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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

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I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately.

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.”

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way.

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.”

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie.

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone.

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed.

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island. It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words.

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest.

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face.

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly.

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it.

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

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hoedorokishoto · 4 years ago

Text

MHA Characters when you are pregnant/Dads.

Dedicated to my very best friend who is having a hard time at the moment, and I thought some headcannons of dilf my hero characters would cheer her up.

Eijiro Kirishima

The cryer.

Crys when you are having sex to get pregnant, crys when the test is positive, crys while you are vomiting in the toilet and crys when your jeans stop fitting because of your bump.

Assures you that crying is manly and sticks by that.

Fusses over you as soon as you find out, even putting foam bumpers on tables and corners so you do not hurt yourself or your growing bump.

Is so excited to tell his friends. Calling Bakugo immediately after finding out, the pee was still warm on the stick as he dialed.

Yelled into the phone with just random words that had something to do with babies. No actual sentences.

Watches in awe of your body and how it changes. Loves all the stretch marks that you may grow.

Thinks growing a human is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done. Constantly asking weird anatomy related questions.

On that note says things like, “Babe, can you believe my cum helped make this tiny human growing in your stomach!”

As your due date gets closer, watches you like a hawk. Any slight noise you make, makes him thinks it go time. Already at the door with your bags and your just like “I literally yawned.”

When you do go into labour, he is right there next to you. Holding you close as he sits behind you, holding your legs back, your head rolled back and rested against his shoulder.

“You are doing amazing baby.” “God, I fucking love you.” “You are already the best mum in the whole world.”

Crys as soon as your baby is born, crys with you as he leans his head on your shoulder and watches you and your baby have skin to skin.

You wake up to him holding your only hours old baby. Whispering to them how much he loves them and nothing bad is ever going to happen to them and that they are the best thing he has ever done.

Katsuki Bakugo

Gloats when you tell him you are pregnant. “Of course you got pregnant the first time, I’m the best.”

Even though he leaves the room with the biggest goofiest smile on his face.

The night you both find out he starts sleeping with his arm around you and his hand firmly cradling your stomach.

Wakes up before you every morning and makes you food, then hold your hair back as you vomit said food into the toilet.

Complains to no end. But never leaves your side and rubs your back as he puts a cold washer on your forehead. Wiping vomit and spit away from your face.

“We have to tell that old hag! She has been bugging us about having a brat since our first date.” He would say even though he is beyond excited to finally tell his parents.

“I’ve never been more excited! I knew you had it in ya!” This leads to dinner being over and the two blonds yelling back and forth.

Masaru just sits next to you and offers you some tea as his wife and son bicker. Both of you used to it by now.

You tell all his friends eventually. “Congratulation Kacchan!” “Shut up Deku, don’t talk too loud around my unborn child. I don’t want them to catch being a loser!” Even though you see the small hug he accepts out of the corner of your eye.

Keep his phone close to him regardless of what he is doing. Does not want to miss any videos or picture you might send of you bump. Or in case something happens.

Always brings home snacks that you crave. From gummy bears to celery. You name it he buys it. Again he complains and pretends you annoy him but he would do absolutely anything for you.

Wakes you up unintentionally in the middle of the night by spontaneously putting baby furniture together. Pre parental panic finally hitting him as he hammers different pieces of wood together.

“Tsuki? Are you gonna come to bed?”

“I can’t! I’ve got to get this together and then I’ve got to fireproof everything in case the kid gets my quirk and then……”

“Fireproof? You think it’s just gonna blast its way out of me and already have a quirk?” You laughed.

He smiles, finally calming down. Then gets mad again and says not to make fun of him.

Your due date finally comes and still nothing. Even after eating multiple pineapples, bouncing on many exercise balls and having as much sex as you could manage there was still no baby.

10 days later your water breaks and you rush to the hospital.

The baby getting stuck on the way down. Being as stubborn as their father.

You had to be rushed for a C-section. Katsuki never leaving your side. Refusing to go anywhere even as they prepped you.

He looks very good in scrubs.

He stroked your face as he sat next to your head, the large curtain covering anything too gory from both of you.

Flinches when he hears the first cry, looks into your eyes and presses his forehead against yours.

“You did it Teddy bear. You are so fucking tough.”

Let’s a tear slip as he watches the baby get weighted.

Cuts the cord and watched the tiny little human you have made in awe.

He always though he was born to be a hero. Now he thinks he was put here to do this, be the best dad that he can be for his little brat.

Shota Aizawa

Being a dad falls into his lap accidently both times.

First with Eri and second with your 2-year-old daughter.

You met in the girl’s section of a clothing store, him holding up 2 equally as ugly sweaters and looking very confused.

You and your daughter walked up to him and offered him a hand and the rest is history.

Doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have 3 girls that he adores more than anyone else.

Can’t comprehend that anyone would want to treat you or your daughter badly and makes it his mission to treat you right every single day, so you forget all about the past.

Activates his quirk, his hair floating around his face and watches your daughter yell and laugh as she runs around and gets caught up in his capture scarf, Shota just catching her before she hits the floor.

Let’s both the girl’s braid and put bows in his long hair and blush on his cheeks.

You have photos but have been threatened that if anyone sees them, he will have to take drastic action.

Loves watching Eri and your daughter play together. Singing songs and hugging each other as you dance around the living room.

Takes the girls to U.A. to meet his students. All the students cooing over them, saying how cute they are. Midoriya making both of them candy apples as Mirio picks you both up and puts you on his shoulders.

You both fit it. It’s like you were the missing piece and now he is whole.

Starts to think that maybe it’s a good time to give the girls a sibling.

You agree but, in the meantime, you adopt 2 cats, both of them making themselves at home rather quickly.

Shota will forever be thankful that he picked up those 2 ugly sweaters as he looks at his bed which is currently occupied by his 2 daughters, 2 cats and you. Lightly snoring, small hand over your swollen stomach.

#shota aizawa #katsuki bakugo #eijiro kirishima #mha #bnha #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader

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homoose · 4 years ago

Text

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella��the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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junosartsthetic · 4 years ago

Text

Patching Things Up

Wordcount: 3846

Character(s): Dabi, (Y/N)

Warning(s): Innuendos. Swearing. Mentions of sex. Angst.

Note: This is an updated version of a one-shot I originally posted on my Quotev account.

You snuggled deeper into the blankets surrounding you, your feet tucked under you as you leaned against the armrest. Your eyes fixated themselves onto the T.V. as you flipped through the channels with one hand, the other holding a mug of hot chocolate.

A sudden knocking at the door caused you to pause your channel surfing and look towards the door a little ways away from the living room. You could see the rain pouring outside the window but spotted nobody.

You raised an eyebrow and set your mug down on the side table before standing up, the remote being placed on the arm rest. Your socks slid against the wooden floor as you made your way to the door, covering your robe against your body to keep warm.

You peered out the window and saw a figure, though it was too dark to make out the specifics. You flicked on the porch light.

A young man with jarring purple blotches of skin all over his body held together by staples slouched forward, his hands gripping his side. Blood dripped from it.

You let out a gasp. You recognized him as one of the members of the League of Villains— Dabi.

Your hand went into your robe pocket and you pulled out your phone, getting ready to dial the cops before a harsh knock stopped you. Your eyes met a bright teal as you stared at his face through the window. His gaze was soft, softer than you’d seen from his pictures on the news. It looked strangely familiar.

You slid your phone back and put a hand against the window, tilting your head. What was he doing here? Why your house?

His mouth began to move, and you made out the words, ‘open the door.’

You shook your head.

He frowned. ‘Please.’

You bit your lip before reaching for the handle and opening it. Now, only a glass door remained between the two of you.

You reached out to grab the handle to the glass door, and pulled it open slightly. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ you thought, now holding it open wide enough for him to step inside. ‘He’s a murderer. A Villain. And I’m letting him inside because of some weird nostalgic feeling. God, I’m an idiot.’

He grabbed the edge of the door and used it as a brace as he limped inside. He was soaked to the bone and blood began to drip onto your door mat.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, closing the doors behind him. “I don’t even know you.”

Dabi let out a breathy laugh which quickly devolved into coughing. His eyes held a certain spark to them, and you squinted at him. He shrugged his leather coat off and hung it on the coat rack before kicking his shoes off. “Yes you do,” he replied, now beginning to limp towards your kitchen.

“Hey!” you said, stomping after him. “I don’t know what came over me to let you inside, but you don’t get to prance around my house like you own the place.” You caught up to him and pulled on his arm to get his attention as he was now digging through your medicine cabinet. “And I have never met you before in my life.”

He turned his head to glance at you, flashing you a cocky smile. “C’mon, you really don’t remember me, princess?”

“Princess— ” you shot him a glare— “For, the last time, I’m a knight, not a princess— ” you stopped, flashing back to a vivid memory.

“Okay,” he said, his six year old self pointing at your five year old self with a wooden sword. “Now, you go and be the princess, and I’ll slay the dragon for you!”

You shook your head, crossing your chubby arms. “No! I wanna be the knight in shining armor!”

“But then who will be the princess?”

You smiled. “You!”

He shook his head. “I don’t wanna.”

“Okay, then you can be the dragon, and I can be the knight, and there can be a pretend princess!” You tilted your head, wondering if that would be alright. “How about that…”

“Touya,” you suddenly said, your body freezing up as you backed away from the male who was now taking his bloodstained shirt off in the middle of your kitchen.

He paused, his arms partially behind his head and his shirt halfway off, and let out a soft chuckle. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart began to race as your eyes fogged up with tears. “I- I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing with your life! A villain, really?” You shook your head, wetness now rolling down your cheeks. “Why, Touya?”

He finished pulling his shirt off, revealing the true extent of his scars, and began to dab a cotton ball doused in rubbing alcohol on what looked to be a bullet wound on the side of his stomach, his other hand holding a pair of your tweezers. “The name’s Dabi now.”

“I don’t care.” You wiped your tears away and grabbed the cotton ball and the tweezers before gesturing for him to sit on one of your bar stool chairs. “I need answers. You can’t just— ” you let out a tense breath— “just show up here after all this time!”

He sat down on the bar stool and turned his wound towards you. “Fine, but I’m currently bleeding out, so maybe we should focus on that first, aye, princess?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, nose scrunching up as you examined the wound. You assumed the bullet was still lodged in there somewhere, which meant you had to use the tweezers to get it out. “You’re lucky I care about you, or else I’d throw you back out on the street.”

“Even after all this time, huh?” he said, looking at you as you slowly moved the tweezers towards the hole. “I thought you’d be pissed as hell and punch me in the dick or something when I showed up here.”

“Oh trust me,” you replied, shoving the tweezers in the wound rather harshly before gripping the bullet and yanking it out, making him flinch and curse in pain, “I am definitely pissed and will not hesitate to punch you in the dick.”

You placed the bloody bullet in the sink and quickly grabbed some gauze and cotton balls, wrapping the wound and creating pressure on it. You had to wrap your arms around his torso to properly secure the gauze, and fought the urge to blush. ‘I shouldn’t be this close to a cocky shirtless villain.’

He laughed, but said nothing else as you finished tending to his wound and proceeded to back away, putting your hands on your hips. “Alright, I doubt you’ll die, so now tell me what the hell is going on.”

He stood up from the chair and began heading back towards your bedroom. “Let me take a shower first, then we’ll talk.”

You let out a groan. “Fine, don’t get blood on my white towels, moron.”

He turned back to flash you a stupid grin before opening your bedroom door and shutting it behind him.

You sat on the loveseat to wait, and eventually heard the water kick on from the master bathroom shower. It took another fifteen minutes for it to kick off.

You turned towards your room door, ready to scold him again for showing up out of the blue, but the words got caught in your throat.

He opened the door, a towel in his hands as he rubbed the water out of his hair, his lower half sporting a towel skirt and nothing else.

You tried your best not to pay attention to the way droplets of water rolled down his chest, and made their way between each and every muscle before disappearing into the towel wrapped around his hips.

You attempted not to notice how attractive his hair still was, despite being dyed black now, or how hot you still found him despite his new scars. They simply added more character to an already completely one of a kind person, and you bit your cheek. ‘God, why did I have to fall in love with him, and why am I still in love with him?’

His voice broke you from your thoughts. “Are you done staring? I’m fuckin’ freezing. You got any clothes that would fit me?”

You cleared your throat and patted your cheeks in an attempt to quench the redness. “In the bottom drawer of my dresser should be something. Just put your old clothes in the washer in the bathroom.”

He gave a mock salute before walking back inside, a water puddle now on your floor from where he once stood.

Standing up, you moved to your kitchen to grab a rag before wiping up the water, going to clean the blood off your entryway, as well. ‘God damn it, Touya.’

After another five minutes, he walked out in a familiar pair of sweatpants and a band tee, a smirk on his face. “You kept my clothes? D’aww.”

“Shut up and sit down,” you muttered, face flushed as you gestured to the couch across from the loveseat you sat in.

“Okay, fine,” he replied before heading to the loveseat and picking you up bridal-style, sitting down and proceeding to set you on his lap. “There.”

You let out a vaguely offended noise, flustered. “Hey! Just because we dated way back when we were teens doesn’t mean you can come in here and pretend like you didn’t disappear for years!”

“Why not?” he replied, leaning back in the chair and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. He was warmer than you, despite just taking a shower, and you assumed his quirk kept him rather hot.

You shook your head and attempted to lean forward, only to get pulled back once more. “Because, how do I know you’re the same person you were back then? What happened, Touya? Last I remember, you were nineteen and living with me, and then you suddenly vanish and never come back! You can’t do things like that!” The tears you shed in the kitchen returned full force, choking you up.

“I told you, the name is Dabi now,” he mumbled, placing his chin atop your head and letting out a sigh. “And I have no excuses for what I’ve done. There’s nothing I can say to change what happened. I— ” he took in a breath, his normally cocky exterior shattering to reveal the true pain underneath— “I’m sorry, princess— no, (Y/N). I’m so fucking sorry.”

You heard his voice crack, and felt drops hit the top of your head. Neither of you spoke, just letting out all the bottled up emotions of the past few years.

Eventually, you managed to stop crying long enough to pull your head away from his chest and look him in the eyes. He was already looking at you. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek, rubbing the purple skin which covered the lower half softly. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You began to tear up again. “Is this my fault? Did I push you over the edge?”

He immediately placed a hand atop yours, his other one hugging your waist tightly. “No!” he yelled, before clearing his throat. “No… You had nothing to do with this. I just— I snapped. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take him. He constantly reminded me I wasn’t good enough and I didn’t— ” he heaved out a breath— “I didn’t deserve anything, much less someone like you.” You knew exactly who he was.

“Touya…”

“I told you— ” you used your other hand to hold a finger to his mouth.

“Hush. You’ll always be my Touya.”

He gave you a half-hearted smile which turned into a playful smirk. “Your Touya?”

You flushed. “Yes. You never broke up with me so technically we’re still dating, and you’re still my Touya.”

He let out a soft snort. “God, I missed you,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb against your hand before leaning forward.

You moved the finger against his lips to cup his other cheek, and copied his movements.

Despite the roughness of his lips, the kiss was soft, and you could feel the old spark between you re-ignite.

When you pulled away, his eyes were closed and he had a smile on his face. “I missed that, too.”

You laughed.

The beeping of a cell phone brought you both out of the moment, and he looked towards his jacket still hanging on the coat rack. “I need to get that, it’s probably that dick Shigaraki.”

Your expression dulled. ‘Right, he’s a villain now.��

He gathered you up in his arms before standing up and placing you back on the loveseat. He trudged to his coat, pulled out a phone and read the lit up screen. He glanced at you.

You looked at him. He turned away, typing out a response before heading back towards you. “Are you leaving?” you asked, voice strangely monotone.

“Not yet,” he replied, picking you up again to return to his original spot. “I told him to shove it for now.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for that? I don’t want you getting punished because of me,” you said, voice now conveying your sadness.

He shrugged and cuddled you closer, one of his hands reaching for the cup of hot chocolate on the side table to take a sip. “I don’t care. I’d go through the worst of whatever the world has to offer to stay like this,” he said, voice honest and content and sounding much like your Touya.

The person before you now wasn’t quite like the Touya you knew, nor the Dabi, he was an odd combination, but you didn’t care. Your long lost lover was now back, and that was good enough for you. Sure, it might be wrong to still be in love with him, despite all the awful shit he's done since he's been gone, but you can't help it. When you love someone, you never really get rid of that feeling.

You closed your eyes and began to drift off to sleep, but not before feeling a goodnight kiss against your forehead. You smiled. ‘Yeah, definitely good enough for me.’ You awoke to the smell of something burning, and your eyes quickly shot open as you tumbled out of bed. Your back hit the ground as you let out a groan, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes.

Flashbacks of last night flashed in your mind and you shot up from the floor and ran to the kitchen.

Smoke filled the kitchen, and you slid open the window above the sink for some fresh air.

You spotted Touya amongst the fog, a pan filled with bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove.

You nudged his shoulder and gestured to the smoke-filled room, coughing. “What the fuck are you making over there, fire?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve made you breakfast, alright? Give me a break,” he said, turning off the burner and sliding the bacon and eggs onto two different plates.

You closed your eyes for a moment. “You didn’t have to— I didn’t ask you to. Honestly, I thought you’d have left while I was asleep.”

He grabbed both plates and set them down on the bar counter before sliding into a seat. “Do you want me gone that bad?” he asked, smirking.

“No! I— ” you cleared your throat— “I mean, I just assumed you had villain things to attend to and such.”

He let out a laugh. “Villain things? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, puffing your cheeks out in anger. “I just meant I didn’t expect you to stay. It still doesn’t feel real. I— I thought you were dead!” Despite you trying not to, you started to sniffle, making him frown. “It feels like you’re back from the dead! I attended a funeral for you! I said my goodbyes and yet here you are!” At this point, tears streamed down your face as you held your arms against your chest. “I can tell you want things to go back to the way they were, but that can’t happen! Things have changed too much…”

He stood up from the stool and walked over, wrapping his arms around you. He smelt like burnt food, and you let out a small laugh. He was trying his hardest to win your affections back, but you couldn’t help but hesitate. “Nothing I can say will ever make what I’ve done okay— I know that. I just— I can’t just walk away now, either. You’re the only person I have left who knows I’m still alive, and I’m still in love with you, (Y/N).”

You buried your face into the old band tee he was wearing, moving your arms to wrap around his waist tightly. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, but what if you leave today and never come back?”

He moved a hand to softly grip your chin, and brought your head up to make eye contact. “Look at me, princess, I won’t abandon you, not again. Not ever again.”

