#and the moment she takes it an inch too far I’m sending an email to upper management

[twicearoundthebend]

found out one of the managers at work uses the f-slur regularly (she’s cis/straight) time to gaslight her into thinking I never told her I was bi

[marie-swriting]

The Slut Of Hawkins - Steve Harrington [1/2]

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Part two

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : You're paying for the consequences of dating Steve Harrington.

Warnings : italics are for flashbacks, Slutshaming, school bullying (reader getting bullied) (talk to someone if you're being bullied!), implied sex, Steve is a bit of a coward, bad relationship with parents, angst, sad ending, fighting.

Word count : 3.5k

Song inspiration : Because I Liked A Boy by Sabrina Carpenter

The laughs were filling the fresh air of the early night. Laying on your backyard trampoline, you were cuddling against Steve. You had been getting closer recently and you had to admit, it made you feel good to have someone to talk to, especially when your parents weren’t there - which was pretty often, that night was another proof.

Steve held you a bit tighter in his arms while you were talking about your favourite singers. You had said some names like Madonna, Bowie though, it was the mention of The Beatles that caught his attention.

“The album Help! is definitely my favourite.” Steve informed you.

“Same for me, I love all of the songs but You’re Going To Lose That Girl and It’s Only Love have a special place in my heart.” you said whilst Steve looked away. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just that It’s Only Love was our song, to me and Nancy.”

“You really loved her, didn’t you?”

“She was my first love. Unfortunately, it ended pretty badly. It became complicated after her best friend Barbara disappeared. Besides, I have to admit, I was at fault, too but I’m trying to be better.”

“I’m sure you will.” you affirmed hugging him a bit more against you. “You’re not the same Steve you used to be. We wouldn’t be here, otherwise. You’re a good person, Steve, don’t doubt it for a second.” 

“Thanks for what you just said.” Steve smiled at you.

“Anyway, what do you think of I Need You?”

“Not really my favourite.”

“Steve Harrington, I am appalled! How dare you say this kind of stuff?” you exclaim, faking shock.

“You asked for my opinion.”

“And you were supposed to agree with me.”

“I don’t like it, it’s not my fault.”

“You just don’t get this song. You’ll see, you’ll be a fan of it one day, I’ll make sure of it.” you stated looking at him right in the eyes.

“I’m dying to see that.”

Your lips were only a few inches away. You didn’t dare to make the first step, even if you were dying to, you were too afraid to have read too much in between the lines. You liked Steve a lot, but you weren’t sure he wanted the same thing. Steve looked at you with stars and tenderness in his eyes, yours were quite similar. You both were waiting to see which one would bend first. Steve was the one who ended up breaking the inches by pressing his lips against yours. Your lips were moving slowly, taking in this innocent moment of the beginning of your relationship.

Now, the innocence is gone. Once you close your locker door, the word “slut” is written in big letters, reminding you of the price you had to pay for this moment. Who knew cuddling on trampolines could be so reckless? 

Far away, Steve is watching you. However, the second you turn your head toward him, he looks down and goes in the opposite direction. It’s been the same thing for a month. You are called names and Steve turns a blind eye. You are accused of being a homewrecker and Steve receives sympathy for the pain you supposedly caused him.

During the day, you keep your head low, not wanting to draw more attention to you. Unfortunately, the insults just like the degrading pieces of paper keep coming your way. The only moment of peace you have is during lunchtime. 

At first, you hid in the bathroom then you ended up running into some girls who made you understand they weren’t on your side so you went to find a safe place in the janitor closet. At least, no one can bother you there. You don’t like the way you accepted the bullying however every time you tried to explain the situation, no one listened to you. So, now, you don’t say anything and you let people tell you who you are, hoping this story will end soon. 

In the afternoon, you have chemistry. As you got used to the past month, you sit at the end of the class, wanting to be far away from your classmates' judging look. You do your best to stay focused on the lesson but you have to admit since the beginning of the rumours, your grades have been falling. You keep your energy to survive the comments so you don’t have enough of it to keep your grades high.

While you finish writing what Mr. Kaminski just said, he announces you’ll work in pairs. Right away, your stomach twists and you want to throw up. You can’t work in pairs. You’ve never been a fan of group projects however now you hate it; it’s an open door to being called names nonstop for a whole hour. The teacher informs he’s already made the groups before saying them out loud. Like a convicted person, you wait for him to say your name. You’re part of the last group and you’re with Tucker Walker. At the mention of his name, you want to die. He’s part of the basketball team and he’s entitled. You don’t like him. You try to negotiate with your teacher to work alone but he insists.

“Come here, Y/L/N, I’m not gonna eat you.” Tucker laughs.

Reluctantly, you gather your stuff and go to his desk. You put as much distance as possible, wanting to avoid new rumours.

“I’m going to do the whole exercise and I’ll put your name on the sheet like this, you’ll have nothing to do.” you announce while starting to read what you have to do.

“Who said I didn’t want to work with you?”

“I don’t want to work with you.” you specify. “Now, do something else and let me work.”

“On the contrary, I’m sure I can be useful.” he contradicts, putting his hand on your knee.

“Take your hand off.” you say through gritting teeth.

“What?”

“Your hand. I don’t like you and if I’m not mistaken, you’re with someone.”

“It didn’t stop you with Harrington.” he says before leaning in. “You can meet me behind school later.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to play hard-to-get because we’re in class.”

“I’m not playing hard-to-get, I just don’t like you.” you repeat, trying to stay calm.

“That's what you say now.”

By some luck, Tucker takes his hand off and lets you work. You’re surprised to see him give up so easily. You know it’s hiding something else, from now on, you have to avoid him.

You finish the work sheet the same second the bell rings at the end of the class. You pack your stuff quickly and give the sheet to your teacher before leaving the room. Tucker doesn’t follow, allowing you to sigh in relief.

Walking by your locker, you discover the insult is gone. It’s one of the positive things with the janitor, he always erases the insults right away. Though, no matter how many times he erases them, he’s never reported it to the principal, leaving you on your own with the high schooler venom.

The moment you leave school, you walk to your car when you get stopped in your tracks. In front of you, there are four girls, Jessica - Tucker’s girlfriend - included. You try to not show anything, mentally preparing yourself for what she’s going to tell you.

“What makes you think you can hit on Tucker, my boyfriend?” she asks drily, “Being his chemistry partner and telling him to meet you behind school? That’s where you were going, weren’t you? He’s not coming. Unlike Steve, he won’t let the slut of Hawkins destroy our relationship.” Jessica affirms, you’re about to answer when she beats you to it. “Don’t even try to deny it, Tucker told me and Sarah heard you!”

“Well, she can’t hear correctly then and your boyfriend is lying. Tucker is the one who hit on me and I stopped him. He put his hand on my knee and told me to meet him behind school.” you retort, annoyed.

“You think I’m gonna believe you over my boyfriend and my best friend?”

“I know you’re not going to believe me. It’s so much easier to believe your boyfriend who tells you what you want to hear rather than the girl who shows you the true colour of your boyfriend. Don’t be too disappointed the day you’ll discover he’s cheated on you, if he hasn’t done it already.” you state with a fake smile.

“Take that back.”

“Why ? Everyone knows he’s a cheater.”

“He’s different with me.” Jessica insists and you shake your head.

“That's what he wants you to believe but the truth is, he’s sleeping around while keeping you under his hat.”

The sound of the slap resonates in the school parking lot. You look at Jessica with eyes wide open whilst you’re touching your cheek. For you, that’s your last straw, you answer to her attack by pulling at her hair. Jessica’s scream alerts the adults around while her friends try to separate you two. You keep giving her a piece of your mind when two arms wrap themselves around your body and gets you away from Jessica. Being separated doesn’t stop both of you from insulting one another and trying to go for the throat again until Mister Jenkins arrives.

“That’s enough! What is going on here?”

“She attacked me!” Jessica lies, pointing at you.

“What? You’re the one who slapped me first.”

“She’s lying, we saw her, sir!” a friend of Jessica adds.

“They’re lying, Jessica did hit her first.”

Looking behind you, you discover the one who is holding you back and who is defending you is none other than Eddie Munson. You didn’t even see he was around and you certainly didn’t expect him to defend you.

“Are you seriously going to believe what Munson is saying?” Jessica questions, faking tears. “He’s always against us! He’d say anything to get us in trouble. I’m the victim here-”

“You’re talking nonsense, you-” you cut her off before Jenkins gets your attention back.

“Enough! I have enough. Go to the principal, now!”

And that’s how you end up in Mister Higgins’ office for the first time. You can’t believe the situation got this bad. The worst part isn’t listening to the disapproving speech of the headmaster, it’s actually witnessing your mom’s disappointment beside you as he speaks.

While the principal is explaining to your mom and Jessica’s mom what happened, you look at your feet, holding back tears of anger. Once he’s done talking, Higgins catches your and Jessica’s attention.

“Do you have anything to add?”

“I didn’t attack her first.” you insist.

“Everybody saw you!” Jessica retorts.

“You’re the one who accused me of stealing your boyfriend. I did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah, just like you didn’t break Nancy and Steve’s relationship.”

