank you, you too." You smile as you get in and adjust yourself. You look around as you get settled and admire the layout. You still have yet to get your license and being driven around could sometimes get tiring.

"I was thinking that we should go to that new store in that big shopping district mall in the district. They usually have cute stuff on sale there." Mina suggests. She expertly pulls off and looks over at you with a grin before reaching over to playfully nudge you. "No need to be so tense around me! I totally get you are probably really nervous. Don't worry, I can get you hooked up." She smirks as she looks back at the road, giving you a small glance before she finishes her thought. "In more ways than one…"

"A-Ah, I'm not too sure about that one." You nervously laugh. "If I'm being honest I haven't done anything at all since I've been here… especially, that."

With the gasp she let out, you would think that you just told her you work for the League of Villains. As she reaches a red light she looks over at you with a shocked look, completely flabbergasted at your admission.

"Are you serious?!"

"Completely."

"Not even joking?"

"I am so serious."

"...how?" She looks away completely in silence and scoffs. "Doesn't matter anyways, we'll get you laid in no time~"

You chuckle at her determination and shake your head. "To be honest I'm not really in the mood for that stuff… I kind of like being by myself. It's way less stressful."

"Well, no one said you have to be committed. A little fun once in a while doesn't hurt."

You hum in agreement and rest your arm on the armrest. Mina wasn't completely wrong, but you were totally out of the loop by now. You had to leave behind all of your suitors and sneaky links in H/T. Even then you were too busy with work. There were moments when you wanted to get out there for some sort of excitement to ease your boredom, but nothing ever came of it. Your desire to relinquish your needs always ends with you, your toys, and your imagination. A bit devastating if you think about it too hard.

The bustling shopping district Nina talked about isn't too far from your place and you have also learned that Mina lived pretty close to you as well. There are so many people moving about; lots of people doing their things and plenty who seemed to recognize you both. Luckily, she knew of some ways to avoid crowds.

By the time you two had made it to the mall, basically half an hour and then some had passed. Mina sucked her teeth as she looked at her phone to check the time, her manicured nails tapping against the screen as she spoke to you.

"Ah, who cares? The place is pretty laid back. Being a little late might make you look cooler."

Mina had persuaded you to stop by her favorite boba cafe near the newly opened stores. And surely after reassuring you a bit, she had convinced you to let her take care of the spending for today (although you decided in your head that you'd pay her back).

She grins at you as she finally puts her phone away to look at the menu board. You watch as she effortlessly orders her usual at the kiosk. You attempted to keep up with her movements but it proved to be a difficult task. This pink-haired girl was much more assertive and bold than you thought she would be. Everything she did was done with such confidence and carefree energy that you felt mesmerized by how she carried herself. Though her bluntness did shock you a bit from time to time. The way she talks to you is like you two have known each other for years instead of the fact you two have only greeted each other in passing at formal events. It was her unique sense of being a girl's-girl that made it much easier to get more comfortable with her.

The wait for the drinks doesn't take that long and soon enough you two are on your way to the clothing store. You admired everywhere around and swore to yourself to go out more often. You hadn't realized all the cool stuff you had been missing by just focusing on furthering your career. You were pretty amazed at how the store you were visiting occupied two whole floors, with another giant store on top of it as well.

You and Mina were separate in the store since you two were looking for different things. You were looking for a new pair of bottoms while she looked for accessories on the floor below. You mindlessly sifted through the clothes on the racks not sure what you were looking for specifically. Periodically you'd look out the window and admire the view outside, the day's sky shifting to a more dreamy sunset tone. The music you couldn't recognize softly played in the background, but the ambiance of the 2000-early 2010s feel certainly encapsulated the store.

You find yourself humming softly to the tunes though, a bit shocked that you could understand some of it. Some songs and artists you could recognize while some seemed to be either Japanese or from a different place entirely. As you paid half attention to the clothes while the other half tried listening to the music, the next artist that comes in makes you stop. You're unmoving in your spot and look around as you listen closely, a smile spreading across your lips as the tune properly makes its way to your ears.

It was a song from J. Cole and shockingly enough it was uncensored too. You lightly laugh to yourself as they tend to do this, playing foreign songs with the cuss words on full blast without a care in the world. You couldn't quite place your finger on which song it was though and it seemed as though the song was about to finish anyways.