Your lips formed a hesitant smile. “How can you say that? You could die and I wouldn’t know. I hate the fact that you’re a villain, Touya. I hate it so so much and I— I wish you could stay with me forever instead of going back there.” You shook your head, pulling away from his grasp and taking a seat on a stool. “But I know that this is a choice you made for valid reasons, and I couldn’t ask you to drop everything. Let’s just— I guess, enjoy the time we have now, and figure everything out later.”

He took a seat beside you, and you two ate in silence. Everything tasted vaguely like smoke, and you let out a sigh. He still sucked at cooking.

“I moved you to your bed, by the way,” he spoke up in between bites. “I slept on the couch.”

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes. “My bed is more than big enough for two, moron.”

“I see your caring nicknames haven’t changed,” he said, grabbing both now-empty plates to bring them to the sink. “Would it hurt to call me something nice for a change?”

“Oh sorry,” you said sarcastically. “What names should I be calling you?”

He looked over his shoulder, hands still scrubbing the dishes. “Oh, I don’t know, your knight in shining armor, babe, sweetie, the best sex you’ve ever-”

You interrupted his monologue by throwing an apple from the fruit bowl at him, face red. “Shut up… moron.”

He frowned. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be, now stop cleaning the dishes like you live here. I can do it.” When you got up and attempted to push him aside, he didn’t budge. “Would you just sit down, moron? I got it!”

“No.”

You let out an exasperated sigh before grabbing him by his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Would you just sit down, babe? I got it.”

“Better, but no.”

You smacked his chest before crossing your arms. “I’m not saying the last one, now move.”

He opened the dishwasher before placing the dirty dishes inside. “Too late, I’m already done.”

You simply threw your arms up in surrender before trudging to the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

Within moments, a body was next to you. You glanced beside you to see Touya sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring boredly at the black television. “What now?”

“I’m assuming you now have to leave, being that you told your superior to shove it last night and they’re probably a bit pissed.”

“You just can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?” he said, annoyance lacing his tone.

“Okay, fine, get in trouble, see if I care.” You pouted, bringing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them.

You felt him wrap his arms around you. He kissed your ear. “Let’s do something. I’ll leave soon, just not yet.”

You pushed him away. “Like what? By the time we figure out where to go you’ll have to leave.”

“Who says we can’t do something here?”

You rose a brow, which prompted him to pull you into his lap, his lips quickly meeting your neck. You flushed red, a shiver going down your spine at the coldness of the staples against your skin. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and your first idea of something to do is fuck?”

He pulled away. “Uhh, yeah?”

“Wow. Classy.” You stood up, despite his grip on your waist telling you not to, and turned to face him. “We should go on a walk.”

His face fell. He blinked at you. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Like we used to do! I miss walks.”

He sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “You sound like a dog, but alright. Only for you.”

You smiled and went to put on warm clothes.

Eventually, you two made it outside dressed in fall clothes. After last night’s rain, puddles formed on the sidewalk and you stepped in them as you walked, observing the falling leaves.

Your arms were wrapped around one of his, one of your hands holding his. A sense of Deja Vu washed over you, and a light blush permanently dusted your cheeks. Having him back, even for a day, made you happier than you’d ever been before, and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

After walking only three blocks, a ping sounded from his pocket, and he looked at the screen of his phone before scowling. “Damn it.”

“Hmm?”

“I gotta go.”

You stopped walking, giving him a sad smile. “Oh. Do you know when you’ll be back? I’ll sorta miss you.”

He laughed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before smiling. “I’ll sorta miss you too, princess. I’ll be back as soon as I can, just don’t assume I’m dead, alright?”

You smacked his arm. “That was one time! And being you were gone for years, I had a right to!”

He grabbed your wrists, pulling you in for a hug. “I know. Just— wait for me. I promise you I’ll be back.”

You slipped out of his grasp and stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You better be, moron.”

After a last kiss goodbye, he shot you a wink before beginning to trek forward, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a soft smile and tears in your eyes.

‘God damn it. I just had to go catch feelings again. Stupid Touya. Stupid me.’

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. “If he doesn’t come back alive, I’ll kill him.”

With those words, you turned to walk back to your house, leaves crunching underneath you.

#I wrote this like two years ago and honestly its better than anything i could write now #lmfao #fanfiction #more than 3000 words #mha #my hero academia #dabi #touya todoroki #also the funny part about this fic is that i wrote it before it was confirmed in the manga that dabi was a todoroki lmao #also im behind in the manga so dont roast me #x reader #fanfic #mha x reader #dabi x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #reader #my writing

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writtenjewels · 3 years ago

Text

Escort part 3

Part One, Part Two

He couldn't believe he just did that. If the feel of John's lips wasn't so fresh on his own, Kaidan would wonder if he had just imagined it. But no, he definitely kissed John and then panicked and jumped into the nearest taxi. He felt ridiculous but asking the driver to turn around seemed almost worse so he sat in the car and waited to get home.

This evening was just supposed to be hanging out with John like they did the first time the man acted as his escort. They flirted a bit but Kaidan found he was comfortable doing that with John. There was something friendly and teasing about it. And he just liked talking to John. The man was interesting-- confident, charming, funny, easy-going. Attractive qualities in Kaidan's mind.

I don't get paid to be attracted to you. Kaidan didn't usually go into these sorts of things so impulsively, but he had then. He sighed, paying the driver as he got out of the car. Hopefully John would just forget about the whole thing. When he opened his door Kaidan found he had a message waiting for him.

Kaidan, you left in a hurry. Wanted to make sure you got home all right. J

He looked at the time stamp and saw that John sent it while Kaidan was in the taxi. He didn't know where the man lived but didn't think he could've possibly gotten there that quickly. John must have used a public terminal to send the message. Kaidan stared at the words a long time trying to think of how to respond.

I'm home now. Sorry to worry you.

That was simple enough. He needed to do something to calm down, though. He started with undressing: removing his shoes, pulling off his jersey, and setting the kettle to make some herbal tea. He heard a chime letting him know he had a new message.

It's all right. You aren't the first one to panic.

Great. Not really the impression he wanted to leave this on. But Kaidan couldn't really explain what happened to himself, let alone John. Maybe he did panic, but not for the reasons John was implying. Kaidan's sexual preference never really depended on gender; he was more attracted to personality. If he had to pin down a reason, it was because it hit him just how often John was probably kissed. And there was proof right there in the message: “You aren't the first one to panic”. Meaning John was kissed before by guys who ran for those other reasons.

I didn't pay you.

There, that felt safe. The tea was ready so Kaidan poured a cup and took a sip. The warm liquid felt soothing. He got through the whole cup before John sent a new message.

Feed me and we'll call it even.

Kaidan laughed at the words. Yes, he could do that, and he sent a message saying as much. He poured another cup of tea feeling like maybe this evening wouldn't become a complete disaster, after all. John sent him another message. Was he just sitting somewhere with a public terminal? Or maybe between the messages he made it home, after all. Kaidan opened the message and his heart stopped.

Coming over.

Shit, John was coming now? That wasn't what Kaidan meant! He almost sent a message telling John not to come but stopped. It was just a meal; they did as much already. Kaidan took a breath and hunted down something to put on as he had no intention of welcoming John in his underwear. He felt decently put together by the time he heard the knock at his door.

“Nice outfit,” John commented when Kaidan answered the door. It was really hard to tell if the man was teasing or being sincere. Kaidan stepped aside to allow him entrance.

“I hope you like stir fry, because I haven't been to the store in a while.”

“It's fine.” John settled on the couch. “Mind if I turn on some music?” Kaidan waved his permission and John started messing around with the audio system. He eventually settled on something he liked. Kaidan listened as he threw together some things for their stir fry.

“That's a nice song,” he mused.

“It's called 'Vigil',” John told him. “It's one of my favorites.” Kaidan let the music drift over him as he cooked. He felt even more ridiculous now for running off. Being around John was so easy. It was the reason the man came to mind when Kaidan ended up with the extra ticket. A few more songs played and the two silently listened. But to Kaidan it didn't feel like an uncomfortable silence.

He divided the food onto two plates and poured some water glasses. He set them up at the table across from each other. A new song started playing.

“What's this one called?” he wondered.

“Ah.” John froze halfway into his seat. “I'm not sure.” He sank down and became very intent on eating. Kaidan listened thoughtfully. There was something about this song he couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to make note of the tune so he could look it up later. “You're a good cook,” John spoke up.

“Don't get home-cooked meals often?”

“I'd say never. I never knew my parents so no 'home' growing up, and I've lived off military rations ever since I joined the Alliance. Except for when I'm on shore leave and then I just go out.”

“You're an orphan?” John had said it so casually that Kaidan felt expressing any sympathy wasn't necessary. “Where did you grow up?” he asked instead.

“The streets, mostly. Didn't always have a roof over my head. It's still a little weird sometimes when I'm off-duty and I can just go to the same place to sleep.” Kaidan took a bite to save himself from trying to find anything to say to that. “Sorry,” John apologized, “I don't usually get so personal with people.”

“Why not?” Kaidan wondered. “They get pretty personal with you, don't they?”

“True,” John agreed. “Just makes the job easier.” Kaidan mulled this over while they continued the meal. He gathered the dishes when they were done and set them in the washer to clean.

“So,” he ventured. “Have you ever dated someone? I mean, without being paid?”

“Sure. I wouldn't really call my first sexual experience a 'date'; just messing around with another street kid. Had a girlfriend when I first enlisted. Then I was with this guy for a while. Neither of them were very serious. I'm liking this one so far, though.”

“This... what?” Kaidan blinked at him.

“The date,” John clarified. Kaidan gaped at him. Was John teasing him? “Kaidan, you asked me out and kissed me. It's been a few years but I'm pretty sure that's a date.”

“It wasn't... intentional.” But shit, John was right. John shifted a little closer while still giving Kaidan some room.

“I won't do anything you don't want, Kaidan. But I would like to kiss you goodnight.”

“All right,” he agreed, though he didn't want the evening to be over already. John leaned into him and pressed their lips together. His mouth was just firm enough for Kaidan to feel the shape but soft enough for him to move his own lips in response. This time the contact lasted as their lips moved against each other in a gentle exploration.

It kept going, breaking only long enough for them to take quick breaths. Kaidan tried not to think about the other people who kissed John like this before. This night was his. He was a little surprised John was still keeping a distance between them. Kaidan rested his hands on John's arms, moving them down to the man's wrists and pulling his hands forward to touch Kaidan's body.

“Kaidan,” John breathed. “I'm prepared for you if you want me.”

“You're 'prepared'?” Kaidan echoed.

“To be fucked. Sometimes my clients--”

“John,” Kaidan interrupted, “I really don't want to hear about your clients right now.” John gave him a soft peck on the mouth as apology and they fell into the embrace again. “You were hoping I would want to fuck you tonight?” Kaidan asked after a few more minutes of kissing.

“I thought about fucking you, too,” John admitted. “Whichever way you like it.”

“Which way do you like it?” Kaidan countered. He moved his lips to brush the stubble along John's jaw. The other man tilted his head up slightly and Kaidan moved his mouth lower. John let out a soft groan and shuddered slightly.

“Kaidan.” This time he said the name in a groan. “I want you to fuck me, please.” Kaidan paused the kisses, pressing his face against the crook of John's neck. There was no denying a part of him wanted to.

“Just kiss me, John.” He felt the man's fingers gently grip his chin and lift his face up to do just that. John was such a good kisser. Of course he is. Kaidan felt a slight shift as he bumped up against a cabinet. They hadn't even made it out of the kitchen yet.

“Couch?” John suggested. Kaidan let out a hot breath.

“Do all your goodnight kisses take this long?”

“I thought you said you didn't want to hear about my clients,” John hummed. His eyes met Kaidan's, the shade of those blue orbs looking slightly darker. Kaidan swallowed and closed his eyes so he could think properly.

“Yeah. I... I'm just nervous, and I was teasing you to lighten the mood.” He felt John's fingers touch his chin and tilt his head for yet another kiss. He could get addicted to that.

“To be honest, Kaidan, I'm keeping this going because I don't want the night to end.”

“Me neither,” he gulped.

“So couch?” He made some sort of noise that John must have taken as agreement. Still holding Kaidan, John maneuvered them over to the couch. Kaidan sank down onto the cushions and John immediately slid down in his lap, fingers pushing through his hair as their lips connected again. Shit.

“Slower,” Kaidan gasped. John slid back off again without protest and they resumed from there. “I'm not ready for that yet.”

“Lucky I like kissing you,” John commented. Kaidan laughed shakily. John grinned and tilted his head back in a silent plea. Kaidan still didn't want to think too much about John with other people, especially fucking other people. He pressed his lips against John's throat and worked the flesh so the marks he left behind stood out just a little more.

#kaidan x shepard #kaidan alenko #mshenko #mshepard #au

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osamiiya · 4 years ago

Note

*throws confetti* Congratulations on 200!🎉🎉 Can I have Sakusa scenario 4 with the song Turning Out by AJR? Thanks so much🥺💖

Ty so much of COURSE you can 🥺🥺

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Scenario: #4 Realizing you're in love with childhood best friend c/h

A/n: This has become a primarily Sakusa blog and I'm not complaining. Also the music video for this song made me so soft 🥺

You had always cared for Sakusa, being neighbors meant you saw him often, growing up with his germaphobic tendencies and what he was and wasn't comfortable with.

Parents would talk about how the two of you would make a great couple when older, much to 7 year Old Sakusa and your disgust, because ew, cooties.

Growing older you slowly noticed how sharp his features were getting, and how tall he became.

He wasn't ugly that's for sure.

Once highschool came you assumed that what you were feeling was normal for best friends, of course you would get heart flutters when he would adjust the mask on your face, or lean into you on the subway when a stranger sat next to him.

It was all normal, yeah, you didn't love him. There's no way, growing up you saw the movies and tv shows. You would know if you were in love.

And so you continued going to his games, walking home with him and listening to him open up and talk about the service ace and the no block spike he got in. You would occasionally give your input, talking about how the crowd screamed his name when he scored.

His ears turned red and he cleared his throat.

"Did you cheer?" His eyes are sparkling, still basking in today's victory.

"Of course I cheered." You deadpan, swinging your arms slightly to get warmth in them.

Sakusa smiled, looking up at the sky, stars starting to appear as night falls.

He looks over at you as you shiver slightly, forgetting to bring a coat and not knowing that it would get this cold in the evening.

Sakusa stops and takes his team jacket out of his bag, his face flushed when he holds it out to you.

"It's kinda sweaty, but it should be enough." He's clearing his throat, clearly embarrassed that he only has his sweaty jacket from earlier on him.

You grin and take it, putting it on immediately feeling warmer, and it wasn't just your heart warming at the gesture.

You shift on your feet slightly "Thanks Kiyoomi." He nods and continues walking, making you jog to catch up.

'Stupid long legs, stupid handsome face, stupid pretty curls that fall into his face just right and-" You stop suddenly shocked at your train of thought.

'Of course I'd think he's pretty, he's my best friend.'

You shake your head and jog to where Sakusa's stopped in front of your house, flustered slightly as you begin to unzip his jacket.

"Um, no you can keep it for now. Give it to me tomorrow." And with that Sakusa stiffly smiles and walks next door, allowing himself a glance at you before heading in.

"That was weird." You mumble to yourself, walking to the washer to put the jacket in.

The next morning you carry his jacket while wearing your own. Originally you had planned to wear his jacket, but didn't want others to think you were dating when in fact you were just best friends.

You don't catch the slight disappointment on Sakusa's face when he sees you not wearing his jacket, but Komori does, and he nudges Sakusa slightly, the latter scowling under his mask as you approach.

You hold out the jacket with a smile and thank him for letting you borrow it, and with that you speed away, not wanting to think about how you had slept in the clean jacket, embarrassed that you did that even though it was cold.

In class Komori's leaned forward from where he sits behind you, ignoring the glance that Sakusa gives him from across the room.

"You're in love with him aren't you." You jump at the sudden noise in your ear, and glance to the teacher, thankfully she didn't see anything.

"No I'm not we're just friends." You harshly whisper back, taking notes on what the teacher is writing on the board.

"But do you get butterflies when you see him? How about your future? Do you see him in it?"

Sakusa's eyes narrow when he sees you stiffen at Komori's words and smack his shoulder, his cousin laughing quietly.

He wants to ask you about it after class but you're gone before he can ask and Komori won't tell him either.

It's only later after practice when you catch him outside the gym do the puzzle pieces fit together.

"I'm in love with you." You breathe out before holding your breath.

Sakusa smiles and pulls his mask down to his chin.

"I've always been in love with you."

---

Permanent Taglist:

@sachirou-senpai @prayerofthehaim

#omiomi's 200 follower event #sakusa scenarios #sakusa Kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa Kiyoomi fluff #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader

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sorryimanon · 4 years ago

Text

A Bit Stir Crazy: Pt 2

(Note: I tried to challenge myself on writing smut. It is not my strongest field, but I had fun writing this. Enjoy.)

Warning: 18+

After the embarrassing confrontation the morning of day 16, you found yourself even more on edge. Anything relating to eating, sleeping, and hygiene wasn’t on your mental critia for the rest of the day. Your mind was set on one thing only. Katsuki.

Childish as it is, you didn’t mind lying down in bed daydreaming perfect scenarios of you and Katsuki. Sometimes you’d catch yourself clutching to the nearest pillow , pretending it’s him you’re cuddling . Pathetic. Thank god he didn’t have a telepathy quirk, or else you’d be packing your shit by now. You were in the middle of a good daydream when all of a sudden you hear the painful sound of hardwood being dragged across the floor. It was coming from Bakugous room. Blocking out the sound was impossible, it kept going on for another good 5 minutes. What the hell is the doing in there?

The temptation to yell at him to keep it down was immeasurable, but you were still skittish to show the mere sight of yourself to Katsuki again. For the next hour, you stared blankly at the chipped ceiling, listening to your roommate rearranging the entirety of his small ass room. How could you blame him though? This quarantine has made nearly go ludicrous due to boredem. Some were sadly succumb to becoming stir crazy, which you weren’t denying could possibly be you by now. You also noticed your hormones were more off the rails. Every hour you had the weird inkling to touch yourself. or just once in awhile brush up against the pillow you were holding. You couldn’t help it. No physical or social contact from the outside world for the past 16 days.

Evening struck and you haven’t eaten anything all day. The cereal from this morning made a surprise visit not long ago, causing your appetite to dissipate completely. Although, you did want to get your hands on the left over pizza Katsuki ordered last night. You were about to get up when you heard two loud knocks coming from your door.

“Hey dumbass, don’t think I didn’t notice you not eating all day. I made you some soup since you’re lazy to make something right now.” He sounded agitated, but you knew better that he meant well. “I’ll leave it by the door since I know...you...tch. Just fucking eat. If you don’t I’ll make you okay?”