“Sir,” you start, trying to keep a calm voice, “I’ve been receiving insults for more than a month now from everyone including Jessica. She called me a slut then she slapped me when I told her her boyfriend was cheating on her. Eddie Munson saw it, he told Mister Jenkins.”

“Munson,  the one leading a cult? What a reliable source!” Jessica’s mother states, rolling her eyes.

“Madam, please.” Mr. Higgins reprimands. “One witness against Jessica’s three friends doesn’t bring a lot to the table.”

“So you’re not even going to do something about the harassment I’ve been receiving?”

“Y/N.” your mom says drily.

“I’ve never heard anything about people being mean to you. However, your grades haven’t been going down for some reason.”

“If you cared a bit more about your student, maybe you’d know why.”

“Y/N, enough!” your mom orders you before turning to Mister Higgins. “I apologise. I guess Y/N will be punished?”

“Indeed, we can’t tolerate this kind of behaviour. Technically, this kind of situation can lead to expulsion though considering Y/N has always been a good student - until now -, we’ll just say she’s going through a bad phase. Y/N will have a month of detention and you will be doing an assignment on bullying.”

Before you can protest, your mom glares at you. You stay silent while your mom apologies once again for your behaviour. Your mom’s grip on your arm forces you to stand up and to leave the office. She doesn’t say anything until you arrive at your car where she orders you to get home right away.

Once you’re home, your mom informs you you’re not allowed to drive your car therefore, you have to take the bus to go to school before informing you to stay in your room until your father arrives.

The second you close the door, you finally let your tears of anger stream down your face. You’re frustrated by the whole situation and you have never felt this alone before. You lay down on your bed rolled up in a ball, searching for some comfort. As you search for that much-needed comfort, your mind takes you back to a time in your life when you had it without needing to make any effort.

At one point, you had this comfort with you. When everything was still going great, it wasn’t rare for Steve to come to your place and put on a smile on your face.

You had been a couple for three months and no one knew about your relationship. You preferred to not say anything, wanting to protect what you had. Thanks to your relationship, you both felt less alone, you finally felt like someone cared about you, that was why you felt so good with him. Therefore, you would see each other when your parents weren’t home. As you didn’t want to stay alone for another night, you had invited Steve to come. Knowing he was in the same situation, Steve had rang at your door thirty minutes later.

Laying on your bed, you were enjoying each other’s presence after your first intimate moment you had just shared. Steve had his arms wrapped around your hips, pressing your back against his torso.

“You know,” Steve started, whispering in your ear, “maybe you’re too late to be my first love, but you’ll always be my favourite. I like what we have.”

“Me too. I like you, Steve, a lot.” you told him, turning around to look at him.

“I like you a lot, too.” he replied, tenderly kissing you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the harsh voice of your father ordering you to come downstairs. You fastly wipe the tears away from your cheeks and prepare yourself for what your parents are about to tell you. While you’re walking down the stairs, your father makes a sign to go to the kitchen. You sit whilst your parents stay on their feet on the other side of the table, a severe expression on their faces.

“Is it true what your mother told me? You’re getting into fights now?” your dad says, angry.

“I was only defending myself, Jessica attacked me first.”

“Why would she attack you? I know her dad, she’s a nice girl.”

“She called me a slut and she accused me of stealing her boyfriend when I didn’t do anything.”

“Why does she say you did then?” your mom questions, annoyed.

“Because she’s against me like everyone else in this school!”

“Lower your tone, young lady.” your father orders.

“It’s about what she said about Steve and Nancy, isn’t it?” your mother wants to know with accusing eyes.

“Yes, they accuse me of breaking their relationship when it’s not the truth.”

“Because you never did anything with Steve, didn’t you?”

“How do-” you start, shocked to discover she knows.

“It’s a small town and you really thought the neighbours wouldn’t see you sneaking in a boy in our own house?”

“You sneaked in a boy?” your father angers.

“And according to Miss Johnson, it went on for several months,” your mom specifies, “aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

At this sentence, the tiny bit of hope you still had about your parents disappears. You can’t believe your own mother is against you. You’re getting used to the reputation people gave you but hearing your own mother implying you’re less than good because of your relationship is the final blow. You can’t understand how liking a boy could destroy everything.

“Steve and I got together after he broke up with Nancy, I almost wasn’t talking to him when he was still dating her. Steve was my boyfriend and we did nothing wrong!” you defend yourself, feeling the tears coming.

“Of course and you did nothing wrong when you attacked this poor Jessica.”

“Poor Jessica? She insulted me and hit me. I did nothing. Why don’t you want to believe me? I’m your own daughter and yet, you’d rather believe Jessica than me.”

“The facts are here!” Your father yells. “Besides, we should have reacted a long time ago, have you seen your grades? Do you really think you’re going to pass your year like this?”

��My grades are getting worse because I’m going through a living hell at school.”

“Stop playing the victim! We have enough of your behaviour. You have to do better and quickly. Go to your room right now! And don’t forget to apologise to Jessica.”

Tired of screaming in the void, you don’t answer your mother’s order and run to your room. Mad, you slam the door behind you. Normally, you’d be scared to hear more reproaches however at this moment, it’s the least of your concerns.

You throw yourself on your bed and you hold back a scream of frustration. You can’t understand why your own parents don’t have your back. They didn’t even try to listen to you, they only blame you some more. You know it’s stupid yet a part of you was hoping they would understand. You were wrong, no one is on your side; you didn’t think it possible, yet, you feel even more alone.

If you thought you already were the public enemy, the second you get back to school the following day, you realise it’s worse. Everyone is staring at you, you’re called even more names just like the whisperings got worse. You’re being even more discreet than usual - if it’s possible - wanting to keep to yourself.

In hindsight, you tell yourself you wouldn’t recommend dating boys with exes, it’s not worth all the pain and all the bullying that comes with it, in particular if the boy in question ignores you.

When you go to your last class of the day, you wish you could say you’re finally about to breathe but you still have detention. You have to stay at school a few more hours.

Sitting at your usual seat in your history class, you put your notebook on your desk. Your eyes land on the last page you wrote until they fall on the inscription carved on the desk: “the slut of Hawkins = Y/N.” It’s not the first time you see those words, it’s actually on this very table you discovered your life was about to change before you could do something about it. Despite the time, those words still feel like a knife in your chest. You distinctly remember the moment where everything fell apart.

You were behind the school building with Steve. You had been together for four months but contrary to the first three, it wasn’t going on so well between you two. You didn’t get along anymore. No matter your effort to hold him close, it was always ending in an argument. The main reason for it was that you were more invested in this relationship than Steve. You had noticed this the moment you had tried to get closer to him at school.

“I’m not asking for a lot, Steve! I’m not asking to make out with you in front of everyone, I just want to, at least, be able to talk with you without you ignoring me. I’m your girlfriend and yet, it looks like you don’t know me.”  you pleaded, mad and desperate.

“You said you wanted to keep our relationship for us.” Steve retorted, avoiding your eyes.

“That was before it became more serious between us. I like you and I want to say you’re my boyfriend.”

“I know but you know that with Nancy-”

“What are you bringing her into this? She moved on, unlike you! She’s with Jonathan, I don’t think she cares if you’re dating again. Why are you searching for an excuse? I thought you liked me, too.”

“It’s true.”

“Really? It doesn’t look like it!” you said, outraged. “I feel like I’m alone in this relationship. Everytime I take a step towards you, you push me away. I’m getting tired of it. I don’t even know why I even try to save our relationship when it’s clear you don’t care.” you finished, going inside the building.

“Y/N, wait-” he tried to hold you back.

“No, we’re done, Steve!”

That day, you ended your relationship with Steve, signing at the same time the end of your peaceful life in high school. While you were arguing, someone had heard you and had twisted the whole story. Before you could react, the rumours had started to fly a few days later at school that you had ruined the relationship with Nancy and Steve by seducing him. There was nothing you could do to correct the rumours. Just because you liked a boy, you got judged as a homewrecked and you had to accept your sentence.

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

[ronearoundblindly]

Whattt I just read the Mr and Mrs Smith thing and I loved it it was so frkn good!! love the movie too . It made me think of Tony and Peppers dynamic so if you'll like an au could we get the girl Friday thing where Stevie is more of an idiot than usual, they are pretty smart as individuals but they both share one brain cell when they're together still she puts out all his fires I think it'll be nice to have someone do that for Steve as opposed to Steve always doing that for ppl.

CEO!Steve x assistant!reader (see series)

This got way longer than I intended, but it took everything in me to minimize this to a one-shot (well that f***ing escalated! It's a three-parter now). 😂 Warnings for zero editing and drinking. Non-powered, modern AU btw. This part is ~2.5k

Eighty-Third Time's the Charm (1 of 3 yeah, yeah, it's 4 + a 5pt follow up now, haha, joke's on me): WORK

Steve’s been the logistic coordinator for Stark Industries since Tony took over for Howard. Howard hired Steve to acquire and transport materials for his early projects, and Steve’s own business grew from there. He now handles most of the further distributors for Stark Tech across the globe, and you’re his secretary.

Assistant.

Right hand.