Soon enough you can find a pair of pants that would suit the outfit and idea you had in mind have half a mind to try it on. You find your way through the options as the song unfolds, looking at the different clothes on your way to the dressing rooms. You softly hum along to the song although making sure not to be too loud. Lord knows you already stick out like a sore thumb, but god, you did love a good J. Cole song.

As the unnamed song comes to a finish, you are on your way to find the dressing rooms. A courteous attendant asks normal customer service questions before leaving you to be in your presence. It's not long before the next song plays and it so happens to be another J. Cole song, except you knew this song very well.

You breathe out a laugh as the intro starts to play and you have to keep your excitement in. You could hear the song much clearer in this section as it was more closed in than the rest of the other area. Despite the music being clearer now, the faint chatter around did indicate you were not alone, and many people liked this store as well.

'note to self: find the furthest stall to avoid any confrontation with anyone else.' You thought to yourself and continued your venture to the furthest spot.

By the time you had made it to the back, it seemed like there was one last stall at the end of the hall. At first glance, it seemed as though it was empty, but as you grew close, you noticed the door was ajar. You had half a mind to barge in but what you saw in the changing room made you freeze.

A familiar tuff of blonde hair and a toned figure dawning in a dark green tank that complimented his tan skin caught your eye. Your gaze followed the chain that adorned his masculine neck, his strong shoulders were next to fall into view, and his well-defined back that his shirt that perfectly molded to his skin was last. You could see he was hunched over in a position that didn't seem as though he was trying something on, but still moving nonetheless. A soft gasp that's immediately hushed makes you look up and your eyes widen. The sound was way too feminine, and it certainly was not from you. Another noise makes you squint, trying to see what was going on.

"Stop teasing me," She whispers to him and that's when you finally realize what the hell was going on.

Before you could turn around a pair of eyes makes contact with yours through the reflection of the mirror and you suck in a quiet breath at the fact now you have been caught. The reflection of his deep scarlet eyes showed no direct emotion and you couldn't read what he was feeling, much less thinking. His movements continued without faltering though and another soft sound of encouragement followed his actions. One thing was clear and there was no mistaking it: you could see him and Bakugo could see you. You know that you should leave. However, now you are dangerously curious and confused. The worst part is that you were frozen in shock.

Prettily manicured fingers lightly glide over his shoulders and trace his tanned skin before finding its way to lose itself in his hair. You could hear her question what he was looking at before guiding him to pay his full attention to her once again. It's when he breaks eye contact you can finally break out of your trance.

It was at that moment that the song over speakers reached your ears again and the irony that hangs through the air is almost laughable. No longer wanting any part in listening or seeing this go down, you swiftly turn around and walk away pretending nothing happened in the hope to find the furthest stall away from him.

When you find a stall you immediately close the door and throw the store's clothes onto the side. You rub your temples and close your eyes, another sigh leaving your lips for the millionth time today. Much to your dismay, closing your eyes didn't ease the impending headache that was about to hit, nor did it halt the memory of what you just witnessed. Your mind only brought the visualization of what you just saw to the forefront. You purse your lips as it didn't help that her voice accompanied the memory.

'it started off real innocent my ass.' You thought to yourself as that part of the song over the speakers made its way to your ears. When you open your eyes you're met with your reflection in two mirrors and have no other choice but to look at yourself. You felt like you were going crazy and rightfully so! You weren't innocent yourself, no, but have some damn grace. To be so careless like that, you're starting to realize that the coworker you thought you had a general idea of is way off.

But what did this make you? You stood there and watched them. Not for long, but long enough. Long enough that he saw you. Bakugo knew you were standing there and didn't do anything about it. At first, you thought that his expression was unreadable, but the more you thought about it, you had completely missed the challenging look in his eyes.

The piercing look of instigation with a hint of his curiosity. It was as if it was a look of provocation. As if… beckoning you to try something. Or are you desperately trying to justify why you watched two people doing lewd acts to each other while you just stood there in shock? One of them being your partner in fighting against crime.

You harshly scoff and turn around to avoid looking at yourself to hopefully put off letting it run through your head any longer. You start to strip your clothes off and face the door as you get undressed. As your mind starts to clear, you hear the song playing over the speakers and can't help but humorlessly laugh at the fact the song was about to finish. It had only been what? Almost four minutes and this whole thing had you in shambles. It would've been easier to handle if you didn't have to see him so soon—as in literally a couple of hours—but nope, your dumbass decided to go out today. To, "network". To have fun.