And with that he left, making it clear for you to hear the door to his room close. You waddle over to the door and open it quickly, scooping up the piping hot bowl of soup. You hate to admit it, Katsuki makes a pretty damn good soup. A little spicy though.

Later that night, you laid on your back, toying with the hem of your panties. The muscles in your arms restricting you from going any further. A sick punishment really. You needed some relief, something to get this feral feeling out of your system. Touching yourself wasn’t a foreign feeling. You had a boyfriend to handle the task for you. Note, had a boyfriend. He randomly stopped texting you one day and after that you assumed he didn’t find you attractive anymore. Which sucks because he was great in bed.

Now it’s been almost a year without any form of sexual pleasure from another person. The thought alone made you groan out loud. I am such a fucking loser.

Your fingers itched closer as the minutes ticked by. Just do it, Katsuki should be asleep by now. With a quick glance at your clock, the red numbers 10:30 stared right back. You sighed in relief remembering that Katsuki has been keen on knocking out by 9:00. The sudden burst of confidence caused you to finally plunge your hand into your panties. The feeling of your index finger brushing up against your clit made your whole body shiver. Oh, it definitely has been a year. Making sure there was no evidence of anyone being awake in the next room, you rubbed the very sensitive bud with a slow and teasing motion. You wanted this session to last a while, so you stopped rubbing and dipped your middle finger into the hole. A soft moan escaped your mouth, with which you quickly slapped your mouth with your hand, trying to cover up any lewd noises you might emit.

10 minutes have past and you haven’t climaxed yet. You were starting to get tired of fingering yourself, noticing the warm sensation in your lower stomach has went away. Then, an involuntary image of Katsuki flashed behind your closed eyes. He was there, above you while looking absolutely feral. His eyes were no longer red, but somehow dilated to the point where they were just plain black. You felt the warmness coming back again as you glance down from his eyes to the placement of his hands. The mere sight made you gasp. Katsuki, with his knees proping himself, had his fingers inside of you. No longer were you covering your mouth, each and every whimper or moan left your throat. Katsuki gave you his infamous smirk and began to thrust his fingers faster within you. You couldn’t help but to clench around his fingers, wanting to get as close as possible.

“That’s it baby, come for me.” Katsuki spoke in a sultry tone.

Surprised by him speaking out, your eyes widened to the uncommon nickname.

“You look so fucking cute like this. Taking my fingers like a good girl...so fucking well baby ah fuck!” He continued with his lewd comments. He kept the usual pace while saying sweet nothings in the air.

“Katsuki...nagh...please make me come.” You pleaded softly.

With that, he curled his fingers inside you, causing a long drawn out moan from you. You felt it, then you finally released once he rubbed the tiny bud that desperately needed attention.

“Fuck, Katsuki...” you said breathlessly, eyes drawn to a close in complete euphoria.

Wanting to look back at the man who delivered you to climax, you opened your eyes to see nothing but darkness. Everything was a lucid dream. Katsuki wasn’t actually here to your beckoning call.

Embarrassed, you slipped on a fresh pair of panties and rolled onto bed, knocking out right away due to your recent endeavor.

Behind the wall next door, a lone Katsuki laid awake with his hand wrapped around his qivering member, breathing harshly after climaxing as well with you. He slapped his forehead.

“Fuck.”

The following morning, you woke up feeling much better. The constant pang in your lower region was gone, leaving you with an obvious glow. Katsuki noticed too when you strutted into the kitchen, wearing nothing but your big tshirt. His mind went ravage there, thinking about whether or not if you were wearing panties underneath. Considering what he heard last night made him think otherwise.

“Sleep well dumbass?” Katsuki asked as you made yourself a cup of coffee. You didn’t detect how smug he sounded. He was leaning against the island, wearing his usual attire of a tank top and sweat pants.

Thinking nothing of it, you answered his innocent inquiry. “Yeah actually. I haven’t slept that well in ages.” You took a sip of your coffee and leaned against the counter, your body mimicking Katsukis position.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh really? Some type of remedy I don’t know of that makes you sleep well?” Again, you didn’t notice how tauting his tone was.

“O-Oh um, nothing too complex really. Just a simple uh, breathing excerise I did.” You lied through your teeth.

“Ah that makes sense. No wonder I heard you breathing so hard last night” Katsuki snapped his fingers.

You regretfully spit out your coffee, coating the tiled floor with the sugary brown liquid. Katsuki titled his head innocently at you.

“Something I said?”

“N-No I just forgot I left our clothes in the washer last night. I should probably head downstairs now before some creep steals our stuff!” You spewd a last minute excuse and ran out the door before hearing anything from Katsuki.

“Was definitely something I said.”

The laundry mat downstairs was empty. The mornings were usually packed, having either you or bakugou to stand outside the door for an open machine. This time you wish there was people occupying the space.

You had propped yourself on the washing machine, feet dangling a few feet from the floor. He knows what you did last night. He absolutely knows. How stupid of you to not realize his bed was agasint the shared wall. It was agonizingly painful to imagine how Katsuki felt during that haunting hour. He probably threw up to the thought of you touching yourself, specifically to him getting you off. Tears started to threateningly leave your eyes. No matter how many times you tried not to cry during this whole ordeal, a single tear slid down your face. Next thing you knew a whole stream was pouring out both of your eyes. If a person were to come in at this exact moment, they’d think you were a lunatic.

That’s when you heard loud footsteps coming from the entrance of the laundry matt. Deep down you knew who it might be, but you couldn’t muster up the courage to look up. You kept your head down, eyes focusing on your bare feet swaying back and forth. A pair of feet came into view, your knees slightly touching their upper thigh. You lowered your head even more, not wanting to face Katsuki and his judgmental glare.

“Y/N? Look at me,” he demanded.

You shook your head, still keeping it down.

“I said,” he places his finger beneath your chin, raising it to where you were eye level with him. “Look at me.”

You gulped, noticing how angry he looks right now. Is he angry at you touching yourself to him? Or is he mad about something else?

“Listen, I know what you did last night-“

That’s it. You cringed hard at his confession. Nothing mattered right now anymore. Katsuki was just white noise at this point. Dying sounded more appealing than listening to your roomate spiel about how they caught you masturbating. Oh the horror.

“That’s why I think we should please each other for the time while being quarantined together”, he finished.

Wait what.

The look he gave you was unlike any other look you’ve received from him. He was pleading, almost begging, with his eyes. You barely noticed his grasp on your thigh. The grasp grew tighter each second you left him unanswered.

“We both need this. I haven’t had any relief from another person in months...” he admitted while simultaneously rubbing your thigh.

You wanted this more than anything, but you didn’t openly admit that to him. Especially not in an open space like a laundry matt, where someone could walk in at any moment.

“Katsuki...I don’t think we should-“ he caught you by surprise with the sudden impact of his lips. The contact made you both moan into each other’s mouths. The hand that was grasping your thigh earlier soon trailed higher to your inner thigh. His cold hand against your already flushed body was enough to make you climax. When he got courageous enough to place his hand on your waist, you scooted closer to his body, giving him an invitation to step inbetween your legs. He obliged and closed the space between the both of you, using his other hand to cup your cheek. Katsuki grew ansty and bit your lower lip, wanting to gain more access in your mouth. You surrender and let him kiss you tongue first. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, letting him explore your mouth with his expert tongue. Katsuki grabbed your hands and placed them on his head, implying for you to grab a handful of his hair. Once you ran your hands through his blonde locks, his whole entire body tensed up. He quickly detatched his lips from your mouth, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Keep...Keep doing that please.” He whined. You smiled at his approval and continued to rake through his hair.

His whimpers were angelic as you kept tugging on his hair while he kissed you open mouthed.

You both were at it for awhile, making out and touching places that needed attention from the other. When the two of you let go for some air, a string of saliva strewn from both of your mouths. Flustered at the sight, Katsuki licked your bottom lip and gave it a quick peck before lifting your body from the washer. You squeaked loudly due to the aruptness and wrapped your legs around his waist.

The trip back to the apartment wasn’t long. Katsuki was careful not to drop you as he treaded up the stair case. Your apartment door came into view and without hesitation Katsuki kicked it open, breaking the hinges along with it.

“Katsuki! How are we going to pay for that!” You scolded him, playfully hitting his chest.

He chuckled at that and closed what was left of the door with his foot.

“I’m not worried about that right now. Too busy on taking care of you,” he mumbled the last part before attaching his lips to yours again.

Clumsily, the pair of you made it to his bedroom without breaking anything else in the process. Katsuki practically threw you on his bed, your back landing on one of his pillows. He climbed on top of you and observed your whole entire body. Internally you were shaking uncontrollably, but externally you gave the facade that you were completely calm. Katsuki took this as a sign to move his hand under your shirt, still staring at you intently. You felt his fingers inches away from your perched nipple. His hand reached your breast, giving it a good squeeze before pinching it with his fingers. You voluntarily arched your back, wanting him to explore more of your body.

“You like that?” He questioned, still pinching your sensitive nipple.

Answering him by moaning, he used his other hand to trail a line leading up to your inner thigh. He moved up and down slowly in a teasing pace, careful not to touch your heat yet. He replaced his digits with his thumb to rub your nipple in place. His smirk grew wider seeing you squirm beneath his touch. Deep down he always wanted to see you like this. Flustered to the core and whimpering to his subtle touch. He couldn’t wait to see you screaming out in pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to hear you call out his name in pure ecstasy.

As much as you wanted Katsuki to worship your body, the desire for him to fill you was more important.

“Kasu-...Katsuki, please.” You urged on, bucking your hips to meet his.

“Please what dumbass? Hm? Use your words,” he traced the outline of your lips carefully, opening your mouth wider.

“I need you inside me. I want to feel you...” you pathetically begged out him to.

Katsuki saw the desperation in your body language and voice. Swiftly, he pulled your panties down to your ankles, letting you move them aside to the floor. The wetness from your heat was slowly dripping down your thighs. Prepped and ready for whatever Katsuki has in store for you. Your cunt throbbed painfully from the anticipation of his next move.

“You want me now baby?” He seductively said, earning an earnest groan from you as a reply. He kept himself busy by pumping his member through his sweats. His eyes never left you as he thrusted aggressively, smiling during the process when you kept glancing at his actions below. “I can’t wait...to know how you feel...ngh...I bet you feel incredible wrapped around my cock”. A blush creeped its way to your cheeks. His crude comments are getting dirtier, and you low-key didn’t want him to stop speaking his mind.

Never in a million years would you have ever thought of doing something this intimate with Katsuki. If you were to tell yourself, a little first UA student, that you and Katsuki Bakugou had sex, you’d never believe it. Even at this moment, you still couldn't comprehend this was happening. You broke out of your thoughts when you felt the tip of something hovering at your entrance. During your daze, Katsuki managed to get his fully erect member from the tight hold of his boxers and lined it perfectly at your aching hole. He nudges your hole a few times before rubbing against your clit. A fulfilling moan left your throat as he kept going with the tedious motion. You elavated your hips a little in hopes for his tip to enter. Katsuki growled at your impatient state and grounded your hips with hands. You whimpered at the harshness of his grip.

“Keep doing that idiot and I just might make you fuck yourself instead,” he lowered his head to your neck and started sucking on the sensitive area. “You’re lucky I'm going to go easy on you dumbass or else you’ll be begging for me to stop. So, just let me know and I’ll stop”.

Even when he’s about to go feral in your insides, he was still considerate of your feelings, which made your heart beat go bezerk. Thankfully he stopped kissing your neck and dropped his full attention to his cock. You mentally sighed to yourself once you felt his tip circle around your lips. The swelling sensation down below was becoming unbearable to the constant teasing. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, so you wrapped your hands around his torso and purposely shoved him forward. Both of you let out a choked moan once his cock finally entered you. Your walls instinctively clamped tightly around him, feeling the warm flesh inside of you. The action you did elicited a loud whine from Katskui, who was currently shoving his face into the crevice of your neck, shaking from entering your tight walls so abruptly.

“Do I...Do I feel good Katsuki?” you asked, shifting uncomfortably to his stiffness.

He lifted his head from his previous position and grinned from ear to ear. “You feel fucking amazing baby.” He wasted no time to move his hips to sheathe his cock deeper inside you. It didn’t hurt due to you being so aroused and wet. He then started to continuously thrust at a slow pace, making sure you were adjusting to his size. Mouth wide open, you threw your head onto his pillows while clutching the bedsheets.

“Ugh, Katsuki. Please go faster,” you winced at how needy you sounded, but you wanted the relief right away.

Katsuki listened to your command and thrashed himself more into your hole. Sounds of skin slapping on skin and sporadic moans filled the small room. You felt his cock twitch inside you, indicating that he was indeed close. He continued thrusting at a fast pace, occasionally reaching down to rub your clit. Without a doubt, he was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, never once missing it. To feel even more closer to you, Katsuki pushed your legs further towards you, allowing him a better angle to thrust deeper.

“Fuck Y/N...I bet he never fucked you like this. He probably never had you making those cute faces you’re pulling right now, ngh...” he panted between thrusts. “I hated the thought of you being fucked by someone other than me. All the guys you’ve dated are nothing compared to me. I want you all to myself.”

The knot inside your cunt started pulsing by him mentioning his hatred toward your past partners. You screamed when he clamped his sharp teeth down onto your shoulder. For a spilt second, you thought you felt the trickle of your own blood. Next thing you knew, Katsuki’s thrusts became sloppier, indicating he’s on the verge of climaxing.

“God yes Katsuki, please come. Come with me baby!” you cry out.

You being so oblivious, you don’t know how much your voice turns him on. So when you egged him on to come with him, that’s exactly what he did. With one last thrust, both you and Katsuki attach your lips together, moaning out your orgasms into each others mouths. He successfully fills your heat with his seed and freezes in place. He detaches his lips from yours and stares at your dripping core. He had to restrict himself to not shove his cock into you again. After composing himself, Katsuki released himself from you and rolled over onto his side, propping his elbow to get a good view of you. You still recovering from your orgasm. You were gasping for more air, trying to compose yourself.

“Ya know...maybe you could use your energy restoration quirk on me for a round two?” he humorously suggested.

You shifted yourself into a comfortable position on his lap and jabbed a finger under his chin. “Only if this round involves me riding you.”

Katsuki then pushed you roughly on your back again. His eyes were more dilated this time than during your previous intimate moment together. He leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I like that idea better don’t cha think, idiot.”

Everything after that event changed the course for both you and Katsuki. The mood and tension from before disappeared. Now the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other. You caught yourself sleeping more in Katsuki’s bed than your own. What was the point of being separated if you two were practically having sex every day? Every hour, minute, and second. It didn’t bother you though. You’d rather jump his bones than read another boring book again.

On day 30 of quarantine, you woke up naked in Katsuki’s arms. You stretched your arms and legs, popping them in the process. Katsuki grunted and pulled you closer to his body. You smiled into the crook of his neck and returned the favor by kissing him on the nose. He scrunched his face, obviously not favoring the random spot you pecked him at.

The night before you two were going at it till 3 am. Not taking breaks for anything whatsoever. It was evident from the display of your clothes strewn everywhere.

You relaxed more into his arms, but your heart stopped once you heard the front door opening. Katsuki was still passed out, oblivious to the disturbance inside your apartment. Your ears picked up footsteps padding their way towards Katsuki’s door. The door knob twisted ominously. Whoever was behind the door was surely taking their sweet time. Before you knew it, the door swung open revealing the last person you wanted see. There stood Kirishima, mouth agape seeing you in the same bed as Katsuki. He blinked a couple of times before raising a weak finger in your direction.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who got laid during this pandemic!” Kirishima bursted into laughter.

Katsuki unwrapped his arms around you and grabbed the nearest pillow, using his quirk to explode it right at Kiri’s face. The impact ricchoeted him out the threshold of the door, a loud crash coming along with him.

“EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING FIRST SHITTY HAIR!” he yelled, small sparks ejecting from his hands.

You contently sigh. Maybe this whole quarantine thing wasn’t so bad after all.

#bakugo imagine #bakugou katsuki #bnha fic #mha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine

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hawkbucks · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt: AU where everything is the same except Howard wasn’t Uber-rich and Tony built SI ground up, focusing on clean energy and science and tech and Bucky meets him for the first time at the expo. (Nat can be his PA?) (modern setting AU?)

“What the fuck!” Bucky exclaims as he drops the laminated badge on the table. He stares at it in disbelief, ignoring Steve’s snickering. Then, he picks it back up and holds it up to the light coming in through one of the windows, scrutinizing it like a hundred dollar bill. His name is typed neatly in the middle, a string of words underneath declaring him to be a VIP pass holder which, holy shit. General admission tickets are hard enough to come by—they’re surprisingly cheap and, by that virtue, sell out faster than Bucky can recite the Stark Industries motto, but VIP passes? Those are usually reserved for rich tech enthusiasts. Insiders. CEO’s of the damn companies that went to the Expo to do some schmoozing, grandstanding, and bragging. People who are people. Not someone like… him.

“Nat thought you would like it,” Steve says, patting him on the back and picking up the now discarded box the badge came in. “Said that it’s her apology for not being able to celebrate with us today.”

“Natasha got me this?” He waves the badge around, wide-eyed, the laminate making wobbly noises with each pass back and forth. “How the hell did she afford it?”

Steve’s genial smile fades away, replaced by furrowed brows and a small frown. “She’s… Tony Stark’s PA.”

“What? Since fuckin’ when?” Last time Bucky checked, Natasha was still working in that old record store down the street with Sam and definitely not working as the personal assistant of one of the most influential men in the world of technology. Maybe the most influential, if Bucky is allowed to be a fanboy.

“Since 2 weeks ago?” Steve tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Remember when she brought you that mug? She said that she told you right after.”

Bucky ponders for a second. “She might’ve, but honestly, I was distracted by th’ mug,” he admits sheepishly. It was a very good mug, in his opinion. It had Tony Stark’s signature printed on it, along with their signature arc reactor logo (and, given the chance, Bucky could gush all day long about the arc reactor and the sheer brilliance behind it, but so far no one has been willing to sit down and listen to that).

Steve sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”

(As he scrolls through his Twitter feed before bedtime, he’s immediately hit by the memory of him fawning over Stark’s appearance in a video uploaded by Stark Industries a week ago. Natasha was visiting, humming as she listened to his adjective-filled rant.

Natasha heard him say that her boss has killer thighs and pretty lips.

He grabs one of his pillows and slams it down over his face, hoping that if he stays in that position long enough, he’d suffocate.)

“I don’t know what to wear,” he moans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“It’s a convention,” Sam says, throwing him a sidelong look, “not a date.”