Ok, well, maybe both of Steve’s hands and his mouth because his brain is already doing ninety things at any given moment. He needs a lot of help, and that takes time. Unreasonably lengthy amounts of time that can (and do frequently) span more than the average working and waking day.

You’re happy to do it. You love the work. It’s a challenge in quantity, not quality, and most of the men (because it is almost entirely men) who you deal with are happy to do as they are told when you smile and make them feel heard.

Really, the only challenge is to smile that much in person and on video calls. You never thought you’d be so excited to handle something by email every now and again.

Trip #83 with Steve Rogers takes you both three days overnight to a big city not far from where you grew up. You even have a few school friends who live in town, and you’ve made very tentative plans to see an old high school flame if the schedule permits, which it just barely seems to as the clock inches past 6:37.

Those 7 o’clock drinks can’t pour themselves fast enough.

In your hotel room, you’ve just shed the professional pant suit for light, breezy dress (something both easy to wear and easy to pack) and are in the process of typing out a confirmation of the restaurant when the call waiting comes up.

Steve.

“Hey, where is the contract for Sauters’?”

“We confirmed it all with them before the flight here, boss. Why—“

“I want the language changed to reflect payment before they take possession. They’re delinquent again. I’m not gonna allow them to keep profiting off of our efficiency while they sit with a thumb up their butts.”

“Sir, it really would be more impactful if you just said asses. I don’t think your mum is going to hunt you down for that.”

“Absolutely not. Ok, room 1512, bring the copy and patch in legal.”

“Wait, boss, I—“

The boop boop boop lets you know you’ve been hung up on, and you’re about to pass the feeling on to cute Jimmy from fourth period senior english. Damn. You rewrite the text and send your apologies.

Steve’s all in a flourish, head run amuck with little things to change here and there in the 26-page agreement. It all takes another three and a half hours. He had room service delivered, has poured you both a splash of something from the mini bar, and finally, finally sits down and looks at you.

“What is that,” he blurts.

It takes a moment to figure out what he means.

“A dress, sir. I…I was…I’d made plans for drinks with a friend.”

“Here?”

“I grew up about an hour away, yeah.”

He swirls his drink around, not admitting—though it’s painfully clear—that he had no idea you weren’t from New York. He looks at his watch for the first time all day.

“Ah, I suppose apologies are in order for…” He waits for his bait to catch.

“Jim,” you slowly add. “Don’t worry. I let him know the instant you called. I’ve met you. I knew how this would go.”

How much of this scotch did you sip all at once? You don’t normally talk to Steve—Mr. Rogers— like that, but he seems good and chastised for a moment, draining his tumblr in one go and returning to the bar.

“Well, I can’t replace Jim—“ he spikes the name with sharp tone you’ve never heard before “—but I can offer you a drink here.” His gaze, once it finds yours after dragging up your legs, is expectant and intent. It’s the first time he’s ever waited for an answer from you that he didn’t already know before asking.

It’s also the first time you aren’t quite sure you understand what Steve is asking. Eighty-three trips in and countless hours with the man, and this is the least prepared you’ve ever felt.

“Already had mine, sir.” You set your empty glass down on the small table between you. “We have a long day tomorrow, or rather, I do, but I’ll be sure to inform you when the Sauters are settled.”

It’s just instinct to smooth the front of your dress when you stand, but the rake of Steve’s eyes forced down you by the move completely throws you.

“I’m sorry you wasted an outfit,” he adds, quietly, too low and deep to not sharply flame a heat that sparks out of nowhere in your gut.

“Right.” You gather up your things. “No great loss. It’ll keep. If that’ll be all, boss?”

When your eyes return across the room, Steve’s standing there with an empty little bottle still tilted over his glass. He’s just staring, lost in thought about god-knows-what.

“Get some sleep,” he mutters absently.

“Of course.”

You pour your own drink from your room’s mini bar and take a long bath. You’ve been up since 5am in order to get you and Mr. Rogers to the airport in time. That’s what you blame your runaway thoughts on. You do everything for that man. You know practically everything about that man. You know that he hasn’t gone on any sort of social date in at least seven months (a fact even his mother calls to remind you of), and you know that Tony takes him out to gentleman’s clubs and has women serve them at all their joint business dealings.

You have literally sat beside Pepper Potts and joked about this while watching Tony get a lap dance and Steve chat up a waitress. Why your mind still entertains those thoughts after all you know is beyond human understanding, and after a day like today, you can hardly categorize yourself as human.

You need the rest for sure.

You’re already back on the phone by breakfast time, consuming strong tea and a croissant bite-by-bite while the American Capsules’ legal discusses the changes with SauterCorp’s legal.

Line-by-fucking-line.

You knew this would happen. It’s why you told them to start early. Of course, the team members you are on the phone with are different ones from last night because those folks worked late and are off work to make up for the overtime. You’re breathing in the smell of your drink with closed eyes like it’ll mainline the caffeine up your sinuses to your brain.

When you open your eyes, Steve’s pulling out the chair in front of you, ordering his own breakfast and motioning for a fresh pot of tea. He says nothing while you work.

Plates of food arrive and Steve reads the paper, glancing up every so often when you write a note to yourself about a follow-up after the call. After a while, he pushes a plate of scrambled eggs towards you and flips over a fork for you to take. He doesn’t take no for an answer, but since the call is finally wrapping up, you oblige and wolf down a few bites before typing out an email of your notes.

Steve asks a few questions of his own while refreshing both cups of tea and not bothering to offer sugar for yours. You…weren’t aware he knew that about you.

Until the car comes in an hour to get you to your next meeting, there’s nothing on the agenda, but you fully expect Steve to cram in a breakdown of the afternoon. Instead, he sips tea and folds the paper round and round until he’s done with all his interesting bits. You get to people watch, pedestrians outside the floor to ceiling windows of the hotel’s café bustling past in both directions.

Your attention is brought back when the table is cleared off, but Steve is no longer focused on the paper or the people. He sits and watches you again.

You smile as politely as you can even though you feel pinned down in the stare. “We better get going,” you advise, packing your things away.

Steve does put down his cup but doesn’t move otherwise.

“It’s your color.” He squints just slightly at his own revelation, relaxing back into his chair. “The dress.”

You have to swallow and clear your throat at that. “Yes, I suppose it’s one of my favorite colors.”

“It suits you.”

There’s no irony. Steve simply looks at you, blinks, looks some more, and it’s like you accidentally sat down naked in the lobby. His blue eyes are just that piercing.

“Thank you,” you say out of habit more than understanding and hurry on with the day.

It pours down rain for most of the afternoon, drenching your shoes as you traipse back and forth to the car with Steve. You have an umbrella, but nothing stops the puddles invading.

“I can’t do this,” you finally snap on the way back to the hotel. You’re on the verge of tears. The sides of your leather heels have rubbed the back of one ankle and the top outside of the other foot raw, almost/possibly bloody. It takes effort to peel them off your skin, and you hiss in pain.

Steve sits across the backseat completely horrified.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’ll put them back on—“

Steve puts a hand out to stop you.

“Driver,” he calls, “is there a first aid kit back here? No, no, we just need a few bandaids.” The reassurance cuts off panic from the front, and after the click of the glove compartment sounds, a small box is offered through the window. Steve thanks him.

“I can do it, sir. Please don—“

That stare pins you again, and there’s dead silence in the back while your boss rips open a few wipes, cleans the blistered skin, dabs antibiotic ointment on the broken parts, and smooths the coverings overtop. You can’t help but notice how tender his touch is, but he’s just being thoughtful. It doesn’t mean anything.

As Steve returns to his seat (after it feels like a struggle to break eye contact), he gets a call.

His friend Bucky Barnes is in town, too, on a quick layover before a transatlantic flight and long business trip. The two don’t get to talk as much as they’d like, and you know they don’t see each other very often either.

“Of course, we’ll do dinner, Buck. Name the place.”

We will do what now?

You start waving your hands and miming towards your feet.

Steve eyes you a second. “No, right, I will meet you there in—driver, how long is it to Chinatown from the hotel? Yeah, so about an hour from now? Excellent.”

You might have interpreted that wrong. He meant ‘we’ as in him and Bucky, no doubt. In case he didn’t though…

“Shall I call and make reservations for you two?”

“He’s handling it. Traveling with a few associates who know the area and the restaurant.”

“It’s a good one. You can dress down there.”

Steve offers a ghost of a smile as he looks down at his layers of clothing, pondering. He glances at your bandaged feet and looks like he’ll say something before shucking off his coat, and then his suit jacket, and then his vest.

Without a word, you hold out your arm to take the unnecessaries back upstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Steve all but whispers.

He’s never questioned using your service. Ever. He tosses the clothes onto the back-facing seats across the car and undoes the first two buttons beneath his tie. The car stops at the entrance just as he pulls the tie loose.

Shoes in one hand, briefcase slung over your shoulder, you sigh loudly and hold out your hand again very close to his face.

Steve drapes the tie across your palm.

“Have a good dinner, sir.”

You collect the rest and walk in barefoot. You don’t look back.