After finishing your haul you have long forgotten any songs playing over the speaker and now you just wanted to leave this store without encountering those two ever again, actually. Unfortunately, never seeing them again isn't an option, and making sure not to cross paths with them for now will be quite the challenge.

You slam the door open and accidentally startle the other shoppers due to your outburst. While apologizing profusely you hear a familiar voice call out to you, a wave of relief hitting over you once you realize it's Mina.

"Ready to check out?" Mina asks, completely unaware of what just happened. You wordlessly nod your head as you follow behind her, ready to get out of this place as fast as possible.

                     — ✮ ★ ☆ —

The club's music did not disappoint. Admittedly, you have been to a few clubs here and there that completely sucked. Like… really bad. The clubbing scene is totally different and it was clear that the culture here was adversely opposite of what you were used to. Not to say that every club you went to back in H/T was spectacular, but you could at least anticipate people having a ball and throwing ass. Consequently, you were pleasantly surprised by the one you were invited to since you chalked it up to cultural differences. However, it may have just been that you needed to find places that worked for you.

As aforementioned, you and Mina did end up arriving late but it seemed as though many of the other people in your party were milling about and having fun anyways to pay attention to that fact. You met a few others that your manager had briefly mentioned and had the pleasure to meet.

The first was Momo, a hero that had lots of prestige and was very kind. She often modeled but did other charity work as well. She had offered to put in a good word for you as she deeply admired your beauty. The next was another woman, Hagakure. You had heard about her before, and somehow her outgoing presence and energy rivaled Mina's. The downside though you knew to keep your distance since she seemed a lot more.. chaotic which is why you had already known about her prior.

Then there were the other guys there. Denki who was practically Mina's partner in crime, and another one whose name is Sero. He was pretty chill, not going to lie pretty cute too. He had a level of nonchalant charm that had you intrigued. The top hero of the country who everyone knew and loved was also rumored to make an appearance, but Sero advised you not to hold your breath. It was a whole workaround just to get the top three heroes in a public setting like this even when they could find refuge in the V.I.P section such as this one. It was a miracle that the second top hero—Dynamight A.K.A Bakugo Katsuki—was in attendance that night as well. Women and even men were always trying to find opportunities to throw themselves onto their desired hero, hoping that they'll be, "the one". The thought always made you laugh at the insanity of it all. Throughout the interaction, you did find yourself swayed to chat it up with him. He seemed sweet and Sero was honestly a calm breath of fresh air compared to the vibrant personalities that you have met so far. Even with how well you two were kicking it off, it did feel like something was looming around. Almost as if someone was watching you.

You assumed that you'd be safe on the terrace as there were a handful of people out there too. When you looked around you couldn't see anyone, and it seemed as though everyone was doing their own thing and partying. You're not sure how but at a certain point you two had gotten closer in distance, thighs touching and personal space becoming slim. You'd lean into his ear so he could "hear you better", his calloused hand resting on your knee that touched his and you had to admit that you didn't want it to stop. The small amount of liquid courage was making this easier for you. The alcohol gave you a level of confidence that made your words have a lighthearted cadence to them, much more fluid than when you are sober and worrying if your vocabulary is fluent and with the trends.

"D'you wanna dance?" Sero proposed. There was a playful grin on your face and you were more than welcome to oblige.

"I'd love to."

Both of your bodies are close and you can feel his strong hands on your hips. There is no space in between and there was no mistaking that you could feel his,,, friend down there. But you welcomed it. You even pulled his arms closer and ground against him. It had been a while since you have danced like this and he was cute enough for you to let this continue.

While feeling the rhythm (and his obvious boner and shifty hands) you catch the attention of someone you weren't expecting. You're too into feeling the motions of your environment to properly be stunned but it was no mistake that it was the same guy you vowed to avoid until further notice, Bakugo. You two never break eye contact as you tilted your head to the side, the horny male behind you taking it as a sign to kiss your neck. Your brows scrunch in pleasure as his lips are undoubtedly skilled, his teeth teasing your skin numerous times but not deep enough to leave any marks. Your hands find their way to tangle in his hair, egging him on to continue.

Bakugo's eyes are intense just like you had witnessed in the changing room. It seemed as though he had no plans on breaking eye contact with you and it scared you in a way that he was unwavering. While you cowered coming across him and his presumed girlfriend, he openly stared at you. Another challenging look with confidence oozing from him. Just when a hand starts to wander a little south on your body, he starts to move towards you and now you're starting to get anxious.

Breaking eye contact, you're quick to turn around in Sero's hold, an apologetic expression on your face.