He lifts his arm up just enough to glare at Sam. Judging by Sam’s shit-eating grin, however, it’s not very effective. “Exposition,” he corrects. Blegh, he’s starting to sound like one of those pretentious technobabble YouTubers. “It’s an exposition, and I’d rather not go there lookin’ like I was thrown into a washer with my clothes and came out wearin’ whatever stuck.” He breathes in deeply. “And did you know that Nat is Stark’s PA?”

Sam laughs. “Dude, she told me that before she even went in for the interview. She was confident and, hey—” he shrugs his shoulders— “it worked.”

Bucky grunts. “Unfortunately. Or fortunately.” Without her, he wouldn’t have that pass, even if it is proving to be more of an inducer of anxiety than excitement. “Now are you goin’ to help me pick out an outfit or what?”

“Or what,” Sam snickers.

“No, no, the grey one would be better. It brings out your eyes,” Sam comments, leaning against the doorway and watching as Bucky takes off a dusty mauve long sleeve and replaces it with a dark grey button-up.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “What happened to not helpin’ me pick out an outfit?”

“I thought about it, and, man… I can’t let you go out looking like a hot mess ‘cause you didn’t get my advice. I’d feel bad.” Sam crosses his arms. “Especially when you’re gonna meet your crush.” He wiggles his eyebrows and deftly dodges the discarded mauve long sleeve that Bucky launches his way.

“S’not a crush,” Bucky hisses, “and the pass isn’t a guarantee that I’ll meet him.”

Sam snorts. “It’s not a crush, you say, as if I haven’t had to listen to you go on and on about how Stark’s revolutionizing clean tech or how he’s donated, like, 3 gajillion bucks to a water charity. And c’mon, Nat’s his PA. You’d be lucky if she didn’t come up with a plan to keep him near you for every damn second you’re at that expo.”

As much as Bucky hates to admit it, Sam does have a point. Nat is notorious for meddling in their love lives for her own amusement, and she has concrete and definite proof that Bucky finds a modicum of attractiveness in Stark. He covers up a pained groan with one hand. Is it too late to send the badge back?

He is horribly, painfully aware that his expression must resemble a fish out of water as he steps into the admissions line. Double-check, triple-check. He has his ID, the badge, and his debit card just in case. Plus his phone, a portable charger, and its actual charger if he’s able to find the time to sit down. A backpack is slung over his shoulders, decorated with pins of his favorite sci-fi shows and a couple superheroes.

The smile he gives to the woman checking his items in is shaky at best, but he finds himself comforted when she picks up on his nervousness and tells him that there’s nothing to worry about, go and enjoy yourself now.

He clips the badge onto his front pocket and tries not to trip over his own feet as he enters the exhibition hall.

Pym Technologies is too busy showing off some sort of shrinking-slash-enlargening formula and he’s too busy trying to desperately not let his mind wander into the gutter to notice Natasha stepping up behind him.

“James,” she says, hand clamping down on his shoulder.

He does not yelp, thank you very much, but he does whirl around quicker than what should be humanly possible and levels her with one of his frowns.

“Grey looks nice on you,” she comments, ignoring his sour face. “It makes your eyes pop.”

“Sam helped.” His gaze flickers down to the clipboard that she’s cradling in one arm, then to the official-looking nametag that she has hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “An’… thanks for the pass.”

“It’s the least I could do for one of my best friends.”

Bucky narrows his eyes as Natasha’s sparkle. That sentence is so not Natasha that his gut is telling him that either a) Natasha has been replaced with a remarkable lookalike who is still trying to get the hang of it or b) she’s about to pull something devious and amuse herself at his expense. Going off the amount of time that he’s known her for, he’s assuming it’s option b.

She looks down at her watch that Bucky is pretty sure is non-functional and says, “I have to go, but you should come by the Stark Industries presentation area at 2. We’re not due to present until 3:30, but your pass will let you in.” She winks, and Bucky knows that should really means you better come or I will hunt you down and not even Steve could save you from my fury.

Each step he takes towards the Stark Industries presentation area feels like another step towards his demise. He can’t help the pounding in his chest or the way his arms start to turn into jelly. He can’t help the sweat threatening to fall from his brow or his knees valiantly attempting to give out. He has a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind of what Natasha has planned, and he thinks back to what Sam said earlier about how Natasha would not let a second pass where he and Stark were not in close proximity.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s arrived until an arm clad in a black sleeve collides with his chest. He looks up, startled, at a stocky man with a severe expression. “You’re not allowed back here, buddy,” the man says, a firm crease between his brows.

“Uh.” Bucky fumbles with his badge before holding it up. “My friend said that my pass would let me in.”

“Well, your friend was wrong.” The man crosses his arms. “You should get going before—”

“Let him through, Happy.” In swoops Natasha in all her glory, looking like a fiery-haired angel sent down from the heavens. “I told him to come.”

The man—Happy, which is an unfitting nickname if Bucky’s ever heard one (and he’s heard a lot)—stares at him long enough that he contemplates leaving the exposition and quite possibly the country, before grumbling something unintelligible and stepping to the side.

He steps through, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t relax until he’s face-to-face with Natasha. “M’here. Like you told me to be.”

“Color me impressed. I thought you’d ditch.”

He snorts. “And risk havin’ you hunt me down ‘til I die? No thanks.”

“Smart.” She turns around, nearly whipping him in the face with her hair. “Now follow me. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Oh, god no, he thinks as he trails behind Natasha like a duckling. Her heels clack against the polished floor. People scramble to get out of her way, and, judging by the smirk she gives him over her shoulder, she enjoys it. “Tony!” she calls out as they approach a figure with a turned back and no, no, don’t turn around, don’t turn around, do—

and Stark turns around and he has to fight down a weird sobbing noise because Stark manages to look even better in person. Fierce intelligence glitters in his eyes and there’s an ever present curl to his lips, like he’s thought of a joke that he wouldn’t mind sharing if you asked nicely. “Romanoff!” he calls back. “My favorite PA.” Stark locks eyes with Bucky and he holds that gaze for just a moment before tearing away and focusing on Natasha.

“Please, you say that to all your PA’s.” Natasha pats Bucky’s back a bit harder than necessary. “Do you remember that friend I told you about? The one who is a fan of yours? This is him. His name is James and he is very excited to be here.” She lets her hand wander down to his side and pinches him lightly. You talk to him, he can hear her say in his head, because I do not want you to go home and mope to Steve about how you couldn’t. (Is Natasha actually telepathic or has he hanged around her enough that he has adopted a mini-Natasha in his mind? He doesn’t know and at this point he’s too afraid to ask.)

“And I’m very excited to meet him,” Stark says with a wink. Bucky wonders if he died somewhere along the way, because there is no way that Tony Stark just winked at him. Stark sticks his right hand out for a handshake.

Bucky swallows down his anxious thoughts before clasping his left hand with Stark’s right and giving it one, two, three quick shakes. They withdraw, and Bucky tries not to think about the fact that he already misses the weight of Stark’s hand in his own.

“Firm grip,” Stark whistles, and Bucky feels heat rise up on his cheeks. “Stark-made?”

Bucky rolls his left arm—his prosthetic that he’s been wearing since he’s come home from the military. “Baintronics.” Even if he wanted a Stark Industries prosthetic, Baintronics was the one with the military contract.

“Least it’s not Hammer,” Stark jokes.

Bucky chuckles, and that turns into him biting down on his lower lip when Stark smiles, pleased that he was able to draw a reaction. He really doesn’t need to be blurting out something like your smile is so pretty, please let me buy you lunch or I’ve admired you ever since you were in the newspaper for making an advanced medical drone at the age of 18, you’re so smart, please let me buy you lunch or I appreciate the fact that you donate so much to clean energy coalitions, please let me buy you lunch or anything else that would end in him extending an invitation to Stark for lunch. He might be a bit hungry.

“But you know,” Stark starts, taking Bucky out of all of his lunch-related thoughts, “we are starting a round of clinical trials for a new prosthetic designed by yours truly. It’s supposed to introduce finer motor control—sew some thread through a needle kind of fine, if my prototypes are to be believed—and the touch receptors are a thousands times more sensitive. You should be able to feel the ridges on the side of a penny!” Stark beams, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “The installation, though, would be a lengthy process—hopefully not too painful, I’m trying hard not to make it that way, and we won’t be able to get you fitted with one right away, but if it sounds like something you’re interested in, I can, uh… you can sign up. I can’t guarantee that you’ll be picked, but…” Stark looks at him with something like hope glittering in his eyes. “If you want.”

Bucky considers Stark’s offer for all of 5 seconds before going, “Yes. Yeah. I know you’re not promisin’ it, but if I do end up gettin’ it, it’d be a hell of a lot better than this weighty thing.” He rolls his left shoulder, wincing as the anchor point tugs at his skin.

Stark hums and nods, a flicker of concern crossing his face when Bucky winces. “Much better.” He turns to look at Natasha. “Mark him down, will you, Nat?”

Natasha smiles graciously, whipping a pen out from god knows where, and scribbles something down on her clipboard. “His name is down, Tony. I took the liberty of adding his number, too. Now if you excuse me, Ms. Potts has just arrived and if I remember correctly, you asked me to escort her here.” She bows out of the conversation, subtly jabbing Bucky with her pen as she does so.

“Don’t forget to give her the slice of cake I saved!” Stark shouts as Natasha walks away.

“I never forget, Mr. Stark,” Natasha replies at a much quieter volume.

“She really doesn’t,” Stark comments to Bucky, shaking his head with a fond look on his face (and no, Bucky is not jealous that it isn’t directed towards him). “A true miracle worker. So, James—” and that bright smile is back on his face— “care to talk a bit longer?”

Bucky still isn’t entirely sure if this is a lucid fever dream that he’s having or not, because out of everyone that Tony can talk to, like Rumiko Fujikawa, the runner of one of the most popular tech-focused YouTube channels on the face of the planet, or Reed Richards, the founder of the ambitious Future Foundation, he chooses to talk to him. Plain James Barnes.

It’s mind-boggling.

And seeing this side of Tony Stark? Where he’s relaxed, his tie loosened with no qualms on questioning whether Anakin’s midi-chlorian count would’ve shrunk due to losing a good chunk of his body or whether his blood would simply make more to make up for it while they lounge on a couch that’s too comfortable for its own good? Well…

Bucky clears his throat, cutting Stark off mid-rant. “In Empire of Dreams, Lucas says that if Anakin didn’t get, uh, cut in half on Mustafar, he would’ve been as twice as powerful as Palpatine, so, yeah, I’d say that he lost some of his midi-chlorians.”

Stark stares at him. He looks down at his lap, unsure if he should’ve said that or if he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. “God,” Stark breathes out, “I could kiss you right now.”

Those words send a jolt of electricity down Bucky’s spine; he’s stunned into silence.

“Sorry. Sorry, that probably made you uncomfortable.” Stark waves a hand, a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. “I’m just—I’m not used to anyone listening when I talk about this stuff, so having you respond… I don’t have a filter. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says quickly. “S’flatterin’. Never had anyone want to kiss me after a conversation about Star Wars.” Sam did want to do something to him after he forced him to sit through a marathon of the entire series, but he’s pretty sure that that want was the want to strangle him with a plastic bag as opposed to kissing him.

“Maybe you just hang out with the wrong people,” Stark teases.

“I should tell Natasha you said that.”

“Perish the thought.” Stark grabs a handful of pretzels from the bowl set out in front of them by an intern more than likely wanting to get on Stark’s good side. “Anything you’re particularly looking forward to this Expo?” he asks, popping a pretzel into his mouth.

“Pretty much just SI’s presentation,” Bucky admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, Pym’s formula sounds promisin’, but… god, I must sound like a kiss-ass right now.”

“Keep going,” Stark says around a mouthful of pretzel, “it’s doing wonders for my ego.”

Bucky laughs, shoulders becoming less stiff. “Yeah. SI. I’ve been keeping up with your progress on the miniature arc reactors. S’probably the one thing that I’m real into right now.”

Stark leans forward. “The arc reactors?” he asks, intrigued.

“Yeah. They’re small, but they have so much energy in them, you know? 8 gigajoules per second, man,” Bucky whistles. “That’s pretty damn amazin’. Could probably run Times Square for a couple of weeks.”

“More like a couple of hours,” Stark chuckles. “If you ever want to see them up close, I’m sure I can arrange something.”

Bucky can’t stop his jaw from dropping. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We actually have the big one that powers Stark Tower on display for the people that take the tours, but you said you were interested in the minis…” Stark trails off, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Well, Nat… Nat trusts you, so I think it’s fine if I trust you. I wouldn’t mind bringing you down to show you the minis. ‘Course you’d have to sign some NDAs and go through some security, but, honestly? You seem way more excited and into this than the other people I’ve showed them to. Pretty sure they just want to brag about how the Tony Stark gave them the nickel tour as opposed to being genuinely curious about the science behind the reactors.” Stark leans back into the cushions. “You’re a breath of fresh air, James.”

“Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You can call me Bucky. It’s what my friends call me.”

Stark throws him a pretzel which he thankfully catches. “And are we friends, Bucky?” he asks with that curl to his lips again.

Bucky barely represses a shudder at the way his nickname rolls off Stark’s tongue so casually, like it was meant to be there. “If—If you want to be.”

“Then we are.” Stark rolls his shoulders and allows himself to sink further into the couch. “I’d also have to insist on you calling me Tony, by the way. Stark is too formal. Because we’re friends.”

Bucky smiles. “Okay, Tony.”

“And, since we’re friends, why don’t you come out with us to dinner? Nothing too fancy, I promise, just some burgers and a milkshake. You up for it?”

Oh, god. He’s gonna have to pay Natasha back big time. Buy her some expensive knife that she’s been eyeing or something. Clean her apartment for a week. Grill her those steaks he makes that she likes so much. To have been given the chance to take Tony off of the pedestal that he built for him and be shown that he’s very much human, then to be given another chance to talk to Tony along with being offered a glimpse at the arc reactors, then to be invited out to dinner by the man himself… damn. “Burgers and a milkshake sounds good. Fries?”

“What meal would be complete without it?” Tony looks at his watch. “I’ve gotta head off to makeup now—they’re gonna make me look all pretty—but I’m gonna be looking for you when I present, okay? Ask Happy to bring you to the front row.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to Bucky. “If you’re fine with it, can you give me your number? I need a way to contact you for the arc reactor thing.”

Bucky hopes his hands aren’t shaking as he adds himself into Tony Stark’s contact list under “Bucky :)”. He hands it back to Tony, careful not to drop it.

“Thank you,” Tony singsongs and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll hopefully see you later, Bucky.” He mock salutes him and ff Tony goes, a woman with a black apron and a brush immediately magnetizing to his side the second he gets more than a few steps away from the couch.

As he watches Tony leave, Bucky suddenly remembers that Natasha had already put his number down.

#filled #old posts #3 #4 #5 #winteriron

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vegetalass · 4 years ago

Note

hcs of the gang being quarantined in one big house together maybe?? 🥺 lub ur writing

i lub u, anon!!🥺 sorry this took forever!

General

Oh my godddddddddd

They had to stop doing movie nights because there was too much fighting

They tried to set it up such that everyone got a turn to pick a movie but there were still complaints

Now, movies are viewed at random and the policy is that

1. The TV is first come first serve

2. You have to announce when you’re using it

3. Anyone is allowed to join you

This has stemmed into multiple people shouting “IM WATCHING _____” at random times

And yes, people will try to hide the remote (mostly Sean)

If they can find it, that is

The lines between public and private property have been blurred. Everything must be labeled or there is a chance someone will take it

You can risk it, but it’s not recommended since they’re all dudes and will most likely eat anything

And even with your name on a box of graham crackers, there’s still a chance someone will stick their hand it in and steal a few

All the dudes walk around in their Long Johns like it’s not awkward

They have to do their own laundry so everyone is missing socks

Or they have extras

And wet laundry is constantly being left on the ground if it’s unattended and someone needs the washer

Arthur

This dude double dips

He licks the spoon and puts it back in, too

Gets yelled at a lot for this, but never remembers to stop

Everybody is afraid to touch all of the dips now because of this

And Hosea has to start buying separate ones just for Arthur

He’s the one who takes 3 hour baths

I imagine that there’s multiple bathrooms in the house but not enough for everyone so there are definitely times when people are like “WTF, Arthur you’re still in there?” or “Where’s Arthur?”

Usually it’s Charles or John because they don’t mind sharing a bathroom with each other

Cue Arthur having accidentally fallen asleep in the tub

But yea he’s just chilling in there, otherwise

Started the quarantine off by trying to fix up the house… But immediately got lazy

There’s probably a number of things he keeps saying that he’ll “get to, eventually”

The only reason Dutch hasn’t called someone is because it’s a PANDEMIC

Technologically challenged

Barely knows how to turn on the TV and still uses an iPhone 5 that has pretty much stopped working

John has given up trying to explain how to make things fullscreen on YouTube

Because of this, probably spends most of his time wandering around the yard and reading or journaling

Tilly even bought him some scrapbooking supplies, which he’s been trying to use

Little washi tapes and highlighters because she knows it can’t get too complicated too fast

She also makes him an Instagram account so he can take photos or post art

But figuring out how it works is a losing battle, and he never remembers to use it, anyway

“I think we should get a pet”

Everyone: “Arthur... Do we look like we take care of ourselves?

If anyone tries to talk about how annoying the quarantine is, starts ranting about people who refuse to take it seriously

And the conversation ends up spiraling into him blaming capitalism for everything

John

Every other meal he eats is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Doritos

He does that thing where he wraps a bowl or plate in plastic wrap so he doesn’t have to wash it

Doesn’t clean up after himself

Leaves used tissues, slimy butter knives with PB on them, and crusty socks laying around

Unluckiest of them all

His snacks get taken the most, the bathroom is always occupied when he needs it, never gets to use the TV, his laundry is always moved, etc.