Next Part Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi

Again, full disclosure: I have never seen the movie His Girl Friday. Just going off a synopsis and running away with it, but now that I've PLOTIFIED the whole damn thing, you're getting three cute-ass chapters *and you'll like it* bwahahahahaha

divider by @firefly-graphics

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that���s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

Permanent tag list:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @gubeskneescrew @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose

Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd@wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword

[anastasiaskarsgard]

A/n;So someone asked for smut for the perfect girl that decides she’s gonna have some fun before she dies. I’m A bit rusty. TW: sex, cursing, choking, 18+ NSFW

If you wanna read the first part it’s called perfect problem and is the last thing I wrote on here and posted...

“So where are we going?” Bethany asked as they got into some ridiculously expensive sports car. Adjusting her clothing and hair, she glanced over at Roman to find him just watching her.

Smirking his signature smirk, he turned the car on and raced out of the parking lot like he has stolen the car. “It’s a surprise.” Roman said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Eyes on the road Speed Racer! Ok well at least tell me what we are going to go do.” She whined.

“Nope. No can do princess. You’re just going to have to have a little faith.” He grinned.

“Your reputation doesn’t exactly inspire trust. No offense.” She felt bad as soon as she looked over. He looked almost sad. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m not serious.” She lied.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart...”

“Oh ho ho! Someone bounces back quick.”she jibed as she turned to look out the window. She wasn’t exactly familiar with the area so she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. There was trees, and then some houses, and then businesses so there’s no way to tell if they were going somewhere Residential or commercial.

Grabbing her phone to send out some emails, she wasn’t paying attention when she noticed the car had stopped. Looking up from her phone she made an incredulous face at Roman when she noticed that they were in front of a large mansion.

“Really?” She quipped.

“Hey Before you jump to conclusions, I’m just coming here to get into some more comfortable clothes. I can’t exactly have fun in a suit, now can I?” He got out of the car and walked around it to open her door. “You can look around or grab a drink or whatever you like while I change.”

Stepping out of The car, Bethany followed roman inside his home. “ not even gonna try that old give me a tour excuse?”

Scoffing, he shook his head no, and made a crossing motion over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

“What if that’s exactly what I wanted to do?” She breathed out as she made her best attempt at sexy. Licking her lips, and winking, she nearly cried out when all of a sudden he was only inches away from her. “You’re very fast. I hope that’s not true for everything though.”

Smirking, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Pulling back to look at his face, she bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, as he walked them up to his room. Seeing the insecurity creeping in, He kept an eye open to watch where he was going but smashed his mouth back into hers, in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. Completely losing herself, she was startled when he dropped her on the bed and crawled over her body, pressing himself into her, making his intentions clear.

Sitting up as he straddled her waist, he ripped his shirt off, sending buttons flying, before aggressively attacking her mouth once more. Her nails dug into his bare back and he groaned into her mouth, before kissing down her neck and onto her chest.

Abruptly, he jumped off her and stood over her a moment longer than she assumed it took to take off his pants, so she lifted her head, cocking a brow at him curiously.

“Dress off.” He ordered, his smile fading.

Smiling a Cheshire grin, she shook her head no and looked up at the ceiling. Not letting curiosity get the best of her, she refused to look at him when he huffed impatiently. Even when he had stormed out of the room, and returned a few minutes later, looming over her, she refused to award his bratty behavior.

“Please take your dress off.” He finally bit out.

For a moment She pondered denying him-- and in turn denying herself. But the fact remained, she wanted him, whether contrived or genuine, She did. And She was done not doing what She wanted.

“Stand up.” His voice shocked her out of her head and She found herself standing at the side of the bed. “Good girl.” He purred, his hand brushing her back as he walked behind her and She shivered, as she turned her head to look at him. “Head forward.”

She did so, waiting for him to come back into view and see how far he’d take this little game. When she heard the bed sheets move, she fought the urge to turn around until She felt his fingers on her back, drawing letters or shapes; she wasn’t sure. Roman hummed quietly, lulling her into a peaceful calm, when suddenly he pulled her back into him. He was sitting on the bed, his long legs slightly spread and he spun her around, and placed her straddling over his one naked leg. Somewhere, somehow He’d removed his pants.

Gently he traced up her chest and wrapped one hand in her hair, pulling her forward so he could kiss her neck. Surprisingly, he bit her ... hard. Instead of pain, her senses exploded, causing her to moan wantonly, as she ground her core against his bare thigh.

When his other hand slid down her stomach, She Was almost embarrassed by how wet she had become.

“Stay still…” He said playfully in her ear as he slipped his fingers past the lace covering his goal. Plunging them within her, coating his fingers with her wetness, He gazed into her eyes lustily, as he Brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “So ready for me.”

She nodded dumbly, lost in the sinful way his tongue worked around his fingers. Biting her lip, she must of looked pitiful, because Roman dropped character a moment to chuckle and move a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. Almost lovingly.

Unfortunately she was way too far gone to contemplate what these gestures might mean. She wanted to fuck and she wanted those fingers to go back down there, but this was Roman Godfrey. The man Was unpredictable at best, and uncooperative the rest of the time.

Roman was a predator, and predators like to chase. As much as she wanted to just throw herself at him and demand to fuck her into oblivion, she Still had enough pride to play the game.

“I knew I was right.” He growled, Standing, releasing her hair, so he could wrap his hand around her throat. She grinned, not really caring what he meant. “Now, Im going to fuck you. I’m not going to be gentle, but I’m going to make sure you come so hard that you forget your fucking name.” He smirked cockily, still holding her by the throat. “I can see it in your eyes, that you’re a fucking freak under all that polite perfection. You’ve never fucked up or disappointed anyone ever. You’re loved and respected. Americas sweetheart.... I wonder what they’d all say if they saw you right now, ready to be my little fuck doll, cuz that’s exactly what you are.” Two of his fingers dragged across her cheek, Forcing their way in her mouth. She could taste herself on him and it made her nearly mad with need. She’d never been this turned on in her life. “You have the most perfect lips.” He said as he examined the way they wrapped around his fingers, “I’m going to put so many things in your mouth.”

She sucked briefly, before humming around his digits, lightly biting them. Swiftly, he removed them for a moment, before getting a mischievous look on his face and shoving them in as deep as he could, choking her slightly. Slightly panicked, she reached for his hand, but he just tsked and Tightened his grip on her throat, before ripping his fingers out of her mouth and plunging his tongue in their place.

She really needed to breathe, but eventhough she could feel her limbs growing weak, She didn’t fight him. Completely surrendering to the most arousing experience in her life.

“That’s why I’m going to keep you.” Before She could comment or recover, he removed her dress and threw her down on the bed, standing over her a moment to look her over.

He yanked her underwear down and dove two fingers into her roughly, making her arch her back. His expert fingers were moving faster and faster, getting her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. It’d been a long time since a man made her orgasm, and she was certain, she’d never come close to this intensity. He reached down and pulled her up by the back of her neck, holding her against him like a rag doll, as he brought her closer. , his thumb brushed over her clit and She opened her mouth, trying not to scream. Her limbs started to shake, as her pelvis started thrusting into his hand, flailing about as Her vision began to blur. She closed her eyes tight, ready for the climax.

“Look at me. Look at who is making you feel this way,” he said seductively.

She breathed, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, as He quickened his pace again and added a third finger, making her buck, as she grabbed his rock hard erection, causing him to hiss, and roll on top of her.

“Patience.” He teased, pushing her legs apart. She looked in between his to see his cock standing hard and long against his stomach, a new need screamed within her, demanding him inside her right fucking now.

“What do you want?” He asked innocently, three fingers diving into her again. She closed her eyes from all the sensations, trying to get control, but she was past the point of pride now.

“Please--” She gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?” He pressed down on her clit and She wanted to kill him, but first had to fuck him. His other hand came down and pinched her nipple, twisting it and making her cry out.

“Fuck!” She screamed as he did the same to the other. “Fuck! Fuck me Roman! Fucking fuck me now or I’m going to kill you!”

He didn’t need to be told twice and She felt the large head of his cock against her entrance, before he just forced it inside her with one powerful thrust.

He was big and it took her body a moment to adjust to him, the burn slowly fading as he gave her a moment to breathe and relax herself to accommodate by far the largest cock she’d ever seen, let alone was inside of her.

Somehow it felt divine when he began to move again, and she moaned loudly, his body pressing down into her as he started to move his hips back and forth. She could feel him driving into her with solid, sure strokes as She clenched around him. His lips crashed into hers again as he pushed his hand under her ass and pulled her hips up, sitting back so he could move at a quicker pace. Setting her nerves on fire. Every inch of her body sang in extreme pleasure. His thrusts massaged her inner walls, the tension roaring through her, as he bottomed out and touched a place she’d never felt before, but the intensity made her screech.

She could feel the tell tale signs of an orgasm swelling through her but She held it back, making it feel sweeter and richer with each passing moment. His fingers dug into hips hard enough to break her bones as he closed his eyes, focusing on his own pleasure. His pace turned more erratic and She gripped him around his torso, desperately trying to hang on so they could both orgasm at the same time. Pulling him down and attempting to hide her face in his throat, he stopped and leaned back looking at her beautiful flushed face.

“Ah--ah-- ah--” He held still. “Look at me.”