"Too much?" Sero asks, his hand coming up to wipe a strand of hair from your face and you shake your head.

"I have to run to the restroom real quick, okay?" You squeeze his hand before leaving and take a few steps before actively making your way in the opposite direction in which Bakugo was going.

Your eyes search desperately for the bathrooms and much to your relief signs were pointing in that direction. Despite all of the dancing bodies and other people trying to make it around as well, you can find refuge and go into the restroom. You immediately walk up to the sink on the furthest side of the room and place your hands on the ledge of the sink. A deep sigh comes from you as you try to calm yourself down knowing that you were starting to get too cocky outside.

What the hell even was that?

You have had your fair share of rendezvous' and sneaking around, but never have you made eyes at someone's boyfriend or whatever the fuck he was to her. Everything about today was going way too fast, and you were sure you were going to need another drink.

You turn on the water and grab a paper towel to wet, applying the wet paper to clean off your face and skin. You were right about one thing though: Sero was pretty skilled and you wondered how he was able to contain himself and not mark your skin. Had it been any other bumbling idiot, you would've had to be covering up your neck and shoulders with makeup for a good few days or so.

You bend down to catch the water instead, fully committing to the idea that you'll reapply your makeup, if any, before leaving the bathroom to get yourself together. As you try to sober yourself up you hear the door open and close behind you and pay it no mind. The running water of the sink distracts you for a hot minute before it hits you that there was no movement at all after the door had initially opened. You turn off the water and turn around, a sharp gasp coming from you as you fully take in who's at the door.

"Having fun?" Bakugo asks in a tone you've never heard before. It was deeper, a light husk to it rather than his regular monotonous or rambunctious tone. He steps closer and you back up, trying to create more space between you. He scoffs at the action, stepping forward again and watching as you have nowhere else to go. You have no other choice but to watch him slowly make his way up to you, and you aren't sure what to expect.

"Bakugo," You start but fail to continue. What do you even say to him, how do you even start? Your mouth opens and closes as you try to collect yourself making him chuckle.

"Keep going and you might turn into a fish."

His mockery successfully makes you close your mouth and glare at him. Bakugo's calloused hand reaches out and softly touches your neck, tracing where Sero's lips once were. His thumb lightly traces your skin, a low hum in approval at how his work is pretty much unnoticeable.

"You shouldn't be in here." Your voice is low and timid. He grins at your words and places his hands on your hips, pushing you to sit back on the counter behind you. You curse yourself for choosing the last sink in the corner and you curse yourself for responding so easily to his touch. "And we shouldn't be like this either." You try to reason more with yourself more than anything.

He scoffs out a laugh and leans in close to your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "Why not? It's just us."

"But that… girl?" You lightly pull away from him and place your hands behind you to support yourself. His face shows confusion for a split second when he merely pulls inches away from you.

"Camie?" Bakugo's cocky demeanor returns as he slides his hands from your hips to your thighs, parting them enough to fit himself between them. "So it really was you at the store, eh? Didn't know my partner was such a pervert."

The nerve. He was the one who left the door ajar. If anything, you should be calling him the pervert.

"I-I wasn't trying to, you left the door open." You counter back, eyes narrowing in response. He lightly shrugs before moving in to kiss the opposite side of your neck Sero left untouched and places an open kiss on your skin.

"Must've forgot."

A humorless laugh comes from you in reaction to his answer, a soft gasp following in its footsteps. His teeth sink into your skin and you are sure that, unlike your first pick for the night, Bakugo definitely left a mark. You softly whimper as he places his right hand on your waist to press your body closer to his. Your back arches into his and you move your head to welcome his rough kisses, the stimulation undoubtedly reawakening the lust you had on the dance floor. His hand on your hip grips your thigh and slips its way to the middle of your legs, wasting no time pressing the pads of his fingers against your heat.

You moan at the pressure and hurriedly press your lips together in embarrassment. Your eyes are closed to avoid making eye contact with him as you already know he was gearing up to tease you.

"Shit, when was the last time you got fucked, princess?" Bakugo grips your cheeks and forces you to open your eyes. There's no way he expects you to answer with his grip, and you're sure he's not expecting it anyways. "Soy sauce face ain't do it for ya'?"

You look up at him with a dazed and confused look, the look in your eyes making him groan. The nicknames he picked were certainly unique, and you can't quite pinpoint why he coined Sero that; much less what their connection to each other is. He was under the assumption that like him you were actively 'busy' in your free time. You certainly weren't if that wasn't evident with how receptive you are to his touch.