Always ends up using the bathroom when there’s no toilet paper

Texts Arthur for help and then makes an announcement in the group chat about “common courtesy”

Nobody replies

His texts are full of messages to Abigail that all say the same thing

“Help.” + “Please come get me” + “I hate it here”

They’re all left on read except for the occasional response asking if he needs anything from Target

The list he sends back is like four paragraphs long and it’s all dumb stuff

He’s like “FaceTime me when you get there, I wanna go shopping too”

Doesn’t even really want to leave the house for necessities, so he has to do stuff like water down his soaps or steal other people’s toiletries just to prolong how often he needs to go shopping for himself

He’s the one using Irish Spring from the dollar store mixed with water or a block of orange Dial soap that hasn’t been touched in five years

Charles tries to throw away an empty hand soap and John is like “THERE’S STILL SOAP IN THERE LOOK” *mixes water with it*

Steals razors and Shampoo

Thinks conditioner is “unnecessary” and “doesn’t do anything”

Complains about being bored but doesn’t bother to do the things people that people offer

Charles

Voluntarily becomes a recluse

Not because he wants to but because everyone else is too annoying to deal with

He’s forced to start using the internet and when he’s not on the computer he’s trying to block out the noise of the 8 other men he lives with just living

Going on walks is his other hobby

Also probably buys one of those adult coloring books to color

Like Athur, Charles hogs the bathroom

It’s not as bad as Arthur since he’s not in the tub for the whole time but he really will spend an hour getting ready in the morning for absolutely no reason

If anyone asks about it he just tells them that since they’re in quarantine there’s no reason to rush

But he does get yelled at if there’s no other bathrooms available

Becomes a self-care connoisseur

Walks around in a bathrobe and face mask just to try and achieve some sort of zen

Literally the only one who doesn’t walk around half naked

Besides Hosea, the one of the only guys who tries to wake up on time and eat three healthy meals a day

The house is entirely dark and he’s eating toast while Hosea makes coffee

It’s awkward, not because they’re weird about each other but because no one else is awake and it’s quiet for once

Dutch is the third person up and Charles leaves the kitchen by the time he’s around

Gave up trying to do the dishes and only cleans what he uses

Sometimes if he feels like being nice he’ll do Arthur’s dishes, too

But only if he gets something back in return, like Arthur doing his laundry or something

The only one who changes his bedsheets on the regular

Him and Kieran are the only ones trusted by Hosea to leave the house safely

Micah

Everyone is surprised Micah isn’t dead yet

Everyone is constantly fed up with him for something or for just being irritating

And try to ignore him for the most part, which is hard

Tries to defends himself with “Well, you don’t have to bother me if you don’t want to”

Doesn’t clean up after himself, either

John leaves more mess, but Micah does worse stuff

While John just leaves his dirty peanut butter knives around, Micah does stuff like forget to put the mayo back in the fridge, leave the bread bag out and open, forgets to bring his used dishes to the dishwasher, throws his trash in other people’s trash cans, leaves his wet laundry in the dryer, etc.

If it’s annoying and gross, he does it

And tries to eat food that other people have made for themselves or don’t want to share with him

Dutch is the only one who shares with him willingly

Does not pick up his hair from the bottom of the shower

And doesn’t clean the sink after he shaves

Honestly, I doubt any of the drains in the house work properly because so much shaving goes on

It’s honestly surprising to everyone that he takes the quarantine seriously

Accuses people of being sick even though all of them have barely left the house…

Wears a mask inside when he’s feeling salty

He doesn’t even care about the mask, it’s just to make people feel gross and bad about themselves

Besides Sean, he’s always trying to hog the TV

And everything he watches is annoying, pretentious, or both

Complains about there being “nothing to watch” despite always having something on and refusing to stop

Tries to smoke inside and literally always get busted for it

Even if other people are doing it too, he’s the one who doesn’t even bother to be by a window when he does it

His room is always off limits

If you need something from him you need to knock and wait in the doorway

Also does the “You’re too close… Step back, please” thing

And if anyone gets mad, says it’s a pandemic and he’s just trying to be SAFE

Mostly does this to feel powerful

Turns in to Uncle Jr. with all the complaining and berating he does

Uncle is honestly offended

Hosea

The only person allowed to do the shopping

He gave up trying to give people lists because the groceries they came back with were never right

Either too few, too many, not the right stuff... You name it

See here for more

That’s why, despite being the oldest, he’s the one who goes grocery shopping for meals twice a week

Refuses to buy alcohol because of incidents that they’ve had

Can’t stop people from sneaking it, though

Similar to Dutch in that he gets annoyed when people oversleep, but because its quarantine, he tries to not mention it, and at the worst, gets passive aggressive

Tries to make a chore chart for people to follow but it gets ignored

He ends up having to force people to do things by reminding them constantly

He’s the one who starts opening people’s doors in the morning and turning on the lights

Makes everybody start eating on paper plates with plastic silverware because he’s tired of trying to make people use the dishwasher

Arthur doesn’t know how, John doesn’t put his plates in the right place, Charles refuses to since no one else contributes to keeping it neat, Micah doesn’t even know they have one, Kieran also can’t fill it correctly...

Basically, it’s too much for Hosea to handle

His dinners are all Costco pre-made meals that can be made quickly

Frozen lasagna and prepackaged salad type stuff

He’s the guy who falls asleep on the couch sitting up while watching TV and if you try to talk to him he says “I’m awake” without opening his eyes

And if he’s using it, don’t even think about suggesting to change the channel

The answer is and always will be no

Even when he’s not really paying attention

And it’s either on the History Channel or Discovery Channel

Always complaining about how cold his feet are

Doesn’t let anyone touch the thermostat

He’s an in real life Elf on the Shelf

Dutch

If anyone, and I mean anyone starts sleeping in, he gets in a really pissy mood

“While I’m up, doing work for you, you’re sitting in bed being lazy!!!” and “What do you mean you don’t understand why! Why should I have to tell you why wasting the day is annoying to all those who are working!”

Even despite this, he can’t actually change the fact that no one wakes up on time

And it’s not like the work he’s doing for them is very important

He’s the one who thinks that a pandemic is the perfect time to be or do something useful

Eat healthy, write a book, pump iron… Anything

And when people complain about being useless he’s like “You have all this free time!!!1! Stop complaining!!! You can do anything!!!”

And if he’s doing something he considers useful, yells at people who try to bother him

Arthur: “Hosea wanted to know-”

Dutch: *doing sit ups* “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”

When it’s his turn to cook dinner, he’s making 8 boxes of Trader Joe’s mac and cheese in a huge pot and calling a meal

Literally the only meal no one complains about

He won’t clean the pot when it’s finished, though

Literally just cooks and leaves it out for someone else to deal with

Another self-care aficionado

Also walks around in a bathrobe and face mask

He’s worse than Charles though, because while Charles wears pants... Dutch will be booty ass naked under his

Also keeps trying to make homemade masks and scrubs and walks around in those, too

He’s like “This is a good one, I can tell already”

Everyone: “Dutch... is that... mayo... in your hair?”

Annoyingly good at monopoly

Does not invite Molly over and gets yelled at over FaceTime

Cue everyone eavesdropping on their arguments

Goes on power walks

Yells at people when they listen to loud music with swear words

Honestly, always yelling at people

“Can somebody get me my slippers? Arthur? John? Hosea? AnYoNe!!!”

Kieran

Spends the least time in the bathroom because he’s afraid of getting yelled at

Does everything in five minute increments

Except for showers, when he allows himself ten minutes

Barely

Most of what he eats is just microwave popcorn and shredded cheese

He’s the one asking people if they want to go on “family walks” with him

Literally no one joins him

Also tries to play board games with everyone

This goes a little better at least because Hosea will sometimes play and if he’s there, a few people will definitely join

Very bad at monopoly

The most conscious about wearing a mask

The others wear them but Kieran is the one who wears double masks, gloves, and carries around Febreeze

Also will get mad if anyone forgets their “safety equipment”

Or if they’re within six feet of him in public

Props to him though for staying healthy

I’ve mentioned this before, but... Spends most of his time playing games on a big tablet wearing headphones

Candy Crush and FarmVille and Words with Friends and stuff like that

Though all of his internet friends are weird old ladies he doesn’t know

Everyone is mad at him for sending non-stop game notifications, too

Hosea is the only one who responds to any of them

He’ll never admit this, though

Also tries to start doing arts and crafts

Mary-Beth started telling him about the various crafts she’s been doing, so he’s started trying to follow along, too

Things like crocheting or popsicle stick art

His stuff all looks bad, but he’s just happy to be doing it

And to be FaceTiming Mary-Beth

When he gets to choose a movie, he’s picking a “family-friendly” movie like Inside Out or Lilo and Stitch

Everyone starts out being mad but they all end up watching the whole thing without complaining

Heated debates ensue, too

For example, like about whether Flynn should’ve cut Repunzel’s hair in Tangled

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG?”

Charles + Arthur vs. Dutch + Bill

Makes meatloaf or Hamburger Helper like once a week

They’re basically the only thing he knows how to make

Sides with Arthur when he suggests getting a pet

Wears a Snuggie

Doesn’t change his socks

Javier

Plays his own music very loudly and won’t turn it off or down if you ask

Either that or he’s practicing guitar

It’s not really that bad but when you can’t escape it.... People get mad

The only saving grace is that the singing is usually in Spanish so it’s not as bothersome

The door to his room is always closed

Refuses to open it

To talk to him, you have to knock and then he’ll exit

Dutch is the only one allowed in and he thinks Javier’s rules about entering are creepy so never does it

Javier cooks his own food and won’t share

Only makes enough for exactly one person so even if he wanted to, there’s not enough

Eats dinner in his room to prevent people from bothering him or asking for some

However, he has the biggest stash of quarantine snacks…

No one knows where he gets them

And getting him to share is like trying to do a drug deal, but he’s not against it as long as he gets something in return

He didn’t personally cook all these snacks so the rules are different

His room is full of scented candles to make it smell better since the whole house kinda smells like Boy

Buys a gamer chair at the start of quarantine

Claims it’s more comfortable than the office chair that Dutch and Hosea chose for everyone

Everyone is jealous

Wears fuzzy pajama pants only

Sean

Sean is the one sleeping in

Never sleeps in his bed and just falls asleep wherever, basically

Usually the couch

Because he’s always snoozing, he’s the one who watches the most TV

Micah claims this isn’t “fair,” despite doing the same thing

And even if he’s not watching TV, he’s just using the couch to watch Tik Toks full volume

Tries to make his own Tik Toks, but they either stink or no one wants to participate

Constantly having people get mad at him for recording them

Stopped wearing clothes the moment quarantine started

Always in a tank top and his underpants

It’s kinda weird

People cared at first but by now they can’t be bothered to complain since they’re

1. Used to it

2. Probably start doing the same thing

Leaves his laundry laying around

Also won’t share anything he’s eating

Gets mad when people steal food

Doesn’t address anyone in particular though, just walks around yelling about how “nobody has the common decency not to steal”

Has food delivered almost every other day

No one knows where he’s getting the money from, either

Everyone think it’s a waste

Mostly because he doesn’t share, but also because all hell broke loose when Hosea found out about an expense called “delivery fees”

Also has a stick up his ass about wasting food

Started yelling about this randomly, too

If he can’t force someone else to finish leftovers, he forces himself to finish them

Probably gets caught watching a certain type of nasty video a lot

Lowkey it probably happens to everybody at least once

Yells at anti-maskers

Tries to wrestle the other boys and gets his ass handed to him

Bill

Possessive of everything

Usually he’s not this bad but being cooped up with a bunch of thieves and liars doesn’t make him confident that his Circus Animal cookies will last very long

Doesn’t share anything and very adamant about making sure there’s labels on things so nothing gets mixed up

Also makes his own space in the fridge with tape

BILL’S SPACE DO NOT TOUCH

And will start yelling in anything is moved

Not as bad as Sean though because he only cares about his own stuff

The whole thing is super hypocritical though, because he definitely steals other people’s stuff

If he gets caught, claims “it’s only fair”

Hosea has to buy him soap because he won’t buy it himself

Definitely the one who learns how to make prison hooch with cranberry juice and yeast

And the one who eats all of the ice cream

Even the nasty flavors

Wears the same clothes everyday because since he’s not working, “they’re not dirty”

They start getting holes in them, though

If anyone tries to suggest something for him to do, he gets mad and claims he “knows how to entertain himself”

Also constantly accusing people of being in his space or business

Ends up starting a ton of fights over this and then complaining about how mean everyone is to him

He’s not doing it on purpose, though

Ends up buying some kind of gaming console to pass the time

If he buys an Xbox, he shares with the rest of the boys

If he buys a nintendo switch, he starts playing Animal Crossing and doesn’t put it down for weeks

Out of everyone… He’s the one who takes the pandemic the least serious

He follows the rules because he doesn’t want to be eaten alive by any of the boys, but he probably thought the virus was a hoax at first

He learned his lesson the first time he tried to go out without a mask and got locked in the car, though

Forgets to flush the toilet

His room is dirty

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #HOPE U ENJOY ANON SORRY IM SLOW #and will probs continue to be slow #my car broke down at mcdonalds today LOL and by the time it got fixed mcdonalds WAS FUCKING CLOSED #i was so sad my mom actually ended up taking me to a different one #but they didnt have what i wanted LOL #but it was fine bc i was happy with just fries #also y'all.... my sink is fixed and let me tell u #I AM NEVER PAYING FOR A PLUMBER AGAIN #i took that bitch apart and snaked it myself #and enough hair to make a wig came out of it but she was fixed #and i saved so much money my mom bought me lunch as a reward #LOL #anyways i love u all thanks for reading hope this shows up in the tags and u like it #i hope i put enough!!#and lmk if i should republish in a new format #i keep getting scared to make a new post and not answer anon directly #oH WELL JUST CATO PROBLEMS #also went back to work and it was... fine i guess #idk #Anonymous

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spencerreidshortstories · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy Issues?

Description: this is a continuation from the last part. She opens up a lot due to the fact that she's on pain medicine. The college graduation part of this actually happened to me and I just thought I'd add it in.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really. She’s on medicine, but she is in the hospital, so . . . there is that. Talk of negligent parenting and trust issues because of it.

Also, for those interested I have a Stranger Things fan fiction in the works - Steve Harrington - and an American Horror Story fan fiction - Michael Langdon. They are not one-shots but multi-chapter connected things. Anyway, onto this one . . .

Spencer stayed with her during visiting hours and through the night. She was allowed one person to stay with her and she had chosen him. His friends had come by to see her, Garcia bringing a teddy bear and flowers, and then her friends had come by as well. None of them had stayed too long, mostly because she had started to become overwhelmed but also because she'd gotten a headache and started to feel nauseated from the head wound. It was normal for someone with a concussion to experience those things, so he wasn't that worried.

Spencer hated hospitals – germs, the weird lights, just everything about them was unsettling to him – but he'd found that he couldn't say no when she'd asked him to stay. Knowing she would need a ride home tomorrow he'd even offered to take a personal day.

"You shouldn't take a personal day just for that. There are probably other things you'd like to do."

"You're gonna be in a lot of pain tomorrow," he said. "I mean, you're not going to be able to use your arm really, and you're still going to have a headache – you might have that for a while. You need someone to take you home and I really don't mind taking a personal day and spending it with you."

"I . . . Okay."

Her cheeks took on a pink tint, which really showed up since her face was otherwise pale due to blood loss and shock – even though she claimed she was fine.

He hadn't really left her side since he'd gotten there even when she had drifted in and out of sleep between other people visiting. He'd gotten up to go get food and coffee and that was it.

"Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for everything. For coming when I called and staying because I asked you to. I'm – I'm really not used to that."

"What? Someone being a good friend?"

"No. A guy being nice to me without wanting something in return. I mean, even my dad doesn't really talk to me unless he needs something from me."

"I'm sorry. I, uh . . . never really knew my dad. He left when I was young and what I do remember isn't great. I think he wanted a more normal family."

"Oh. Well, that's on him. Not you."

Spencer still hadn't talked to her about his mother and all he'd gone through with that and he honestly didn't know when he should bring it up. He knew if he really wanted to be with her that he would have to be honest about it so that she wouldn't possibly be going into something blind, but now definitely wasn't the time to bring it up. He did know that.

"I think . . . I think the reason I like you so much is because you're, like, the exact opposite of my dad."

"Uh-oh. Latent daddy issues?" he teased.

She shook her head and laughed a little. "No. And don't make me laugh. It's not helping my head at all."

"Sorry, sorry." He smiled. "What did you mean then?"

"Well, just little things mostly, but you're already different in that the last time I was in the hospital my dad never even came to see me and he kind of got annoyed at me when I called him. I was still living with my grandmother at the time so he wasn't even that far away and he didn't come see me. Didn't ask how I was when I talked to him."

"I would never not come see you if you were in the hospital. And I'm never annoyed when you call me. I like hearing from you."

She went on as though he hadn't spoken, but he knew she'd heard him.

"He's always late. If he says he's going to be somewhere at a certain time, you can bet he's going to be at least an hour later than that. He has no time management skills at all. You've never kept me waiting – ever."

Spencer noticed that her voice was getting softer and he was sure she was going to talk herself to sleep. It was getting darker and the nurse had given her medicine to relax her, so it wouldn't be abnormal for her to fall asleep from it.

"You know, he even almost missed my college graduation. He knew the ceremony was at 11:00 and he waited until the morning of to go to the laundromat – the washer at his house was broken, and don't even get me started on how long it took him to get a new one. But anyway, it fits his pattern. He's late for everything – bills, insurance, even getting the tags on his car renewed, which meant I chauffeured him around a lot when I lived near him. He knew I would do it, so why bother?"

Now her voice was soft because she had tears in her eyes and was about to cry. Spencer realized the medicine must've made her thoughts and mouth a little looser. She'd never really talked about her dad before.

"I used to be afraid of him. He could get so angry, and I've never seen you angry. I mean, yeah, you've been upset, but you never shout or hit things or throw things."

Spencer's back stiffened as tension filled him. For one, he hoped she wasn't implying what he thought she was, and two . . . he hoped she didn't regret telling him this when the medicine wore off.

"He was angry a lot when I was a kid. But the worst was that you could do something one time and he'd be fine with it. The next time you do it, he would pitch a fit. I would walk on egg shells around him a lot of the time. I'm glad I didn't actually live with him. I mean, he never hurt me or anyone else, but he would still hit the wall or something, still scare us sometimes."

Spencer had no clue what to say to any of that and sometimes the best thing to do was just listen and not say a word, so that was what he did. He did, however, let himself process that she'd been through a form of mental abuse as a child – she probably didn't even consider it that. Victims of abuse sometimes didn't think of what they went through as abuse. Some even came to think of it as normal.

"He was really hard to get close to. I mean, you couldn't even have a conversation with the guy. He would stop talking to you if you didn't agree with what he said."

"I love talking with you," he said. "I wouldn't stop talking to you just because we don't agree on something."

Her not liking loud or sudden noises made sense now – not that sensory overload didn't make sense, but this could be another reason for it. She'd grown up around yelling and anger.

"And, to be honest, you're not someone I can imagine being mad at or not enough to shout at you. I don't get that type of angry. I don't want you to ever be afraid of me."

"I never have been," she said. "Despite you being a profiler, you're pretty open emotionally . . . or at least you have been with me.

"I have," he agreed. It was almost disconcerting to him. "Anything else I need to clarify?"