She did, letting herself melt into his gaze as he started again, harder and faster than before. Noises came from her, she didn’t know She could make and his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing possessively. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her until She was right back to nearly cumming.

“Please--” It took effort to speak through his grip, but She was so close, she didn’t care if she had to beg. “Please, I’m so close--”

“Tell me how badly you want it.” He ordered, his own breath ragged.

“I need it-- please! Please, Roman!” She screamed like a desperate, shameless whore, before she exploded, tightening around him as his grip turned to a vice around her neck and somehow the lack of oxygen intensified the sensory overload to a new height. She drowned in the relentless, all encompassing sensations, that lasted far longer than She thought possible-- causing herself to completely release control for the first time in her life.

As the shocks rocked through her, she felt him stiffen and press into her as deep as possible, spending himself inside her. She couldn’t help but trip out a little about being so full of him. She’d never allowed anyone to finish inside her before.

“You really are good at everything,” he said playfully, as he rubbed his nose along hers, and held her a moment, before pulling out, and flopping down beside her. Brushing his fingers along her tight stomach, and full breasts, he decided she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

His mother was going to fucking hate her...

Perfect.

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. “When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

[j-ungkooky]

Temptation (Taehyung)

Ceo Au! Suggestive smut (he’s crouched under ur desk and :)) (smut will be in future chapters) Angst (later) 3181 Words Chapter 1. 

“Good morning.” Taehyung simply greeted before disappearing into his office. 

It was enough to get all the women in the lobby immediately shooting each other knowing glances because not only was Taehyung the company’s CEO, but he was a very handsome one at that too. His polite demeanour and respectful nature only contributed to his desirability. Due to everyone’s unanimous acknowledgement of Taehyung’s appeal, there seemed to always be some sort of competition for his attention. Whether it was to drop something off for him in his office or offer him leftover donuts, his deep voice thanking you followed by his infectious smile was all worth it. Taehyung being new to the company only made the competition over him more fierce. He had taken over the position from a now old and retired gentleman and because he had no idea what the personality of each individual in the office was truly like, it was all fair game. 

She definitely would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t have some sort of crush on Taehyung but it was all physical and surface level. He was her boss after all and she only saw him for a few minutes each day. They’ve barely exchanged more than a handful of words to each other in the month of his takeover.  

“Jesus...did you see his arms? They’re suffocating in that button up.” Jisoo, her colleague commented. 

“You’re drooling,” she teased, “besides, you should be worrying about your meeting today and not about whether or not blood is circulating through his arms.” 

Jisoo scoffed and pushed herself off of the reception desk. 

“Don’t remind me,” Jisoo groaned, “it doesn’t help that Taehyung’s going to be sitting in for that meeting too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through anything without puking.” 

The two of them continued to talk and catch each other up on what they did over the weekend before Jisoo eventually had to go back to her desk. She watched as her colleague walked away and felt a twinge of jealousy within herself. For someone like Jisoo to get nervous despite being pretty, charismatic and the office favourite was a slap to her self esteem. Jisoo also held a high position within the HR department while she was just a measly receptionist. She definitely wasn’t going to stay in this position forever but the job paid well and would suffice for now. 

As the clock inched closer to everyone’s starting time, the lobby began clearing up as people went to their respected department. After a few minutes, she was left alone to man the front all by herself. She stared at the closed office doors surrounding her and felt another pang of envy in her heart knowing that people behind those doors were doing far more important work than her. Her days consisted of sorting through mail, sending emails, transferring calls and light house duties. She tried to convince herself that it wasn’t all bad because at least she could surf the internet whenever she wanted without anyone monitoring her. Her eyes traveled towards Taehyung’s door and she wondered how he was adjusting to everything before an email notification needed her attention. 

With it being Monday and the meeting Jisoo was talking about earlier being held today, it was quite busy. She usually had an hour of free time before her lunch break but the emails had been nonstop. People kept revising their forms and asking her to print out multiple copies of the revised papers to the point where the printer just stopped working altogether for a scary moment. With it being so busy, she decided to stay at her desk for lunch today. She was buried so deep in her computer work that Taehyung’s presence had gone unnoticed. He needed a break from staring at his screen all day and decided to go explore the office. In the month that Taehyung transferred over, he had no time to go around introducing himself or making himself familiar with the space. His decision to finally become accustomed to his environment brought him in front of her desk. The unusually loud crinkling from the untouched candy jar she left out for everyone broke her focus. She looked up to see her boss struggling with how small the jar was. 

“Do...do you need help?” she finally asked.

Up close, Taehyung’s visuals had her feeling shy and flustered like a high school girl sitting next to their crush. Taehyung seemed just as surprised to hear her voice as his movements came to a halt and he pulled his hand out of the candy jar sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” he apologized while rubbing the back of his neck, “I realized I must’ve looked really stupid.” 

She waved his doubts away and took the jar from him. She tried her very best to seem unfazed and collected but the red tint in her cheeks and her inability to stop smiling so wide probably gave her away.

“The um...” Taehyung cleared his throat before continuing, “the watermelon flavour please.” 

After a few seconds of sifting through the numerous options, she found the one he wanted. Taehyung opened his hand and she almost laughed at how tiny the candy looked in his gigantic palm. Her amusement didn’t stop at his physicality but shifted towards his entire personality. When she first met Taehyung, she was beyond intimidated. She couldn’t look at him for too long without feeling like he was looking right through her. Taehyung carried himself with an air of confidence and always had an answer for everyone, as expected of a competent CEO. She wasn’t nervous around him because he was scary but because his presence was so large and full while she was so small compared to him. But having him stand before her enjoying a piece of watermelon flavoured candy with an innocent smile on his face was just so...unexpected. 

“Is this your lunch break?” Taehyung asked noticing her untouched sandwich sitting beside her keyboard. 

She looked where he was and let out a forced laugh at her pathetic set up.

“Yeah I didn’t have time to properly take a break today.” she explained. 

The reason she was eating at her desk suddenly occurred to her and her eyes traveled over to her inbox which was now at double digits. With only an hour before the big meeting today, she was already behind despite only talking to Taehyung for five minutes. 

“Sorry Taehyung I have to get back to work,” she sighed running a hand through her hair, “is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked looking at him for a quick second before going back to her monitor. 

Taehyung watched as she worked and wondered if this was the kind of work culture he wanted to uphold. He didn’t like that she didn’t take a break and was going unnoticed for her extra work. Perhaps he’d talk to HR and accounting later to avoid situations like this from happening again. Taehyung drummed his fingers against his her desk and sucked his teeth. 

“Nope, nothing else you can do for me!” he smiled, “Thank you for your hard work but please make sure to take a proper break next time. I’m going to the coffee room to take a breather myself.” 

She looked up to thank him out of courtesy and he surprised her by thanking her once more and using her name. He grabbed a few more pieces of candy before going on his way. 

“Hey Taehyung!” she called, leaning over her desk. 

He turned his head with a raised brow. 

“If you’re still going to the break room, it’s the other way.” she informed him. 

Taehyung turned around on his heel and began walking hastily in the correct direction with bashful smile on his face. 

“What an interesting guy.” she thought while laughing to herself. 

________________________________________________

The hour leading up to the big meeting didn’t get any easier as her inbox continued to flood with people requesting numerous things from her. She was finally able to breathe when the meeting started and people stopped demanding her assistance. Jisoo had come up earlier asking for words of encouragement before Taehyung emerged from his office. She watched in awe at how effortless Jisoo made it look cracking jokes with Taehyung and drawing out deep belly laughs from him. She cringed at how awkward she must’ve been with Taehyung earlier and refused to look at him when he walked by; not that he would’ve noticed anyway as Jisoo had his full attention. She made an early new years resolution to be more like her follow coworker in the coming year. 

Despite the craziness earlier, she was already bored browsing through the same pages for the past 40 minutes. The meeting seemed to be going well as no one left the boardroom to ask her to do anything. With her sanity hanging onto Pinterest boards, she welcomed the delivery man with a gigantic smile and lively greeting. 

“Big one today.” the delivery man commented while slapping the stacks of boxes on his trolley. 

She took a look around her desk to see if there was any available space to put the packages but to no avail. 

“You can just leave them there.” she said and began rolling up her sleeves. 

“You sure?” the man asked, “these are quite heavy.” 

She reassured him by telling him that she deals with deliveries every Monday and that this was no different to prior ones. She bid the delivery man farewell as he disappeared through the elevator doors with the same concerned face that never left during their entire interaction. 

"Finally something to do.” she thought and with that, began working on the boxes. 

Taehyung struggled to keep his eyes open during the meeting. He opted to rest his chin on his hand and pretend to take notes when in reality, his eyes were closed and he was drawing random shapes in his notepad. From the moment he received emails outlining what the meeting entailed, he knew it meant absolutely nothing to him. He didn’t actually know why he agreed to be a part of it but he was definitely regretting his decision to do so. Taehyung had a long list of tasks to fulfill especially since he was only a month onboard this company and this meeting was wasting his time. Wanting to make a good impression on his employees, Taehyung tried really hard to pay attention but he simply could not trick himself into caring as the minutes ticked by. He racked his brain on ways to escape and took a deep breath before pursuing his liberation. Taehyung looked at his apple watch and feigned surprise at a non-existent message on it. 