"I'll get you all fixed up, baby," Bakugo leans in close to your lips, "make you forget all about that dunce's face." He finishes the declaration with a kiss, his grip softening on your cheeks and then moving to your neck.

The kiss, albeit sloppy, intoxicated you. His lumps were plump and soft, a hard contrast to his strong and calloused hands that held your thigh and waist. His tongue brushes against your lower lip asking for an entrance and you gladly allow him entrance. You moan as his tongue dominates your mouth, his wet muscle caresses yours with passion.

Your hands now gripped onto his strong shoulders like that other girl once did. You can't help but think about her, your thoughts starting to cloud about the two of them. You pull away as you start to feel guilty, a string of saliva connecting you two as you part.

"What's wrong?" Bakugo wipes the string of saliva away, a soft pant to his words as he collects himself.

"I just can't, Bakugo. You have a girlfriend."

"She's not my girl, not like that," Bakugo reassures, his thumb pressing against your lip before moving his finger to press various pecks against your lips. "I ain't never did this before, but I've had my eye on you for a while." The confession shamefully made you blush. You had always thought he was attractive but never thought deeper about it. Even a few days ago from the WIRED interview you never made the move to ask or even care about getting to know him. But here you were, sitting on a random club's sink with him between your luscious thighs.

Your cumbersome thoughts start to lose their way as he leans in to kiss you again, your worries washing away when his soft lips find yours. His kiss is overwhelmingly commanding and you love it. You were used to guys taking a more passive approach with you and the lack of control his kiss held undoubtedly made you more responsive to him. Even with that distinction from before, the kiss now is more controlled this time and his composure shows he meant business now. His tongue works smoothly against yours and doesn't shy away from wrestling with yours. You were so enraptured by the kiss you hadn't noticed his left hand had slipped into the front of your bottoms, the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clothed cunt making you buck into his hand.

You whimper as he continues his stroking, your hands never letting up their hold on his strong shoulders. His fingers welcome your grinding and he pulls away from the kiss to look down at the spot between your hips and watches in interest.

"Bakugo—"

"Katsuki," Bakugo corrects you and tilts your chin down to maintain eye contact with you once again.

You bite your lip and your eyes flutter closed once he presses his fingers against your clit eliciting a breathier moan from you.

"Say it and I'll put them in, Y/N." He lets his fingers slip down to collect your slick, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing at your entrance before tracking back up to play with your clit again.

"K-Kat," Your jaw locks up at his diddling, a frustrated pout adorning your features as you try to keep up with him. "I—thought you said you haven't done this before, hm?"

He lightly laughs at your accusation, softly shaking his head at your confusion. "Messin' around like this, princess." His eyes flicker down at your movements and softly groans.

"So it's not about me being a foreigner?"

"That too," The question gets a genuine laugh from him, his brow raising in amusement as he slips in a finger whilst he answers. "used to stealing other people's girl's, not the other way around."

"Shit!" Your fingers grip his tank top and you bring him in for another kiss. His experience is clear in the way he maintains his rhythm in both his kiss and fingering your sopping cunt. Bakugo slips in another finger when you start to lubricate more, a lewd squelch welcoming in his digits.

He curls his fingers to find your soft g-spot, his touch delicate but rough at the same time. You were a vocal one for sure and he loved it. When he presses his palm against your once abandoned clit, your sounds let him know how much you appreciated the attention again. You two break the kiss when you both need time to breathe, lips still very much pressed against one another as you two take each other in.

"Katsuki, fuck-"

"You're close aren't you, pretty girl?" He hums and you nod your head in confirmation. He barely reacts when your nails press into his skin, his eyes scanning the way your body reacts to his movements and how unabashedly expressive you were. So many other women were always focused on how pretty they looked and wanted to be prettier and more memorable than the last the young man encountered. You seemed so natural and into it and he greatly admired it. His crush that he has developed on you for some time now was growing for sure and it was all by chance that it was panning out like this. At this point he didn't care if you were using him to get your rocks off, he wanted to see you like this more often.

With bliss written across your face, your orgasm washes over you in an artful visual. Bakugo had grown to love all your expressions and this one by far might be his favorite. Your brows were scrunched as you released, eyes closed and your mouth shaped like an "O". When you opened back up your eyes to look at him, he knew what you were asking for. Bakugo softly sweet-talks you as you come down, his fingers slowing to a stop before pulling from your pants to lick his fingers.