"I don't know. I – he never physically left my mom, but sometimes it was like he did. He would go years without a job and she'd have to make do on a minimum wage job – retail or something like that and sometimes she'd have to not pay a bill just so they would have food on the table. And he was there. That's the thing. He was physically there, he just wouldn't be working or providing for his family, for my mom and my brother. It used to make me so mad and I wasn't even living with them."

Her dad sounded like he had a classic case of the Peter Pan Syndrome and had never wanted to grow up. He imagined her dad had never had to answer for anything he'd done as a child and so didn't know how to take responsibility for anything.

"I don't mind taking care of you," he said softly, "if you'll let me."

She didn't respond vocally, but she did let a small smile grace her lips even as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

"I think you should sleep," he said. "I think the medicine is making you say things you might not have."

"Probably. But I'm glad I'm saying it to you and not someone else."

She calmed herself down and closed her eyes, but she still didn't sleep. He knew because a few minutes later she was looking to him again.

"Can I hold you hand again?" Her voice was quiet and a little hoarse even. "I know you don't, you know, really do that, but you let me earlier."

He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning and offered up his hand.

"Apparently I don't mind with you."

"Hm." She slipped her hand over his and slid her fingers between his. "I will consider myself special then."

"Very special.

It didn't take long for her to go to sleep once she decided to stay quiet for more than a few minutes. He stayed there in the chair beside her that night. Not that he'd been planning on leaving, but after her confessing all of the things she had he would've stayed with her anyway. He would not have left her to feel vulnerable when she woke up the next morning.

In a way, he was glad she'd opened up to him. In a completely different way, he wasn't, because he now felt he really had to open up to her too – especially since he was feeling a certain type of way about her. There were parts of his past he was scared to share with her – things that had nothing to do with his mom at all and more to do with his job and things that had come about because of his job.

She would have to know about them before he let her know how he felt about her because it seemed she felt for him at least some of what he was feeling for her.

He would have to be honest with her.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x ofc

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darker-soft-starker · 5 years ago

Photo

Starker Next Door Neighbour AU

----

Tonys new neighbour is kinda weird.

Like, he’s not trying to be callous or anything. But he’s just, y’know. Strange.

They first met four months ago.

The apartment opposite Tony’s had been vacant for only two weeks ever since old Mrs. Perry moved to Florida to retire with her grandkids. That was until one rainy Tuesday, when Tony sighted his new neighbour trudging down the hallway, hauling box after box through the elevator, whistling to himself as he relocated all of his belongings to 7C.

Tony, on his way out, had first seen the guy trying to precariously balance a large box in his arms whilst trying to unlock his apartment door at the same time. Predictably, he’d dropped his keys and Tony had swooped in and picked them up for him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you” the guy had said earnestly, shaking Tony’s hand after opening his door. “Yikes, I’m such a mess. Mercury in retrograde, am I right?”

Tony had nodded, having no idea what he was talking about, and promptly left.

So, the new guy - Peter, he had later learned was his name - was cute. Fluffy curls, gorgeous skin, irresistible big brown eyes.

But he was, y’know, a little bizarre.

Tony’s not even exaggerating.

Every time he goes into the hallway he’s met with a sneeze-inducing wave of patchouli and incense, holding his breath as he passes, wondering if he is living next door to a Shinto shrine. Tony swears at night that he hears humming. Like, of the om mani padme hum kind of variety. He hears the distant clang of singing bowls and tuning forks at midnight when he’s turning in to go to bed.

He thought about politely telling Peter to keep it down but every time he knocked on the door of 7C Peter just beamed at him in welcome and asked him about his day with genuine interest.

Tony bought ear plugs instead.

Tony swears that Peter can’t be any older than he is, early twenties at the youngest, but he says words like radical, dude and oopsy-daisy, groovy. One time he stubbed his toe around Tony and said fiddlesticks. He seems to be in and out at the weirdest times, waving burning sage at the letterboxes at three AM as if it were the normal thing to do.

“What do you even do,” Tony had asked one morning in the elevator. Peter was carrying a crate full of succulents, biceps bulging with the strain.

Peter looks down at his crate of plants and then back up to Tony as if it were obvious. The duh goes unsaid but Tony hears it.

“I’m a yoga teacher and a reiki practitioner,” he says, handing Tony a succulent from the crate.

Tony blinks down at the small potted plant.

“Um,” he says.

“It’s an echeveria elegans,” Peter explains, smiling.

“Do you... want me to hold this for you?”

“No, silly,” Peter had laughed. “It’s yours. Keep it in the sunlight and try not to over-do it with the water.”

Tony leaves the elevator more confused than before, clutching the succulent all the way to his 9:00AM class.

-------

Tony can handle weirdness. Tony can handle eccentricity. He can even handle the new plant he absolutely does not have time to care for and absolutely did not call Brenda.

But what Tony can’t handle is the ear-piercingly loud Gregorian chanting that comes from next door one night whilst he’s studying. Up for two days already, his concentration is shot by the guttural singing, the lead of his pencil snapping against his notebook in frustration. It’s nearly midnight for fucks sake.

Tony had stormed over, enraged and determined, and rapped his knuckles on the door for a good two minutes before it had swung open, a smiling Peter giving him a warm welcome on the other side.

“Do you mind?” Tony had demanded. “I’m trying to study for my thesis.”

Peter looked taken aback, contriteness making his big brown eyes dewy and soft.

“Oh my gosh,” he’d said, extending a hand out, “I’m so sorry about that. Hang on, wait here. Please wait.”

So Tony had waited, expecting Peter to rush to lower the volume. Instead, he’d returned with a fist-sized, green and purple rock-crystal thing, presenting it to Tony with a grin.

Peter had placed it in Tony’s palm, using both hands to curl Tony’s fingers over the heavy, polished stone.

“There,” Peter says proudly. “It’s fluorite.”

“It’s what,” Tony blinks.

“For clarity and concentration,” Peter explains, beaming a mile wide. “Keep it, okay? Good luck on your thesis.”

He’d closed the door, leaving Tony with a rock in his hand and the chanting continued.

Tony bought noise-cancelling headphones to put over his ear-plugs.

He definitely didn’t place the fluorite on his windowsill by his bed or smile at it sometimes or run his fingers over its smooth edges.

Ever since it’s been a never ending stream of peculiar behaviour, weird conversations about moon phases, etheric bodies and third eyes while waiting for their laundry to dry in the basement, the effect of the upcoming perigee syzygy on the neighbourhood and guessing Tony’s star sign.

“Cancer, right?”

“What?”

“Your zodiac sign,” Peter answers, rubbing at his eyebrow, pushing the hairs askew. His nails are painted black.

“Gemini,” Tony answers warily, piling his underwear and bedsheets into his basket.

“Damn, I was close,” Peter smiles, pouring his own mixture of organic fabric softener into the washer. “I’ll figure you out yet.”

Tony wants to reach over and smooth down the raised hairs on his eyebrow.

He’s a perfectionist, that’s all.

But in any case Tony just continues to go about his life, continues to study, grade his papers. He visits his optometrist and gets a new prescription and wonders how he is going to pay his phone bill when he spends more on heating over the winter than he intended.

It's all fine, whale music and white sage aside.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but it’s kinda nice.

-----

One day Tony rouses from his slumber to hear loud voices outside, the bellow of protesters on the main arterial street below. Tony thinks nothing of it and pops in his ear plugs, keen to get another hour of sleep before he has to be at his class. Being a TA is the worst.

Later, Tony watches the local news, watching in horrified fascination as his neighbour is one of the many arrested for protesting at a rally of a visiting Republican senator.

“What’s with the pyjamas?” Tony had queried at the letterboxes the following day, roaming his eyes over the soft-looking Hello Kitty pants that Peter had been arrested and released in - and was still wearing.

The pictures of his arrest had been on twitter for gods sake. He was trending as #hellokittyguy. It was all his students were talking about.

“Oh, I’d slept in,” was all Peter said.

“You slept in. To a protest.”

“Irresponsible, I know. I’m already beating myself up, don’t worry.”

At this stage, Tony can’t even find himself to be bothered by it. He’s so used to the sound of the koto, the wind flute and kalimba from next door that it’s damn near unsettling to go without it. Tony’s used to the weird attire, from the ponchos and the sandals and the fisherman pants in mid-winter, the beaded bracelets and rose quartz pendants. He’s even used to finding Peter knocking on his door, asking for salt or milk or handing him personalised organza bags filled with small crystals and incense cones and charms.

And if he looks forward to their talks at the door? It’s only Tony’s business.

One night Peter sets off the fire alarm from burning rope incense. He says he got it when he went to Nepal, apologising profusely to the grouchy occupants who send him withering stares.

Tony doesn’t even ask, too busy staring at Peters lithe, muscled frame that had been hiding under the baggy clothes. The man is clad only in his underwear, didn’t think to grab anything when he’d fled to the emergency meeting point.

It’s three in the morning. Tony’s not even mad.

"Did you know your aura is gold and red,” Peter had asked that night, wandering over to him and accepting an offered a cigarette.

“No,” Tony yawned, taking a drag and wishing he was back in his own bed, fire truck lights flashing, dizzying and disorienting.

“S’nice. Pretty.”

Peter wraps his arms around himself and shivers, the cool night air sending goosebumps over his pale skin.

Tony quickly shrugs his own jacket off his shoulders and offers it to Peter so he doesn’t have to stare at the obscene way his nipples harden.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re a sweetheart.”

“I’m not - it’s not a big deal,” Tony grumbles. “You looked like you needed it, so.”

Peter smothers his smile in the collar of Tony’s jacket. Tony still sees it.

His stomach squirms like the first time he held someones hand.

“Do you want to have dinner sometime?” Peter asks, as they pile back upstairs an hour later after the building has been cleared.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony agrees, eyeing the dimples of Peters lower back and the crevice of his muscles where his spine rests. He’s got an ass that’s so perfect it deserves to be worshipped but Tony isn’t looking at it. He’s not.

“Tomorrow work for you?”

Tony nods, watching Peter disappear back into his apartment with an awkward wave and a smile. He’s still wearing Tony’s jacket.

If Tony goes back inside his apartment and jerks off to the image of Peter wearing just his jacket and nothing else, well then, no one else needs to know.

----

The following evening Tony knocks on Peters door, dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. He adjusts his glasses where they perch on his nose as he waits, sliding them up as Peter opens the door, beckoning him inside.

The interior looks very different to Tony’s apartment, is the first thing he notices.

Plants hang from the ceiling, there is a large afghan rug in the living room, all the furniture is mismatched, a sofa and an armchair with different patterns and colours, all the bookshelves are of different wood and sizes.

There are cushions everywhere, crystals and rocks on almost every surface, incense burning by the open window, stacks and stacks of books on the divine and lunar charts on the walls. Michelle Branch is playing unironically from the speakers on Peters bookshelves.

“I didn’t know what to bring, so,” Tony mumbles, tearing his eyes away from a copy of the Karma Sutra and holding up store bought cake and a bottle of red wine.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Peter gushes, kissing Tony’s cheek and taking the items from him and herding him onto the sofa. “Sit, sit. I’ll be right back.”

Tony sits, a little dazed. The spot on his cheek where Peters lips touched his skin burns.

There’s an old TV in the corner and a CD player straight out of the nineties nestled in the corner between book stacks.

There’s two magazines on the coffee table: National Geographic and Cosmopolitan. God, Peter is so, so...

Charming, is the word that comes unbidden to Tony’s mind when Peter bounds back into the living room, two glasses of wine clutched in his hands, the charms on his beaded bracelets clinking together. He’s barefoot, Tony notices. His toenails are painted black, too.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Peter begins, passing Tony a glass and sitting beside him on the sofa.

“Oh, god,” Tony winces. “You’re not an anti-vaxxer, are you?”

He didn’t even think about that.

“What,” Peter blinks. “No.”

“Okay, good. Sorry. Continue.”

“I’m, uh, kinda broke. I know I invited you to dinner but all I have is cup ramen and Corona.”

“Oh,” Tony says, watching at how Peter smiles sheepishly, “That’s okay. I like cup ramen. I mean, I’m a student, so.”

“Is that okay?” Peter asks, cringing as he casts a look over to his tiny kitchenette. “Sorry, I was so shocked that you even agreed to come that I couldn’t even think.”

“Mercury in retrograde?” Tony guesses.

“No,” Peter laughs, looking at his hands bashfully. “You’re just really cool and handsome and sophisticated and I don’t know. It wasn’t in my tarot, so.”

It wasn’t in his tarot, Tony repeats in his mind, wondering when exactly he hit his head and found all of this attractive. He’s a man of science, alright?

“You been crushin’ on me, huh?” Tony asks, shifting closer until their thighs and shoulders touch.

“Yeah. You make me kinda nervous.”

“Well your tarot can’t tell you that I think you’re beautiful,” Tony reasons, sipping his wine. “Or delightful. Or that I think the way you swing your legs when you’re waiting for your drying is adorable.”

The flush that comes over Peters cheeks makes Tony’s heart beat faster.

“You really think that?”

“Against my better judgement,” Tony admits.

“What was it that did you in?” Peter asks, leaning in, drawing his knees up and looking like a pleased cat. “Was it the green fluorite? The rutilated quartz?”

Tony leans in to bridge the gap, pressing his lips against Peter’s in a sweet kiss. He tastes like coffee and wine and everything smells like lemongrass and palo santo.

“Just your cute, quirky self,” Tony says against his lips. “And maybe the blue calcite.”

Peter laughs against his mouth. “I knew it.”

---

Later, when Tony is curled up against Peter’s bare chest, still catching his breath, Peter asks him on a second date.

“There’s a climate change rally at the State Library this weekend, if you’re interested. We could have matching signs and drink Corona after.”

“Baby,” Tony yawns, eyes heavy, “you do that thing with your tongue again and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Sweet,” Peter says, pressing a kiss into Tony’s hair.

Yeah, Tony thinks as he drifts off, it is.

#starker #starker fic #next door neighbour au #fluff #no shade on peter #peter is me #tony x peter #spideriron

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Prince and the Pauper (Who Drives An Uber) Ch. 5

(Prince Steve flees his wedding, and asks his Uber driver to take him bowling...and on a date. WIP) Part One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Billy stumbled into his room, wishing he'd drunk a little less, and flopped onto his bed—then slapped around beside him for where he could hear Steve’s muffled laughter, and found his phone. “Steve,” he mumbled.

“You sound sleepy,” Steve told him, and Billy growled.

“My dick isn’t,” he muttered, and Steve laughed again. “It’s not,” Billy snarled, yanking his jeans open. “Heard your voice.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said. “...that happens to me, too.”

“Your dick likes me?” Billy asked, feeling kind of fuzzily like it was a weird question to ask, but Steve sounded like he was smiling when he said “Yeah, Billy, it does.”

“What about your hands,” Billy asked, sliding his shirt up to his chest. “They like touching me?”

Steve muttered something that sounded like vlakoss, or vlakas, maybe, and Billy mouthed it to himself, so he’d remember. “All of me likes you,” Steve said softly, and Billy rolled sideways into his blankets, laughing into his pillow as he flushed.

“...lemme put you on video,” he whispered, feeling kind of like they were hiding, together in his bed.

His face warmed further as Steve whispered back, “Show me.”

Billy’s fingers were clumsy, but finally he could see his prince, leaning back on a shiny green overstuffed chair kind of thing, in a soft yellowy robe, his skin lit with warm morning light. He was smiling, his hair bed-ruffled.

“...oh,” Billy said, biting his lips together, and hoping Steve couldn’t really see the taco stains on his shirt, or the Thomas the Tank Engine twin-size sheets Max had picked up as a joke at Value Village.

“Want to turn another light on?” Steve asked, and Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

“You can see more than enough,” he said, grimacing, and Steve frowned.

“I can barely—”

“Shut up, it’s fine,” Billy sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Look, I’m—I’m going to bed, actually. I’ll—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Steve blinked back at him, wide-eyed, and Billy hung up, yanking the pillow over his head with a groan.

His text alert—it was the treasure chest noise from one of Max’s Zelda games—made its ting ting ting noise, and he lifted the pillow to look. Sleep well, Steve had sent. I miss you.

Billy nearly called him back, staring at the words, and then sat up and yanked his stained t-shirt off. He flung it into the corner with the other dirty laundry, and then sighed, and stumbled out of bed to gather it all up and stomp downstairs to the laundry room. When he got there, he had no quarters, and he sat heavily against a washer, wiping his eyes, until the door creaked open, and it was Max, carrying the box of detergent.

“What gives,” she said suspiciously, and he shrugged.

“...just thought I’d do some laundry, y’know,” he said, laughing. “I’m such a fucking slob.”

“Did he say something,” she bit out, shooting him a glare as she fed quarters into the machine.

“...he didn’t,” Billy sighed, rolling his shoulders, and frowning around the laundry room. “Stinks in here.”

“It’s apartment 312,” Max growled. “She washes and lets it rot. All the time.”

“Once I have my degree I’ll get us somewhere better,” Billy promised, wincing. “Once I get a real job.”

“It’s not so bad,” Max told him, grabbing his wrist and hauling him back out. “Come on, you don’t need to watch, that washer knows what it’s doing.”

“...didn’t look all that smart to me,” Billy told her as she drug him back upstairs, not because he desperately wanted to stick around smelling the sour, heavy funk of rotting laundry, but because Max was handling him again, like she was the adult. “I bet I’m smarter than that washer.”

“I sure hope so,” Max told him, shoving him inside their apartment. “You, uh…” she said, glancing up at him, and then frowning, and Billy tried to stop being an asshole.

“I’m fine, Max, play your game,” he told her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He opened his mouth to try and argue with her cutting look—proving he was actually not smarter than a washing machine, really—and his texts chimed again. It was just a red heart emoticon, but Billy’s whole body warmed again at the thought of Steve sitting there for so long, typing and then deleting. He started to send back a kissy face, and then realized it’d be obvious he wasn’t asleep, and Steve would call, and Billy groaned, mashing his face against his phone.

“...is he being a dipshit?” Max asked, reaching up to grab his phone, and Billy stuck it in his pocket.

“Get one out we can both play,” he told her, waving at the Xbox and dropping on the couch. She grinned, delighted and a little evil, before rummaging around and returning with a selection of five. They looked like little kid games, he thought, all bright colors, but it wasn’t like he needed to murder zombies, so he decided to let Max cheer him up. He hummed thoughtfully, and let her lean in and advise—ruffling her hair to make her yell—before sitting elbow-to-elbow with her until nearly midnight, yelling insults at each other and at the screen.

Over the next few weeks, his most royal prince-ness kept texting, sending pictures of everything from a frog he found in a downspout licking its own eyeball to pictures of plasticine-covered dead people in a museum exhibit. There were rows and rows of people posed like they were playing tennis, or crouching, their skin peeled back to show musculature.