“Everyone, I apologize for leaving so suddenly but there is an issue I have to attend.” he announced while getting up from his seat. 

He uttered a few more apologies before leaving the boardroom and closing the door. It wasn’t until he was out in the hallway by himself that he suddenly felt incredibly foolish over how easy it was to leave. He sat in that godforsaken room for almost an hour thinking of ways to flee and that was all it took. Pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling a sharp breath, Taehyung made his way back to his office. 

“Holy shit! What is in here?!” she groaned struggling to lift more boxes from within the delivery boxes.  

In the span of an hour, she was still working on one of the four boxes delivered. Perhaps she should’ve listened to the delivery man earlier but her pride got in the way. It didn’t help that the skirt she was wearing today was a lot shorter than her usual choices but all her work clothes were currently in the wash as she simply could not be bothered to do laundry over the weekend. Every time she lifted something up, she had to immediately place the item somewhere so she could pull her skirt down or she’d accidentally flash the office. 

She attempted to set one box down on her desk and winced when it slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. She waited a few seconds to see if anyone came out to figure out what the noise was and breathed a sigh of relief when the office remained undisturbed.

“Better than aimlessly scrolling through Instagram.” she thought before bending over to pick up anything that fell out. 

“Do you need help?” a familiar voice called out. 

She jumped in her shoes and proceeded to drop everything from her arms. She snapped her body up to see who it was and surprising her again for the second time today, Taehyung was standing in front of her desk with a curious look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that,” he apologized profusely as he made his way behind her desk, “please let me help you!” 

It took her a beat to register her appearance and she quickly pulled down her skirt that was riding up way too close to her crotch. She smoothed her hair before attempting to stop Taehyung from doing anything. 

“No, no don’t worry!” she laughed as he held up the items out of her reach. 

“If you want it then you have to grow a whole foot taller.” he teased. 

“You have a meeting to go back to.” she reminded him to which he scrunched his face in disapproval. 

Just as she was slowly convincing Taehyung to go back, his face turned from playfulness to dread when the boardroom door opened. 

“Let me ask Taehyung to join the meeting again.” a colleague’s voice could be heard before their footsteps approached the lobby.  

She was about to tell Taehyung that he was needed when he ducked under her already cramped desk and put a finger to his lips as his eyes pleaded for her to keep quiet. Before she could process what was happening, Jin, her coworker appeared. 

“Hey! Is Taehyung around?” Jin asked as he marvelled at all the boxes spread out in the lobby. 

She stood still trying to calm her nerves. On one hand, she was fighting against the biggest laughing fit of her life and on the other, Taehyung her boss, expected her to cover for him as he cowered under her desk. 

“He is...” she glanced down at Taehyung who was now shaking his head and making a cutting motion with his hand, “I-I haven’t seen him actually! Is he not in the meeting?” 

Jin cocked a brow and leaned over her desk trying to see what she was looking at. 

“Is everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.” he laughed. 

She forced a smile and shook her head, “Oh yeah I’m fine! My computer’s been acting up all day and it’s getting a little worrisome with everything going on.” 

Taehyung was impressed by how quick she was on her feet and slowly breathed a sigh of relief until he heard Jin offer to come around and take a look at her computer for her. This whole situation was already absolutely ridiculous and humiliating until she sat down on her chair to click a few keys and feign relief that her computer was magically working again. The issue was no longer the fact that Taehyung was hiding from his employees but that he was contorted under her desk that was way too small for his large frame, now with her cunt inches away from his face. 

“Well now that you’re here anyways, I was hoping you could help me with some paper work and scheduling.” Jin said. 

“S-sure.” she managed to answer despite her throat drying up and the adrenaline slowly making its way through her veins. 

She could feel every time Taehyung breathed because his exhales would land right against her inner thigh and when he sighed, she could feel it right against her sex. Her thong provided little to no protection against any sensation caused by him. She tried to clamp her thighs together but her knees would hit Taehyung’s face in the process causing her to open her legs again as a reflex and there was no more room for Taehyung to back up against.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked. 

She could only nod as a response; she did not trust her voice to come out stable and natural. The battle she was fighting up there was mutually shared by Taehyung underneath. His brain was going a million miles a minute as he tried to figure out how to talk to her after this. How was he going to make this all alright and normal? He could offer her a raise and an extra week of paid vacation? Maybe he could fire her but he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he did that. Taehyung was beating himself up for putting her in a situation like this and began to mentally prep for a lawsuit. While trying to figure out a solution, Taehyung forgot that he was just a man with a simple brain and another mental battle was underway as he tried very hard to avoid gazing somewhere he really shouldn’t. As she kept squirming, her skirt kept rising and Taehyung couldn’t help but steal a glance at the growing wetness appearing on her undergarment. The growing arousal within Taehyung’s pants made him feel more cramped and with his legs were beginning to fall asleep, he began to pray to any god out there for some sort of divine intervention. 

“Fuck fuck fuck...oh my fucking god,” he chanted in his head, “Jin shut the fuck up already.”

A gasp escaping from her lips followed by her suddenly jolting startled Jin and he gave her an odd look. Taehyung had completely lost feeling in both of his feet and he fell over grabbing onto her thighs for support. His hands felt so warm against her skin and their sheer size grabbed a lot more area than anticipated. Taehyung fought back a groan when the bottom of her skirt had flipped over and her entire lower region was in full view. 

“Hey Jin, is it okay if we do this over email? I’m suddenly not feeling so well.” she was able to muster out. 

It didn’t take a doctor to know something was wrong from her complexion turning completely pale. 

“Yeah I think you should go home for the rest of the day. You really don’t look well,” Jin acknowledged with furrowed brows, “I’ll just catch Taehyung up with the meeting myself.” 

The minute she heard the boardroom doors close, she pushed her chair back so forcefully that it crashed into the wall behind her. She got up and immediately pulled her skirt down and made a beeline towards the washroom without saying a single word to Taehyung. Taehyung on the other hand stayed fixed under her desk with his eyes bulged and his mouth ajar. There was absolutely no positive outcome for what he had caused. 

[ohnopoe]

Personal Hero | Marcus Moreno

Ship: Marcus Moreno x Reader Summary: When work is getting you down, you don’t need Marcus Moreno, the superhero, you need Marcus Moreno, your personal hero. Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Some self deprecating thoughts (not many, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry) & food mentions Author’s Note: This is incredibly late, but for @meshlamando​​! I’m so sorry it took so damn long, I hope it has at least a little comfort in there for you! One day I'll learn the right compromise between hurt & comfort... I don't think I got there today...

The shrill ringing of your mobile cut through your office, sending thoughts flying in every which way at the sudden sound. Irritation bubbled away steadily as you put the damn thing on silent without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

Reports had been thrown in your direction from the moment you had arrived, a never ending list of time restraints and deadlines that seemed to be constantly encroaching on your mental stability, and, quite simply, you didn’t have the time for anything else that could be added to your to do list.

So, the call was quickly pushed from your mind in favour of, was that an accounting report? How had that become your responsibility?

Any thoughts of having your lunch break were dismissed, a luxury you just didn’t have time for as the pile seemed to grow before your very eyes. A fresh cup of coffee, that was all you had time for, and even that gained judgemental glances from your boss as you rushed back from the small kitchenette. But it was a break, of sorts. A few minutes to remind yourself that there actually was something outside of black ink on white paper and luminescent screens that were determined to give you a migraine.

But, as you made your way back to your chair, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, demanding your attention once more. A quick glance, you could get away with that, surely.

A soft smile seemed to find its home on your lips in an instant as the name Marcus Moreno popped up with a ridiculous picture you’d taken of him some months earlier. But, as your gaze quickly met the disapproving  glare of your boss, you knew you couldn’t answer, even if it technically was still your lunch break.

Placing the phone down with a sigh, and more than a smidgen of guilt, you watched as it rang out, fading into a notification. Two missed calls, both from Marcus.

Well, if you hadn’t felt bad moments ago, you certainly did now.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your failings when yet another manilla folder found its way into your inbox; the sticky note on top demanding it be finished before start of day tomorrow.

The hum of vibrations drew your attention from the email you had been writing, dragging over the surprisingly empty office to where your mobile danced across the corner of your desk, each vibration bringing it ever closer to the edge. A quick glance around to confirm you really were alone, another to check the time, realising just why you were so alone, and you were reaching for the device eagerly.

It didn’t matter that you still had hours of work ahead of you, or that your coworkers were all too happy to go home on time and leave you to deal with their messes alone. It didn’t matter that your stomach had been grumbling for hours now, or that your eyes felt so dry that the tears that threatened to break through at the thought of your situation would actually be a welcome relief. It only mattered that, for some miraculous reason, he was calling again, and this time you could finally answer, finally hear his voice and get a few minutes of reprieve from the insanity of your day.

“Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier, works been crazy,” the words came out in a mess, one falling into another as your exhaustion made itself known quite clearly.

“As long as you’re ok,” it would have been impossible to miss the concern in Marcus’ tone, even through your receiver and weary state of being. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, his words a gentle reminder of just how lucky you were, at least, when it came to your personal life.