You're a mess, a light pant to your breath as you watch him lick up your essence from his digits. You move to palm his hard-on, but his other hand immediately stops you.

"Fuck me, Katsuki." You mumbled against his lips, the look in your eyes showing nothing but a lustful plea.

"Not yet, princess," Bakugo answers back in the same manner, his lips brushing against yours as a way to tease before pulling away. "Can't spoil you too much now, can I?" He gives you a look over and scoffs at your dumbfounded seemingly fucked out state.

You call out his name as he washes up and leaves you behind in the bathroom.

You sit on the counter and stare at the door in shock. Your body felt like it was on fire. Your panties were now soaked and to add fuel to the fire you were left horny as fuck.

You slump against the corner and roll your eyes in exasperation. You no longer wanted to go back out and the pull to get another drink quickly died once you found yourself getting drunk on lust from what just occurred. You press your thighs together and groan at how Bakugo successfully blue-balled you both. You knew he was hard as fuck too the way his dick pressed against your thigh confirmed it.

You tilt your head to the side to observe yourself and have to admit you look a hot mess. Your eyes are half-lidded, you weren't sure how but your hair was a mess and now your once clear neck is now adorned in marks from Bakugo's rough kisses. You look away from the mirror and begrudgingly hop off the counter, the need to go home and take a shower finally reaching its way to your nervous system.

You

hey girlie, I'm heading out for the night. thanks for hanging out with me! 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 1:24 A.M.

You make sure to text Mina to avoid any miscommunication of you randomly disappearing during the night. You took your time to gather yourself not wanting to leave until you were ready. Once you leave the bathroom, you make a beeline towards the terrace needing to grab your things before having to leave in a cab for home.

"Leaving already?" A male's voice behind you makes you turn around.

"Ah, Sero," You smile apologetically as you properly face him. "I just… I'm not feeling well all of a sudden…" It was a shit lie and you knew it. You couldn't think of a better excuse but it wasn't a complete lie either. After your encounter with Bakugo, you needed to spend the night preferably alone.

Sero nods his head and gives you a warm smile. "I get it. Could I uh… get your phone maybe? Only if you're comfortable."

"Oh!" You light up and nod your head. "Yeah, of course."

After searching his pockets, Sero pulls out his phone and hands it to you. You quickly type in your number right before getting the notification on your own device that your ride is ready.

"It was nice meeting you, Sero." You lean up to kiss him on the cheek, leaving not too long after. It was a bit hard moving through the crowd but you were able to leave, and hopefully, you would be able to go home without any trouble tonight.

But what you didn't know was some people were paying attention and saw that whole exchange.

Quite a few, actually.

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[marvel-ous-m]

An Embrace at the Edge of the World

WC: 509 | Prompt: Edge | Rating: T | Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort | @steddiemicrofic

Steve’s had his fair share of bad days at work. On a scale of ‘bad’ to ‘fucking awful’, he’d label today a resounding ‘pretty shitty overall’. Robin was out for the week- she was visiting family on the east coast- which left Steve to work with Keith, which actually meant that Steve worked alone while Keith smoked and sorted returns in the stock room. To make matters worse, it was two-for-one Tuesday at Family Video. Steve was faced with a steady stream of customers, which led to crowded aisles and the inevitable knocked-over endcap. On top of all that, he got chewed out by an older woman who was pissed about being denied the ability to rent (she had five overdue rentals, so Steve was literally not allowed to rent to her- it was company policy).

By the time he clocked out, he was ready to curl up in bed and have Eddie read him to sleep.

That didn’t happen, though. Steve got home, trudged up the stairs to his room, expecting that Eddie was already up there and strumming on his guitar (as was routine nowadays). Instead, he opened the door to find Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and muffled sobs filled the room.

Steve left his bad day at the door and crossed the room in an instant, taking a seat next to Eddie and wrapping his hands around Eddie’s middle. “Hey, baby. What’s goin’ on?”

Eddie turned, burying his face in Steve’s neck and wrapping his arms around Steve. “’S stupid.”

“No, no sweetheart. It’s not stupid. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie let out a wet-sounding, humorless laugh in response. “I went to the store today and some assholes started harassing me. I should be used to it by now, but… just got to me today.”

Steve leaned back to take Eddie’s face in his hands, inspecting him for any injuries. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Eddie shook his head, his eyes downcast. Steve tilted Eddie’s head up with his hand, smiling reassuringly when Eddie’s wet eyes met his.