I’m in Germany…said the text, with a picture of Steve posing with a horse whose skin and muscles rippled out like its mane. “#notaserialkiller” he sent, immediately after.

tell that to the horse judge, Billy sent back, grinning.

“Who is this guy,” Max asked, leaning her sharp little chin on his shoulder as Billy flipped his phone so she couldn’t see the screen. He tried to tuck it into his Trig textbook, and it slid out. “Your Uber fare?”

“He’s, uh, he’s not the kind of guy I usually date,” Billy said, swallowing, and thinking about his last ‘date’ before Steve, who he’d never seen in daylight. Billy’d awoken—hungover, late to class, on the floor, with his head pillowed on the remains of a half-eaten six-foot Subway sandwich, and a used condom stuck to his thigh—to Max’s unimpressed glower. He tried to imagine Steve’s clothes on his apartment floor. A crown on his bedside table. “He, uh. He’s a good tipper.”

“That’s a good sign,” Max told him, blowing into his hair as she sighed, her weight against his back, watching the microwave rattle its way through heating her Hot Pocket. She leaned to flip the phone over—My Prince, it proclaimed. Three missed calls.

“He’s a nice guy,” Billy told her, trying to grab his phone back. “He’s too nice, probably. Calls me his bad idea.”

“If he calls you a bad idea,” she enunciated carefully, through gritted teeth, “—he’s not nice.”

“No, he’s—it’s not—” Billy groaned, then scrambled to try and snatch the phone back from his sister as she hit redial. “Give it back,” he growled, and she raised her eyebrows, knowing he wouldn’t so much as step towards her angry, since—since they’d written everything down, how much he’d drink, and when, and how often he’d see his therapist, and came up with rules about when he was angry. “Max,” he hissed, through his teeth, and she smiled her widest fake smile and turned away to talk on the phone.

“Yeah, hey, it’s Billy’s sister,” she said. “Oh, gee, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no,” Billy muttered, trying to block her in around the table, so he could grab the phone, but she paced away, keeping the table between them.

“Your bad idea has a sister, didja know? Oh? Huh. Yeah, shut the hell up now. How come you’re giving my brother shit when he calls you his prince, huh?”

It sounded like Steve just said “Uhhhh,” and Max growled just like her brother.

“You got money?” she asked sweetly, and Billy slid across the table and grabbed for the phone. She grabbed his little finger and bent it, making him spin in place to face the wall, cursing the self-defense he’d taught her. “Yeah? Okay, how come you’re snogging my brother in bowling alley bathrooms? How come he’s secret, huh? You in the closet?”

“Max, stop,” Billy hissed, but she’d frozen in place, and dropped Billy’s hand to grab the phone with both of hers.

“...I don’t know!” she sort of whisper-yelled, and he started laughing.

“What,” she whispered, and Billy started to snicker. “What are you—what?!”

“Give him back!” Billy whispered. “He’s a prince, right?!”

“I don’t know where he wants to go!” she hissed into the phone, waving Billy off. “But you should ask him!”

“Give him back,” Billy begged. “Max!”

“Fine!” she yelled, slapping the phone into Billy’s hand.

He could hear Steve laughing. Billy took a relieved breath, and held it to his ear. “Glad you’re still there.”

“Your sister loves you so much,” Steve told him, and Billy glared after her.

“Loves making fun of me, maybe—”

“She’s right, no, she’s right, pick somewhere you’d like to go, okay? I should take you someplace nice.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Billy told him, with a snort. “I seriously don’t care.”

“No, no, look, I found this restaurant, it’s like. There are knights. They fight each other. On horses. We could bring her?”

“...what,” Billy mumbled, blinking.

“It’s, um, it’s a medieval...kind of thing. Would she like it?”

“Death-match dining? Fuck yeah.”

“Okay,” Steve took a slow breath. “Okay.”

“...why you so worried, Prince Harrington?” Billy laughed. “You want my little sister to like a restaurant, Mister Royal? My Stevie Wonder?” Billy asked, feeling over-warm again, even next to the air conditioner.

“What?!” Steve laughed. “She’s important to you,” he said, sounding a litle confused, and Billy started laughing, not even because anything was funny, just his stupid feelings leaking out everywhere.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, yeah.”

“I, uh,” Steve said, and cleared his throat. “Um. So. Nancy and Barb are having their honeymoon later, next—next year, they wanted to know if, uh. Uh, um.”

“Want me to suggest words?” Billy laughed. “I can just say words, tell me when I hit the right one. ‘Chickadee’ is a word, is that any help?”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Steve said, but it sounded like he was smiling. “Darn you. They wanted to know if we want to...drive and meet them. Road trip. Thought I’d be your Uber fare again.”

“...you...what?” Billy mumbled. “You want me to…”

“We can fix it so you don’t miss too much class,” Steve wheedled. “They just need to know your schedule. Max could come.” There was a pause, and then he talked really fast, all in one breath. “Lot of Uber fare, there. I mean, if you’re—if you’re afraid of missing work. You don’t have to come though, it’s okay—”

“No, I—” Billy swallowed, dry-mouthed, imagining—how long?! At least a week?! Of sharing hotel rooms with his prince. “I—yes. Yeah. I wanna go, yeah—”

“Hey,” Steve said, and stopped, and Billy shut his eyes.

“—if you want me to,” he said quickly, wiping his suddenly-sweaty hand on his jeans. “—if you’re not just—you don’t have to—” he tried to take a silent deep breath. “Don’t have to see me if you don’t want to—”

“Babe, babe, no,” Steve told him. “Come on, take a breath, okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, and did, holding his phone with both hands so it wouldn’t shake.

“Billy Hargrove,” Steve said, “—you know you’re not a bad idea, right?”

“I’m your bad idea,” Billy told him, laughing, and wiping his nose.

“No, no, no—no, I didn’t—I never meant—you’re a good idea. Billy. You’re such a good idea.”

“Bullshit,” Billy whispered, laughing.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, and the phone went kind of staticky, like he took it away from his ear. Billy could hear his voice speaking...some language. He’d have to see whether they offered Greek or Danish classes at the college, he thought, listening. When Steve’s voice came back, he was still mumbling in definitely-not-English.

“Need to call me back?” Billy asked.

“What?! No! I need to—I just didn’t—augh,” Steve groaned. “Look. Puttemus. You are a good idea. Leaving my wedding to go bowling without calling anyone was a bad idea. Taking a stranger to my hotel for sex was a bad idea. I—ag—argh, Billy. I did—I did that because I was upset, and—”

“Are you...swearing at me?” Billy asked, fascinated.

Steve’s end of the call went staticy again, and Billy heard him roar—kind of pathetically, like a baby predator at the zoo. “No! You aren’t listening!”

“Oh, I’m listening,” Billy told him.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Steve said hurriedly. “Not someone, you. I’m so—thank you for being there. You made me feel better, I—” he started mumbling again, incomprehensibly, and Billy listened, smiling.

“Need to learn more languages, don’t I?”

“...how will I mutter about how stupid I am if you can hear me,” Steve huffed. “I’ll have to make up words.”

“...speak English,” Billy told him. “I can’t tell you if you’re being a dumbass right now if I don’t understand.”

Steve took a deep breath. “I—I think about you all the time. Not just—not just you naked, I—I want to take you on a boat. I want to watch you out on the water, let you relax. In—in the sun. I want—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath. “—I want you with me. I want you here, I know that isn’t—possible always, but I want that—”

Billy was doing his breathing exercises, holding it in for a few seconds, letting it out, not because he felt bad, but he was feeling a lot.

“I’m yours,” he laughed. “I-I mean, as much as you want me. I need to be here for Max, but…”

Steve groaned. “I want to see you. Damn it.”

Billy trotted to his room, and hit video call as he dropped to lie back across his bed. “Hey,” he whispered as Steve answered, frowning intently at his phone in a flurry of feedback noises.

The tall white arches around him blurred as he walked quickly down a hall, then sat against the wall under some huge portrait with a gold frame. He sighed. “No, this is worse, look at you.”

“I can’t see my own face, my eyeballs don’t work like that,” Billy said, licking his lips—he could try to be sexy, he thought, running his fingers slowly down his face to try and look seductive while checking for mustard—and Steve leaned out of frame, muttering in a language Billy didn’t understand.

“I want to see you, not just...see you,” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Well, I can’t fly to Europe,” Billy told him, “—so this is what you get.”

“I can’t kiss you like this,” Steve huffed, and Billy laughed, punching the pillow up behind his head.

“I could put on a show,” he offered. “Probably nothing that great—”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, then bit his lips, and frowned away. “Uh. Do—do you want to?”

“I got a couple hours,” Billy told him, trying not to squirm as his dick woke up in his jeans, and started feeling squished. “You wanna watch me get off?”

“So much,” Steve groaned. “Um, just a second, okay, I—I gotta make something up, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Steve—” Billy shouted, but the line was dead, and Billy had the sinking suspicion he always got with Steve Harrington, that Billy’s overeager dick was causing a war someplace.

The phone rang again, and Billy answered with “Don’t bail on your job just because I’m horny, christ—”

Steve laughed, his face lit mostly by the phone. “Lynn’s covering for me,” he said, as Billy squinted.

“Are...are you in a storage closet, or something?”

“No, I am not in the closet, I told public relations about you, and they’re figuring out what to say,” Steve said cheerfully, as Billy stared at him.

“...what...what did you tell them,” he whispered.

“I told them I had a boyfriend, and they should be prepared for somebody taking pictures, or something,” Steve said. “Why?

The idea of being the boyfriend was new to Billy, and he stared back. “...you tell people about me?” he asked softly, and Steve bit back a weird little spluttered laugh, grinning at him.

“I tell everyone about you,” he whispered. “I pick up my phone and everyone laughs and rolls their eyes, because I’m checking how long until I can call you, and if you’ve sent a text, everything stops until I send you hearts back.”

Billy, who’d been feeling a little dismissed when he’d ask a question, get a string of hearts, and no answer for five hours, groaned, smacking his hand over his face. “Kinda thought you were telling me to fuck off,” he mumbled into his hand.

“Wha—no, I—why?!” Steve yelped, waving his hands, one of which contained his phone, so everything whirled.

“You didn’t actually answer, I dunno, I just—”

“I can answer faster! I’ll answer faster,” Steve told him, grimacing. “I’m sorry—”

“No!” Billy laughed. “No, now I know what the hearts mean, I mean—you’re just busy.”

“I’m busy and I l-like you,” Steve told him, a little clumsy over his words, for somebody who probably had a speech coach. “And I wish I wasn’t busy. But I’m checking my phone, because if you need me I’m not busy, not for you, I just don’t know whether—”

“Relax, your highness,” Billy told him, grinning. “It’s cute.”

“I’m never ignoring you, you’re too distracting,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed, and Billy laughed.

“You still wanna see me strip down?” he asked, cocking his head against the pillow, and Steve laughed.

“More than almost anything, I just wish I could touch—”

“Mmmm,” Billy said, taking the zipper of his hoodie between two fingers, and dragging it slowly down his body, his hand flat. “Maybe you better hurry back and do that, then.”

“God, I wish I could,” Steve whispered, as Billy reached back up to slowly pull one side of his open sweatshirt off his chest, revealing his grotty t-shirt, washed until it was the greyish color all t-shirts eventually ended up. “...you look so soft,” Steve whispered. “Is that t-shirt as soft as it looks?”

“...what,” Billy said, having frozen at the word soft, because he’d been drinking less beer, and he’d thought he’d prevented his developing beer gut, but then Steve looked at his stomach—“My...t-shirt?”

“Your t-shirt,” Steve breathed, “—and your hoodie. You look so soft, I want to squeeze you.”

“Soft,” Billy repeated, unimpressed. “Soft?!”

“Oh, he thinks he’s hard,” Steve laughed. “Only your dick, babe.”

“The man who was that disappointed he couldn’t get a buffalo wings plushie does not get to lecture me about being soft—” Billy told him, growling, but Steve laughed.

“I just wanted a souvenir. I kept a coaster.”

“...you what,” Billy muttered, disbelieving.

“I kept a coaster,” Steve said cheerfully. “From our first date. At the bowling alley.”

“You what...took it back home with you?” Billy asked, sneering a little, but he could feel how wide his eyes were.

“If I can’t drink my Billy, I’ll at least—” Steve began, slyly, but Billy started laughing so hard he stopped.

“If you’re so thirsty, how come you’re telling me I’m soft instead of seeing the evidence otherwise,” Billy asked, still snickering. He held the phone out to show the lump of his dick in his jeans.

Steve shut up quite respectfully after that, and Billy got to finally tease him with the slow zipper reveal. “Put your hands everywhere,” Steve whispered. “Pretend they’re mine.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Billy told him, waggling his fingers. “Where d’you want to touch me...your highness?”

“...everywhere,” Steve said again, his brain taking a second to catch up, and then, “Oh, ah, touch—push your jeans down, I can’t see.”

Billy snorted softly, thinking maybe he needed to try and get...something sexier, to have on already, when this kind of thing happened. He couldn’t always be wearing stained, stretched-out cotton. He sat the phone aside—Steve yelped—and shimmied out of his old saggy jeans, and then grimaced down at the holes along the elastic waistband of his briefs, and yanked those off too. The threadbare t-shirt went next, he pulled it off over his head, and then ran his fingers through his hair, wishing cologne worked through the phone, or that he’d shaved. “Prince tames wild jungle beast,” he muttered, glaring into the mirror over his dresser in the dim light. “—suspected to be time traveling caveman.”

“Billy?!” came Steve’s voice, laughing, and Billy groaned, scooping it up, and dropping back to lie on the bed.

“Should I get like a...g-string, or something,” Billy blurted out, angling the phone so Steve could see his hard dick, which was looking stellar, he thought, surrounded by the red marks from his jeans, on a body that hadn’t gone tanning in recorded history.

Steve bit back a laugh. “A what?” he asked.

“You know, those stripper wedgies,” Billy said, frowning. “Instead of my stretched-out gray cotton undies…”

“Are they comfortable?” Steve kind of wheezed, and Billy rolled his eyes.

“I feel like I need to up my game, what with all your...everything,” he said, waving at his prince’s gleaming medals. “Look, my dick’s sprung a leak,” he growled, pointing at it smearing pre-come over his belly, and feeling his face flush as Steve made a weird swallowed moaning noise.

“I’m honored,” Steve said, in a strangled voice, and Billy couldn’t help it, he started cackling. “Billy,” Steve said, softly, and Billy’s dick bounced. Billy smacked his hand down over it, blushing hotter. “...you don’t need a G-strip,” Steve said, and Billy laughed harder. “Billy,” Steve whispered again, and Billy’s cock jerked again, and Billy curled onto his side he was laughing so hard. “Billy,” Steve groaned, but he was laughing too. “I love your clothes,” he said, and Billy tried to shut up and listen, shaking with snickers, and wiping his eyes. “You feel good. My clothes are scratchy—”

“Your clothes are fucking silk,” Billy told him, grinning. “Don’t try and tell me you’re always in that stupid uniform, highness.”

“Every time I see you in your soft shirts I want to hold you,” Steve breathed, and Billy swallowed back a soft grunt at the thought of the crown prince of anywhere wanting to put hands on him. “I want to slide my hands up underneath.”

“Now you’re talking,” Billy said, grinning, rubbing his thumb over the wetness at the tip of his dick.

“I can’t touch you from here,” Steve said, softly, and Billy sighed, then, reluctantly, took his hand off his cock, and scraped his fingernails down his chest, and up his abs. Steve sounded like he choked.

His big brown eyes looked deeper in the shadowy light of the storage closet, and Billy watched him stare, licking his lips. Billy rolled back onto his back, smoothing the flat of his hand up his thigh, and over his belly to grip himself on the ribs in a one-armed hug, and Steve made a soft noise in his throat. “Cristos,” he muttered.

“You’re so easy,” Billy laughed.

“Only for you, malaka,” Steve laughed, and he sounded so fond Billy flushed hot, staring at his face, and repeating the word in his head, wondering what he’d just been called. “...with only the light from your mobile, it looks like candlelight.”

Billy laughed, feeling a little gooey, like one of those chocolate cakes that were melted inside. He tried not to squirm, panting as Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sure, blue candlelight—”

“I wish I could kiss you,” Steve said softly. “Lean over you, slide my hand down to thumb over your cock.”

“Jesus,” Billy panted, gripping himself as instructed, his dick hard as a rock in his hands.

“If I was actually there I’d put my mouth over it,” Steve huffed, and Billy groaned, licking his hand so he could jack himself. His feet started to cramp, he was clenching them so hard, trying not to just jizz all over himself at the sound of his prince’s voice, and he shifted, trying to take deep breaths. “Suck you down,” Steve whispered.

Billy came over his fingers, panting, and Steve sighed.

“...I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “Sorry I had to leave, I mean, I’d...I’d just met you, and—thanks for waiting for me, Billy.”

“...there’s not really a long line of people beating down my door,” Billy mumbled, curling up, and pulling the blanket over himself as the breeze from the fan over his sweat made him shiver.

“Thank you for waiting,” Steve said again, softly. “I want to kiss you as soon as I can.”

Two months later, Billy was paying bills, while Max hovered around saying things like “I don’t really have to go on school trips, they can’t make me,” and “These sneakers are fine.” When he was done, there was just enough money to pay rent, the water bill, and send Max on the trip with some food money, and Billy folded forward on the table, dropping his face with a thud among the envelopes. His heart was pounding. “...maybe some new shoes next time,” he mumbled, and Max kicked his chair.

“These are fine,” she said stoutly, and he eyed the frayed, greying converses where they sat next to the duct tape. She’d started just wrapping the whole shoe every couple of weeks, and they smelled horrible in the summer heat. “It’s so hot the tape kinda sticks to the sidewalks,” she said, like that wasn’t depressing, and then, “—and I know they’ve got no traction now, so I’m more careful on the stairs,” which was worse.

“...yeah,” he sighed.

“...this prince of yours,” she said, and he smiled automatically.

“Yeah?”

“...you trust him, right?”

Billy opened his eyes, frowning at her, and she shrugged, biting her lips. “...yeah, I trust him,” he said, feeling his stomach twist a little—he trusted Steve to act like Steve, but Billy couldn’t help wondering at what point his life would wear Steve to the end of his patience. “What d’you mean, Max?”

She stared back for a long moment, then bit her lips. “...nothing.”

“Why are you asking?” Billy asked, trying to think of what she could have seen, passing through while he and Steve played League of Legends.

“Nothing, moron, shut up, he’s so into you, stop freaking out.”