“I’ll be just fine,” you offered with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a yawn.

“You should come home,” Marcus offered with a soft chuckle, his voice warm and enticing, relaxing you far more than it ought to do.

A chuckle of your own escaped at the suggestion, shaking your head to yourself in the emptiness of your office. “Not likely to happen any time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve got at least a few more hours of stuff left to do.”

“As your boss, I’m telling you, come home, it’s after six, you need rest. I’ll order pizza, Missy’s at a friends, we can have a lazy evening on the couch…”

Damn that sounded enticing, but as you spun around in your chair, the sight of your to do list practically mocked you, silently reminding you of the deadlines you had been given.

It didn’t matter that Marcus was now the head of the whole damn Heroics organisation, your department head would never let you get away with leaving things unfinished, and she’d already made it quite clear what she thought of your relationship with the boss.

A heavy sigh, filled with exhaustion and wariness was the only answer you could give. You didn’t want to disappoint him, of course not. This was Marcus Moreno, for goodness sake, the man deserved nothing but the best, but there wasn’t much you could do. This was your job, and, as much as you loved him, as much as you wanted to be all the things he deserved, you simply couldn’t be that all the time.

“I’m sorry,” there was a weight to your words that went beyond simply coming home late.

It seemed, no matter what you did, you were disappointing someone of late. You weren’t working hard enough, you weren’t home enough, you hadn’t brought coffees for the entire department (when had that even become a thing?). No matter where you looked, it felt as though you were competing with something, something you couldn’t see, something you never had a chance of surpassing. People’s expectations.

There was a pause on the line, a silence that only solidified your guilt. Marcus was too nice to call you out on your absence of late, too sweet to remind you that you hadn’t had a date night in weeks now, but his silence reminded you all on its own.

It weighed heavily on you, as if it had been sitting in the shadows, slowly growing in the dark recesses of your mind without your knowledge, growing until it became the insurmountable mass that sat on your shoulders now.

Late nights, no time to relax, no time to recover, it all came together, wearing at you in a silent tundra of exhaustion.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” It was said softly, but there was a determination behind his words, a tone you heard so rarely, but one that you knew nonetheless. It was the same voice he’d use to reprimand a heroic who went too far or didn’t listen, the same tone he used when Missy had been caught sneaking out one night to go explore an abandoned skatepark with friends. There was no debating this, no need for a discussion. This was simply a fact, one Marcus was determined you would accept.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Just because Marcus believed something wholeheartedly, it didn’t make it so for you. He believed in the best of people, always tried to see the positive in things, and was, quite simply, one of the best people you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So, when he said something with such conviction, it was hard to disagree, hard to say no to, no matter how you felt.

A half hearted ‘hmm’ was all you could offer in response, neither agreeing nor fighting him on the matter, and resulting in an inaudible sigh from the other side of the line.

The silence that sat between you lingered on, acting like a vast gap that seemed to stretch on and on, only further dragging you into that endless aching. It hurt to be apart, to deny what you both wanted for what had to be done, but it hurt to disappoint him even more.

There was a reluctance in his tone as he spoke up once more, softly, uncertainly. “I should let you get back to it then,” the words came across forlorn, as if the certainty he had felt when dispelling your apology had faded into something sadder, something deeper, and it twinged at your heart.

You nodded in silent response, your tired mind only reminding you he couldn’t see you moments too late. “Yeah, I should try and get back to this,” you agreed, even if it sounded anything but enthusiastic. “I’ll see you when I get home,” you began, glancing over at just how ridiculous the pile still was… god only knew when you might actually get out of there. “Don’t wait up.”

Time was inching onwards, drawn out and slow moving, almost taunting you. You wanted to be getting through your work, wanted to at least feel productive, but no matter how long you pushed your way forwards, it felt like no headway was really being made. An hour had passed since you had spoken to Marcus, but it felt so much longer, especially with only one file being completed since then.

Worst of all, you truly were focused. It wasn’t as if your mind had been distracted, even if it had tried very hard to fill your thoughts with reminders of failures at every turn. You were working, and working hard, your attention only given to the work at hand, and it still didn’t seem to be enough.

You were so focused, in fact, that you didn’t even hear the doors opening, or the sounds of footsteps coming ever closer. You didn’t hear the half amused, half exasperated huff of laughter that came from the man who was making his way towards you, you didn’t even notice when his shadow danced over the paperwork before you, pulling figures away from the light as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his features.

No, it wasn’t until a large box landed on your notes, causing you to jump with a yelp, that you even noticed you were no longer alone.

Laughter came easier now, richer, softer, and actually noticed by you as you spun around in shock to take in the sight of one Marcus Moreno, long since changed into his casual attire, standing beside your desk, watching you with that fond smile you’d often catch from across the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as you attempted to calm your racing heart. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, no, but somehow it seemed easier, lighter even.

“I just got here,” he spoke with that same gentleness he always seemed to have when it was just you two.

Guilt played at the edges of your thoughts, trying to tempt you forwards into those haunting thoughts and regrets, reminders that he had to come back to work to see you, to spend time with you, when you’d only just moved in with him about a month beforehand. It shouldn’t have been this hard, you shouldn’t have been forced to be so distant, he deserved better.

But as much as the guilt and anguish tried to take over your mind, it had no real chance, not when that dimple was showing, not when you could breathe in his smell. No, Marcus Moreno was like a warden, keeping the negative thoughts at bay, as if they couldn’t bare to even try to cross him, as if they simply didn’t belong in the same room as him.

He was a hero, everyone knew that, hell, he was the leader of the heroics, but it was this, his very own superpower, far more special than his control over metal, that made him a hero to you. He held a power unlike any other, the power to let you breathe.

Even with exhaustion playing at your mind, even with the insurmountable piles of work still ahead of you, he could calm you with just his presence, and you would never cease to be in awe of that.

“Break time?” he raised his brows in question, pointing towards the box which had both given you such a startle, and been entirely ignored since his arrival.

You hadn’t even bothered to really look at it, so used to things being thrown on your desk throughout the day that seeing whatever offending item could have been added to your pile hadn’t even been a consideration. But now, with the embarrassment beginning to ease, and the delicious smells wafting in your direction, you could finally acknowledge the large pizza box that demanded your attention away from your papers.

“Marcus I-”

“No, you’re taking a break,” he shook his head as he interrupted what was no doubt about to be a slew of sad excuses for why you didn’t have time for this. “You’ve been working your butt off all day, it’s dinner time for goodness sake. We’re going to sit down, have some pizza, talk about something that’s not work related, and then, if you really want to finish whatever you have to do, well, we’ll do that together.”

There it was again, that tone that left no room for argument.

You didn’t want to bring this into your personal life, you wanted to shelter him from the crap your work often brought about, but how could you when he was right there, offering to help you through it?

“This is hardly the kind of work the leader of the Heroics should be bothering with,” you tried to laugh it off, gesturing to the reports and receipts that were littering your table with a wonky smile, but even that faded away as those deep eyes stole your attention as they often did.

It wasn’t sympathy or empathy, wasn’t anger nor irritation, in fact, none of the emotions you expected to see swam in that chocolate gaze. No, it was simply acceptance.

Pulling a chair from the next desk over, he plopped down with none of the finesse your colleagues were used to seeing in the news reports. No, this was a side reserved for you and Missy alone. The side that was clumsy and awkward. The side that had brought you flowers he saw on the side of the road when coming to pick you up for a date, not knowing it was actually a weed. The side that had managed to fall off the couch, not once, but twice during movie night early into your relationship.

This wasn’t Marcus Moreno, leader of the heroics. This was Marcus Moreno, your boyfriend, a term you had grown to increasingly love even with the juvenility of it.

This was your personal hero, the man who turned up at your desk when you had to work late to make sure you ate, took a break, and weren’t overworking yourself.

“Babe, I don’t know what you think I do every day, but I’m more than used to dealing with boring reports,” and somehow his words came far easier than yours, pulling the corners of your lips into something akin to an actual smile.

It was far too easy to smile around him, and he took far too much joy in dragging a smile onto your features as often as possible.

“But, that’s an after dinner problem. As is the fact your boss isn’t the one staying back late to deal with her own issues,” he huffed slightly, before shaking his head as if the action would literally shake the thoughts from his mind. “For now, we eat like- Do you think kings would eat pizza?”

And just like that, being stuck at work for the evening didn’t feel quite so bad. Nothing really could, not when you had that ridiculous man staring at you curiously as he shoved far too much pizza into his mouth at once, pondering a question that would make a toddler proud.

No. This wasn’t bad at all.

[buckys-black-dress]

a fine line, part two

a/n: here she is, our promised part two of afl!!! honestly i love writing this series and it has almost all my fav things in one fic, so yup. anyways, again, thank you for reading/sharing/liking my work !! luv u all, x -ali

wc: 5.8k !!!

-

The tension in the room was palpable.

And although no one knew you two were working together by verbal confirmation, it was clear from the way you were both reacting.

Bucky was rarely this quiet, so it was obvious what was going on.

Also the fact that you seemed frozen in place.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Wanda’s soft voice filtered in next to you.