“You’re allowed to be upset, Eds. The way that you're treated- most people would leave town the first chance they got if they were faced with even an ounce of the shit that’s thrown at you every single day. You are the strongest man that I know, Eddie Munson. A man that I love more than words.” 

Eddie’s face crumpled, indicative of another round of sobs, and Steve pulled him back into a tight embrace, running a hand through his boyfriend’s curls. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Yeah, Steve had a pretty shitty day. He could put all that aside, though, and be here with Eddie- sit at the edge of his bed, hold his boyfriend close, and remind him how much he was loved. Because in times like these, it’s just the two of them existing in their own little world- and at the end of the day, that’s all they really needed: each other.    

[ryleigh130]

Could you do something with Gaz being like a protective older brother? (Doesn't have to just be Gaz) Maybe after a mission 141 all go out for drinks and when at a bar someone 'hits on' the reader and is making them uncomfortable so the team step in?

Completely fine if not!!! <333

Have an amazing day/evening/night.

-🚁

Beers & Tears - - ryleigh130

Characters- ghost, cap. price, gaz, and soap

Word Count: 1.7k

Relationships- platonic!gaz & gn! reader, platonic!141 & gn! reader, implied! ghost/soap

Warnings- sexual harassment, alcohol, profanity, pet names, gore (mild), 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

Note- first fic in a while let's go! Sorry I’ve been absent for a while. I've been tied up with school but I’m back so let's get this started! As always thank you and I hope you enjoy it!

The evening started off great. You and the other members of the 141 just finished an extremely taxing mission that has left everyone a bit on edge and in need of a break. So, you and the boys decided to have a night out and enjoy a few drinks before the inevitable happens and you get assigned yet another case. 

You now sit across from Gaz and Price watching Soap trying to entice Ghost to go and dance with him. You and Gaz share a knowing look at each other as Soap practically drags Ghost off to the dance floor, all the while Ghost looks like he’d rather be anywhere else then here right now.

“You know, if anyone else other than Soap was trying to get him to dance, he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in an early grave.” Gaz rolls his eyes and gestures to the pair. Price gives him a gentle smack on the back of his head and a stern look, although you can clearly see the affection in his eyes,

“Oh leave ‘em alone you muppet! They deserve to have a good time, especially without you instigating anything” Price scolds while giving Gaz a stern look. You let out a soft chuckle and take a sip from your drink, you’re not a huge drinker but you decided today since you all were celebrating you’d have a few drinks so as not to dampen the mood. You empty the glass and go to stand up,

“Imma grab a refill, be right back” you announce to Price and Gaz, the only indication of them hearing you is Gaz waving his hand and muttering,

“Yeah, uh huh, go ahead [y/n]” before moving back to bicker with Price. Once again you roll your eyes as a gentle smile graces your face and you feel the tension of the last couple of weeks roll off your shoulders, being surrounded by the people you consider family.

You maneuver around the semi-crowded bar, muttering “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” to anyone who you happened to bump into until you finally arrive at the bar top. You take a seat on one of the stools as you motion to get the bartender’s attention, the bartender nods at you and makes a “one moment” motion, to which you nod and play with the rim of your empty glass whilst waiting. 

Whether it be the alcohol affecting your sense of awareness or just the crowd in general, you jump in surprise when a rough, calloused hand lands on your shoulder that you haven’t seen nor heard coming. You look up and notice a tall, lanky man attached to those hands. The man was around 25-30 years in age, he was tall, thin, had black, slicked back hair, and was dressed in a tailored suit that screamed designer labels and questionable taste. He had an… odor that was hard to describe, but it made you want to puke as it hit your nostrils. Nevertheless, you give the man a polite smile and tilt your head questioningly,

“May I help you, sir?” you practically shuddered as you watched the man’s eyes darken and watch as his mouth opened in a smile that could only be described as predatory.

“Oh I should be the one asking you that” The man purrs, “Wow,” he whistles “Aren’t you a stunning little specimen” you watch out of the corner of your eye as the man shifts closer to you, like a predator trapping its prey. 