“O-okay,” he said, burying his face in his arms to hide his grin.

“God, stop,” she sighed, but she was gentle as she punched his shoulder on the way by.

My other Harringrove stuff

#Harringrove #Long distance relationship #But soft #I promise #They love each other so much

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superfem-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Friend

Requested by @lostshadow12 I hope you like it

Words: 2255

Sanvers x fem!reader

------

Alex was sitting in a booth at Noonins, Maggie to her right and Kara sat across from them. Alex noticed that, although she was holding a conversation, her sister would intermediately check her phone or glance at the door.

“Alright Little Danvers, spill.” Head jerking from the direction of the door, Kara fixed her gaze on Maggie.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kara laughed nervously, glancing at the detective before looking at her phone.

“You keep looking at the door and your phone.” Maggie pointed out with raised eyebrows and a deliberate glance at the phone in question.

Spluttering, Kara tried to deny it before giving up when met with the brunette’s unwavering look. “Ok, ok! I wanted to introduce you guys to my best friend but I didn’t want you to interrogate her! She’s kind of nervous and you guys can be scary sometimes.”

“She’s coming here?” Alex asked, eyebrows raised. At the blondes sheepish nod, Alex sighed. “Alright when?”

“Now?” The word came out as a question, crinkle set in place. Turning to the door, Kara drew the gaze of the two women that way. Walking through the door was an elderly woman.

Tilting her head, Maggie leaned forward. “The elderly lady?” At Kara’s “No” Maggie turned back to the door, noticing a figure holding it open. Walking through the door was a girl about their age, (h/l)(h/c) framing her face and a kind smile directed towards the older woman. Turning away from the woman, you scan the tables before finding Kara’s beaming smile.

Couple quick strides later you were sliding into the booth next to Kara, playfully shoving her over and complaining about her taking up so much space. Once you finally looked at them, Maggie found her breath taken away. She was quickly snapped out of her trance when you held out your hand.

“Hey, you must be Maggie yeah?” At the brunette’s nod you smiled brightly. “My names (Y/n),” you grasped Maggie’s hand before turning to Alex, the short contact left the couple’s hands tingling.

“This is my best friend,” Kara grabbed you in a loose headlock, playfully ruffling your hair. At the amused looks you were getting, you blushed a deep red and pinched Kara’s side. Kara let you go, pretending to be hurt while you looked at her amused. “I’m glad you guys are finally meeting, now you can come to game night!” Kara was practically buzzing in her seat, a bright grin lighting up her face.

“Let’s get through lunch first, Kara.” You chuckle, shaking your head and standing up. “I’m gonna get me some coffee real quick.” The trio watched as you walked up to the counter, carefully weaving around people.

A quick punch to her arm caught Kara’s attention, the Kryptonian turning to glare at her sister. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about her? I don’t even know her name, yet she knows ours.” Alex reprimanded, glaring at her younger sister.

“Because you guys are scary on your own, let alone together.” Kara pointed out again, frowning at her sister. “Get along with her, please?”

Alex’s glare softened, and she nodded. Leaning back, something out of the corner of her eye caught Alex’s attention. Turning, she noticed you glaring at a taller guy, hand held behind you and resting on the arm of a petite brunette. Frowning, Alex was just getting up to intervene when a tugging on her wrist distracted her.

“Watch,” Kara simply said, letting Alex go once she was seated again. All three watched as you stepped closer to the guy, meeting the man's gaze unflinching and sure. You said something to him, lifting your chin and watching as the guy backed down. Palms held out, the man backed away and left.

You sat down and smiled at the woman, head ducked slightly as you quietly talked to her. Wondering what was happening Alex turned to her sister, asking her to tell them. Kara tilted her head slightly, before giving a fond smile.

“The man was hitting on the woman and making her uncomfortable, (y/n) intervened.” Kara shrugged simply, watching until you got your drink and headed back to them. Sliding into the booth, you frowned at how the couple was looking at you. Head tilted, you glanced at Kara.

“Did I miss something?” Kara chuckled, shaking her head fondly.

“They wanted to know what was happening with the guy so I told them.” You nodded, looking at the women across from you.

“He was hitting on a girl so I handled it.” You shrugged, taking a sip from your cup. Once Alex asked what you said, you smiled and shrugged again, cheeks slightly pink. “I told him I was sitting with a police officer and an FBI agent, he apologized and left.” Looking down at your lap, you chuckled. “She gave me her number.”

“Another?” Kara asks, looking at the napkin you were holding. At her sister’s questioning look Kara shakes her head. “She tends to draw the attention of the ladies.” Kara elbows you with a shit eating grin. You set the napkin down and grinned back at the blonde.

“Hey, last I checked you were one of the women I accidentally wooed,” your grin widened when Kara flushed a dark red and started fiddling with her glasses. Before you could tease her about it more, your phone buzzed. You got up and tucked your phone and the napkin away, smiling apologetically. “Work, gotta go.”

“Game night?” Kara pouted, giving you her puppy eyes.

“Yeah,” you groaned, pushing her face away. “Text me the details. It was nice meeting you guys, I’ll see you later?” At the couple's nods, you nod and walk away, holding the door open for a little boy, giving him a playful bow before leaving.

Alex watched you go, lip caught in her teeth and mind turning. You were a whirlwind; sweet, shy and bashful yet confident, sure and fierce. You had intrigued her, and one look at Maggie confirmed you had caught her attention too.

Before anyone else could talk, Kara’s phone was beeping and she was up and packing. “Duty calls, I’ll see you guys later?” At the confirmation, Kara dropped a few bills on the table and left, sweeping through the doors with a faint jingle.

“Well,” Alex breathed, turning to her girlfriend. “That was interesting.”

“She was interesting,” Maggie corrected, brushing her hand through her hair. The two shared a look, knowing what the other was thinking. The possibility of bringing a third person into the relationship had been talked about, but the two never found someone they thought would work. Although they had just met you, the couple had a good feeling about what may come.

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

Alex popped the tab off of her beer, leaning against the kitchen counter. The boys had arrived shortly after Alex and Maggie and were currently talking to Lena about something. Kara was sorting through board games while Maggie watched. Everyone was here except the one person she was waiting for.

On the other side of the door you gently bounced on the balls of your feet. Noise from the apartment filtered through the door faintly, not helping your nerves. You could leave, but Kara more than likely already knows your lingering in the hall. Damn Kryptonian hearing. With one deep breath you knocked on the door, ready for Kara’s bubbly smile.

Hearing the knock, Alex watched as both Kara and Maggie perked up. Catching her sister's eye, Alex indicated that she’d get the door. Opening it, Alex paused to take you in. A soft f/c sweater was paired with some dark jeans, leading down to some flat soled boots. Catching her breath, Alex smiled at you.

“Hey,” Alex opened the door wider and stepped out of the way, clearing her throat as you passed by her. “Glad you could make it.”

“I almost left but I couldn’t disappoint the puppy,” You joked, kicking off your boots and leaving them by Kara’s. Alex smiled at your mismatched socks, closing the door behind you.

“Well we definitely wouldn’t want that,” Catching Kara’s pout, Alex laughs. Leading you into the apartment, Alex pops open a beer and hands it to you. Alex goes over to stand by Maggie as Kara introduces you to the others.

“I’m nervous,” Alex murmurs, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman. “What if we make her uncomfortable? Kara would kill me if she stopped coming to game night, especially since she just started.”

“I’m nervous too, babe. Do you still want to do this?” Maggie turns around, catching Alex’s eye. At the redhead’s vigorous nod, Maggie smiles softly at her. “Try not to worry. We’ll make it clear that we don’t expect her to say yes if she doesn’t want to and that we won’t make it weird for everyone if she says no, okay?”

“Okay,” Alex breaths, kissing Maggie before they move to rejoin everyone else.

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

By the end of the night Alex was sure of her next move after seeing how comfortable you were in Kara’s apartment as you beat Winn in Mario Kart and listening to you talk about books with Lena. Alex was fairly certain she was looking at you the same way Kara was looking at Lena.

Alex caught Maggie’s eye as Kara left to walk Lena down to her driver, having a silent conversation as you stacked plates in the dishwasher. With one final nod, Alex turned towards the kitchen. “Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah?” You called back, shutting the washer and drying your hands. Coming back into the living room, you see Alex and Maggie sitting on the couch.

“Can we talk to you?” Alex rubbed her hands down her thighs, seeing you nod and move to sit on the couch next to her. Maggie moved to sit on the coffee table, pushing it back some so you wouldn’t feel boxed in.

“Alex and I have been talking,” Maggie starts, knowing Alex would blurt it out in her nervousness. “We want to start by saying that in no way are you obligated to say yes, it is completely up to you. And if you say no we promise that we won’t make it weird for you.” Confused, you nod and watch as the couple exchange a look. Steeling her nerves, Alex turns to face you.

“In the past we’ve discussed bringing in a third person, and although we don’t know you that well, you intrigue us. If you’d like, we want to take you on a date.” Biting her lip, Alex studies you.

“You aren’t talking about a threesome, right?” You ask, frowning. “Because if so, I’d have to say no.”

“No, of course not!” Alex exclaims as Maggie shakes her head. “We mean like an actual relationship.” Maggie explains, tilting her head.

“How would that work?” You ask, curious but not opposed to the idea.

“It’d be like a normal relationship, there’s just three of us. It’ll take more work and communication, but there’s not much of a difference.” You chew on your lip, mulling over what they had said. The couple had interested you in the cafe, and you had been nervous because they were attractive yet you knew that the both of them were unattainable. And now, they were telling you that it was a possibility.

“Okay,” You blurt, pausing to take a deep breath. “Okay.” You say more assuredly, smiling at the couple.

“Yeah?” Alex asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” You confirm, taking the redhead's hand. You reach out for Maggie’s hand too, pulling in into your lap. You smile down at your hands, feeling like you're in a dream. “Can I kiss you?”

“Which one of us?” Maggie quips, smirking at you. Rather than respond, you tug the detective off the coffee table and encourage her to sit on your lap.

“Is this okay?” You ask, setting your hands on the brunette’s thighs. In lieu of answering, Maggie leans down to capture your lips. Cupping your neck, Maggie smiles into the kiss. Gently nipping on your lip, Maggie releases you and leans back. Smiling down at you with her dimples showing, Maggie turns your face towards Alex.

Nuzzling your neck, Maggie whispers into your ear before leaning back. Alex watches her girlfriend smirk before she feels you tugging at her hand. Following your movements, Alex scoots closer before taking your bottom lip between hers. Lost in the kiss, Alex almost forgets who’s apartment they’re in.

Kara walks into her apartment to see you on the couch, Maggie in your lap and lips locked with Alex’s. Sighing, she tilts her head towards the ceiling. “Alright, I gotta say that this is not what I meant when I said get along. I’m happy for you guys but please shoo.”

She watches as you three get off the couch and put on your shoes, giving you a playful glare. As Alex and Maggie get their coats you walk up to Kara with a smirk. Rubbing your thumb on the corner of Kara’s mouth, you pull it back stained red.

“You’ll tell me about this later, Ka-ra.” You sing-song, dodging the blondes slaps as you laugh and pull Alex and Maggie out of the apartment. Kara shakes her head, it’s not how she thought the night would end but she is happy for you. Her phone digs on the counter, a text from Lena confirming their date lighting up the screen.

Definitely not how she saw the night ending, but good nonetheless.

#supergirl imagine #sanvers x reader #alex danvers x reader #maggie sawyer x reader #maggie sawyer imagine #alex danvers imagine #kara danvers x lena luthor #kara danvers x reader #fem!reader

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still doing prompts, how about L: “Loving you is easy. Living with you takes some getting used to.” for Chasemarsh? Seems fitting for those two. ;)

I’m going to level with you here: I never thought I would write chasemarsh, ever. As someone who was bullied hard by girls a whole lot like Victoria when I was a teen, I’ve never super gotten her appeal. And since Victoria canonically bullies Kate to the point of (attempted or otherwise) suicide... Yeah, chasemarsh isn’t really my cup of tea to be honest. So I hope you don’t mind that I went a bit AU with this one and set it in a universe where they didn’t go to school together and therefore don’t have that bully/bullying victim dynamic.

---

Victoria’s never been an easy person to live with. She knows this about herself. A lifetime of excessive familial wealth compounded by parental neglect has left her utterly incapable of being a good roommate. She tends to forget that people who do not keep her insomniac hours do not generally appreciate loud music after midnight. That if you’re sharing a DVR with someone else they think it rude if you delete their shows to make room for your own before they’ve had a chance to watch them. She forgets that dishes left scattered around the apartment will not migrate to the dishwasher by themselves and will, in fact, grow mold if left to their own devices for long enough. That dirty clothes, too, do not magically launder themselves when you do not have servants to take care of them for you. That roommates, for that matter, are not servants and do not appreciate being treated as such.

She’s lost more roommates than she can easily keep count of, honestly.

And so Victoria has gotten used to living alone. It’s not necessarily her preference - she can’t cook worth a damn, for one thing, and she gets lonely much too easily - but it has long been her lot.

Until she met Kate. Beautiful, sweet Kate, who’s never had a roommate flee the apartment in terror or in fury once in her life. Good, kind Kate who never raises her voice, never turns aside a person in need, never has a rude word to say about anyone. Lovely, sensitive Kate who opens up to strangers like they’re her oldest friends, who trusts so easily and so completely, whose smile could make the sun rise on command.

She’s exactly the kind of girl Victoria would have absolutely tortured in high school without knowing why she felt so compelled to ruin her life. But Victoria’s twenty-eight now; she’s a grown-ass woman with a masters degree who hasn’t lived under her parents’ roof in almost a decade and who has finally found a decent therapist, and so when she met this humble, gentle, adorable woman she asked her out for coffee like a normal human being instead of tearing her down like the closeted, self-loathing bully she used to be.

One coffee date turned into weekly coffee dates, which turned into twice weekly dinner dates, which turned into changing their NodFace statuses together, which turned into Kate packing up her ludicrously undersized apartment and her cat and moving into Victoria’s ludicrously oversized apartment with her.

It’s been almost five years since Victoria officially deemed herself incapable of cohabitation and gave up on attempting to share her living space (it’s not like she can’t afford rent on her own, after all, so why subject others to her awful living habits?). Living with Kate after living alone for so long is… It’s wonderful, honestly. Weird, definitely, but wonderful. Kate’s aged and one-eyed rescue cat, Nicodemus, has already claimed Victoria’s most comfortable recliner as his own property, clawing the suede to shit and coating it with a thick layer of white fur. He sleeps at Kate’s feet most nights, and the sound of his purring is almost as restful as Kate’s soft and even breathing. Kate makes tea at least twice a day - usually Irish breakfast in the morning and camomile or something fruity at night - so the kitchen always smells warm and welcoming. When Kate has time she cooks, and when she doesn’t they either have leftovers or Victoria orders in. Kate never forgets her turn to clean out Nico’s litter box, never forgets to put her dishes in the dishwasher, never neglects to put her laundry right in the hamper where it belongs.

Kate’s great to live with. The perfect girlfriend and the perfect roommate.

Victoria is… trying. So hard. She’s trying to remember to at least put her dishes in the sink or the washer instead of leaving them around the house until she runs out of clean dishes. She’s trying to make sure her laundry actually finds its way into the hamper, and she succeeds about eight times out of ten. She’s trying to remember to feed the cat when it’s her turn, to not delete Kate’s shows off the DVR, to not make too much noise when she wakes up in the middle of the night, to only take up one space in the driveway. She’s trying to clean up her own messes. She’s trying not to take advantage of Kate’s generosity.

Victoria is trying, but Victoria is failing. She realizes this when she returns from her morning jog and finds Kate curled up with Nico in “his” chair with her morning cup of tea and tears rolling down her cheeks. The coffee table is crowded with photography books, Victoria’s coffee cups from the last three (at least) days, and the Chinese takeout containers from last night that Victoria had sworn up and down she would put in the fridge. The smell of expired Chinese food nearly drowns out the earthy scent of Kate’s tea completely. Beneath that, Victoria can smell the litter box she was supposed to scoop out this morning before she left because it’s her turn and she forgot again. There are several places on the floor where it looks like Victoria melted into a puddle and left her clothes behind as they fell from her liquified body.

Kate looks up over the mess to Victoria, her sweet brow creased and her gentle eyes shimmering with tears.

“Katie…” Victoria’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the now obvious overwhelm. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I’ll fix it. I’m so sorry.”

Kate gestures helplessly at the disaster of a room around her. “Tori, I… This is horrible. I can’t relax like this. I’ll help, but I can’t do all of it. I’ve got work in an hour, and I can’t--”

Tears spring to Victoria’s eyes. Her head is spinning. She’s been here before too many times: a roommate cowering in horror of the trainwreck that is Victoria’s life, absolutely at her wit’s end with Victoria’s failings. “Katie, I swear, I’ll do better, I promise. Please don’t leave. I know I’m a mess, and this is all my fault, and you can’t take it anymore, but please don’t hate me. Please stay with me; I can’t lose you.”

“Hey,” Kate says tenderly, uncurling her hand from around Nico to beckon Victoria over. “Tori, sweetheart, I’m not leaving and I don’t hate you. I love you. Come here.”

Victoria wades through the mess and kneels by Kate’s side. Nico’s cool, wet nose sniffs at her forehead a couple of times before he loses interest and resumes sleeping on Kate’s lap, blissfully oblivious to Victoria’s heart breaking in her chest. She rests her head gratefully on the soothing warmth of Kate’s thigh, and Kate’s hand rests lightly in her hair, stroking it soothingly. “I’m sorry, Katie. I know I’m a nightmare to live with. I should have warned you before you moved in so you wouldn’t be stuck with me.” Tears weigh down Victoria’s eyelashes as her brain counts up her countless failings as a life partner and as a human being. “I don’t know why you love me,” she mumbles. “I’m a miserable person. I’m unloveable.”

“Victoria Chase,” Kate says softly but in a voice that brooks no argument. “You are not unloveable. Loving you is easy.” She glances around and giggles a bit despite her red-rimmed eyes. “Living with you takes some getting used to.” She brushes Victoria’s bangs out of her teary eyes gently enough that Victoria can actually believe that she is beloved. “But hey. We’ll both work on it. Together. Okay?”

“Okay,” Victoria sighs into the comfort of Kate’s skin, and she lets the tension drain from her shoulders. She isn’t perfect, and she never will be. But she’s becoming a better person every day. And if Kate is willing to stay with her through it, maybe she can become a better roommate, too.

#prompt fill #prompt fic #prompt ghost #ghost writes #fanfic #life is strange #victoria chase #kate marsh #chasemarsh #alternate universe where victoria didn't bully the crap out of kate

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