Unsure on how to react, you look desperately towards Gaz and Price, but they aren’t looking and you can't catch their eyes. You quickly search the crowd to try and find Soap and Ghost but sigh as you don’t see them anywhere. You turn back towards the man awkwardly and give a shaky, unsure grin, 

“Um… thank you? I- um- sorry but I’m just here to grab a drink before I go back to sit with my friends.” You state firmly. Almost like to prove your point, the bartender walks up to you with a friendly smile,

“Hello, what can I get for you!” you nod towards the bartender and push your empty cup towards him,

“Yes, can I get three fingers of rye?” you ask, watching the man next to you out of the corner of your eye. The bartender nods and heads off to grab your drink, meanwhile the man next to you butts in once again,

“I’m Vincent Rossi by the way, but you can call me Vince” The man, Vince, winks at you,

“What’s your name sweetheart?” you cringe at the name but before you can tell the guy to piss off the bartender comes back with your drink and sets it down. You nod thanks and reach into your wallet to pay the man, before you can though, Vince slaps down a few dollars and nods towards you,

“No need love, I’ve got it for you.” you quickly shake your head no,

“I’ve got it. Thanks” you give him an annoyed look but he just shakes his head again and insists. You finally just relent and thank Vince before turning around to go back to your table to meet up with the boys and get away from Vince. Before you can take a step away, Vince grabs your arm roughly and pulls you back,

“Woah there! Where do you think you’re going? I don’t even know your name, beautiful!” You yank your arm out of his grasp and snarl,

“Listen man, I’ve said thank you already but I’m not interested. Sorry dude.” You try to back up again but once again, Vince pulls you back, this time harder. He spits in your ear harshly,

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you realize how this works. I buy you and drink and you… help me out. If you know what I’m saying.” You push away from him harshly and slap the man across his face sending him tumbling into the bar top, not expecting the hit.

“Oh you FUCKING BITCH!” the man seethes as he rights himself and wipes away the blood running down his face with the back of his hand. A crowd gathers around you two as you back away in slight fear as Vince steps towards you with dangerous intent. Suddenly Vince charges forwards in an attempt to hit you, before you can raise your hands to defend yourself, a large figure steps in front of you and blocks the man. You look up and see Gaz absolutely SEETHING with anger. He’s holding Vince’s wrists and breathing heavily as he looks at him struggling against his grip. 

“Gaz!” you yell out in relief. Gaz turns his gaze to you and you watch as his eyes soften slightly,

“[y/n], are you ok?” he asks worriedly, before you can respond Vince spits in disgust,

“[y/n]. So that’s the whore’s name. Should’ve known they’ve already have a fuck toy they can play with.” That sets Gaz off. Vince can call him whatever he wants but when it comes to you, or your reputation, he doesn’t play. Gaz kicks the man in the gut and sends him sprawling across the bar’s dirty, wooden floors. When he’s down, Gaz jumps him, he kicks Vince in any spot he can hit all while cursing him out,

“If I EVER catch you talking about MY kid like that again, I’ll kill you! Is that understood!” Gaz yells while stomping Vince’s knee causing a loud POP to echo through the stunned bar. Before Vince could answer, you feel two pairs of gentle hands on your back, leading you outside of the bar. You look up at Soap and Ghost as they guide you through the crowd and outside where a large armored vehicle is waiting. Before the three of you get in, a pissed Gaz and an equally pissed Price come barreling out of the bar doors, Gaz still struggling and spitting out curses as Price shoves him through the doors.

“What the FUCK Price! I wasn’t finished with the bastard!” Gaz snarls, practically foaming out the mouth. Price snaps at Gaz angrily,

“That is ENOUGH soldier! Stand down! I said, STAND DOWN! THAT IS AN ORDER!” Finally, Gaz snaps out of it and starts to calm down slightly, he notices you, Soap, and Ghost staring and rushes forward. He stops and kneels in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting you for injuries. When satisfied you aren’t harmed he sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you,

“Oh thank god, are you ok kid?” he asks softly as you wrap your arms around him and drop your head on his shoulder. You nod and sigh softly,

“Thank you” You whisper as his arms tighten around you.

“Of course kiddo, I’d do anything to protect you. Anything.” You smile warmly and let out a little sniffle. Suddenly an awkward cough comes from behind you, you look to see Soap, Price, and Ghost standing near the car doors awkwardly. You roll your eyes and walk forward giving them each a tight hug,

“Yeah, yeah, thank you all too” you chuckle. Your smile widens as Ghost ruffles your hair and Price gives you an affectionate look,

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Soap suggests, you nod and file into the truck one by one. As you look out the window and watch the traffic roll by, you smile as you think about how lucky you are to have been blessed with such amazing friends. No. Family.