You nodded, trying to break away from James’ gaze.

“Mhm, who’re you working with?” You ask, moving away from the topic at hand.

“Oh, you know Professor Vision? He teaches Comp Sci.” Wanda is now visibly blushing, making you curious.

“Ooh, does Wanda have a crush?” Natasha chimes in as she sidles up next to you two. “I got Banner. How about you, Y/N?”

“I uhh, I got... Barnes.” You mumble under your breath.

“Who? I didn’t catch what you said there.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I got Dr. Barnes.” You said, not even daring to look up at your friends.

“...Oh. Well, that should be... interesting...” Wanda comments.

“...Yeah. It’ll probably be fine!” Natasha tries to comfort you, but there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach that almost makes you feel sick.

“He said there was no way to change it... right?” You ask feebly, trying to hold out hope.

“No... and I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Fury.” Wanda frowns.

“Great.” You conclude, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I can do this. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You tell the girls, gathering your things and filing out of the office as people began to leave.

Wanda and Natasha were left watching your retreating form, staring at each other.

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the end of next week.” Natasha says, earning a shove in her arm from Wanda.

Bucky watched you leave the office, and the gears were most definitely turning in his head.

-

You spent the rest of the week keeping mostly to yourself, trying to mentally prepare for what you’d have to face next week.

In the email sent out by Fury, he explained that you and your partner should have a lesson outlined prior to Monday so you could get right into teaching. He also explained that you would have to share all of your classes, and somehow correlate the two subjects that each professor taught.

English and History, seems easy, right?

Wrong.

Every idea you’ve emailed James has been shot down, and your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t like being unprepared, and the week would be coming to a close soon.

So naturally, you did what anyone else would do, and knocked on James’ office door until he answered.

“I’m comin’ jeez, would ya hold on?” You hear his voice, muffled by the door, until he swings it open, coming face to face with you. “What do you need, Y/L/N?”

“Oh, lovely to see you too, Dr. Barnes. I just wanted to know if you were actually interested in making our lesson plan. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks together, we might as well have a plan. And I thought your input might be better, since you’re clearly not a fan of what I’ve shown you so far.” You rambled, moving to stand in the middle of his office, laptop in hand.

“You know, maybe if you sent anything good, I would’ve worked with ya on it. But I just don’t think your style of teaching fits me. It’s too... too intimate. You’re too far up your students’ asses. You get too close, too personal with them.” James explains to you.

You can only scoff at this.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, James, but my students and I have great relationships. If my students don’t like me, or what I teach, they’ll be more inclined to hand in subpar work. But if I make my expectations clear from the start, they’ll know what they have to do to earn an A in my class. That’s why my first two semesters here have been averaging with A’s all across the board.” You explain as simply as you can, because you felt like James was ridiculing you and the way you teach. You worked hard to get where you are today, and you know that’s why your students love coming to class.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds, trying to process the information you dropped on him.

“So... your students... like you?” He asks, tentatively, almost.

“...Yes? I know you don’t like me, so it might hard to believe that others do, but I don’t think I’m that unappealing.” You scoff, looking at the floor to avoid Bucky’s eyes. “Anyways, do you have any ideas?”

Bucky’s chest tightened with guilt. After the incident at the bar, he was trying to not be as rude to you. He was trying to be more humane, in Steve’s words.

“I... Maybe we can take a look at some of the stuff you sent before. Maybe if you explain it to me face-to-face I’ll understand it better.” Bucky says, and you nod. “Take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”

As a few hours passed, you and James actually started a pretty solid outline for lessons. You started working on your first lesson, which would be the origins of literature. You could both talk about it, and you could both bring different aspects to the table.

“On average, how many kids do you have in your classes, Y/N?” James asks you, and your head snaps up at the mention of your first name. You had a moment where you imagine him calling you that way more often, making your throat run dry.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “my biggest class is about thirty students, maximum.” You tell him.

“Really? My smallest is forty...” He tells you, scratching his chin. “Also very male dominated, I’ve noticed.”

You freeze, trying to process this. It’s only ten more kids... you’ll be fine, right?

“You alright, there, Y/L/N?” James chuckles, to which you let out a weak one. You weren’t used to large crowds, they made you anxious, nervous, like you were losing your footing.

“I-I’m fine. Yeah, all good, let’s get back to work.” You tell him, focusing back on your lesson plan.

“It’s uh, getting a bit late. Thinking we should head home soon.” James looks at you a bit longer, trying to gauge your mood.

“Uh- oh, what time is it?” You ask, squinting and cursing yourself for leaving your glasses in your office.

“It’s almost 7:30...” He tells you.

“Oh, I have to go! Lucy, she’s been all alone, I have to feed her!” In a panic, you begin gathering your belongings.

“Lu- Who’s Lucy?” James asks in clear confusion at your sudden panic.

“My cat! Oh, poor baby, she’s probably wondering where I’ve been...” You trail off, making sure you’ve gathered everything you need.

“W-wait, can I get your number?” James asks, and you both freeze.

“M-my number?” You ask, not bothering to hide your shock.

“Well, we’re gonna need to discuss the lesson plan somehow...” He tells you.

“Oh... well, here...” You pull off a post-it note from the pad on his desk and quickly scribble down your number, handing it to him. “I’m not usually on my phone too much, so if I don’t answer within a few hours, try shooting me an email.” You explain, making your way out the door.

“Have a good night, James.” He hears you say quietly before you turn away from the doorframe, and he hears the resonating shutting of your office door not even five minutes later.

Bucky sits in his chair, not having moved an inch from when you left. He stares at the blue post-it with your number scribbled on it.

He picked it up, inspecting it further.

Your handwriting was neat, but flourishing and borderline cursive because of how quickly you wrote.

Bucky pulls out his phone and inputs the number, saving your contact.

Y/N Y/L/N

He then types out a message:

Just wanted to text you so I wouldn’t lose your number. Hope Lucy is okay.

And he hits send, deciding to pack up his things, trying to understand why he chose to include your cat in his message.

And on your end when you check your phone after parking in your apartment building’s parking, you see a message from an unknown number. You choose to not answer until you’ve made it into your apartment and feed Lucy.

You open your messages, staring at it. Something in your chest fluttered, but you pass it off as your hunger, waiting for your dinner to warm up in the oven.

Hi James. Lucy is fine, thanks for worrying. Have a good night.

You send it off, saving his contact but choosing to not look at your phone until after you’ve finished everything that you needed to do.

After finishing some grading, doing the dishes, and adding to the lesson plan, you decide to settle into bed with a book. You check your phone while brushing your teeth.

James Barnes: Good to hear. Do you think we could work on the lesson plan over lunch tomorrow? Just so we can get ahead of the game.

Y/N Y/L/N: Sounds good. Are we still going to also meet up after classes?

It takes a few minutes before your phone dings again.

James Barnes: Yep. Do you want to just come by my place after? Kind of getting stir-crazy in my office. We could also order food.

You stare at your phone. Are you going crazy? Why is he being so... kind?

Before you could even respond, another ping pulls you back out of your thoughts.

James Barnes: You could also bring Lucy with you, if you don’t want to leave her alone at home for too long.

Okay, now you were sure you were going insane. He was being way too nice. Where was this attitude a year ago, when you’d first met him?

But then again, it wouldn’t hurt, right? You were trying to get out of your comfort zone...

Y/N Y/L/N: Sure, that’s good. Are you sure it would be okay if I brought Lucy? I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal space.

His reply was almost instant.

James Barnes: No, I don’t mind at all. Alpine would love the company.

Before you could even wonder who Alpine was, you remember your previous conversation with Steve once.

‘Bucky also has a cat...’

Y/N Y/L/N: Okay, then I’ll be there. You also have a cat?

James Barnes: Oh, yeah. He’s the sweetest. *1 Attachment.*

Opening the image, you see a fluffy, stark white cat. He had big eyes that anyone would swoon over. You look at the foot of your bed where Lucy is curled up into a ball, fast asleep. You carefully snap a picture, smiling at her.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll admit, he’s cute. But can he compete with her? *1 Attachment*

You smile, seeing the typing bubble, waiting for him to respond.

James Barnes: Doll, no one can compete with Al. But I can’t deny, Lucy’s a gem.

Reading over the message at least seven times, your eyes keep lingering over the first word. Doll. It was in a loop in your head, the only thought you were having was that one word.

Why did he call me that? Is he flirting with me? No... he doesn’t even like me! But then why would he be talking to me right now? And why would he send me a picture of his cat...

And now your hands were working faster than your brain, typing out a quick response with your stomach doing backflips.

Y/N Y/L/N: Alright, whatever you say, Bucky. I’m heading to bed, good night.

And you don’t wait for a response before shutting off your phone and plugging it in, putting it on do not disturb and abandoning it on your nightstand, flipping open your book. You were trying to clear your thoughts but miserably failing.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky responded with a wide smile at the sight of you using his nickname.

James Barnes: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

That night, Bucky fell asleep with Alpine on the pillow next to him, but a wide smile on his face and his stomach full of butterflies.

Little did he know, so were you.

-

The next day, you woke up feeling like a brand new woman. You got a decent amount of sleep. You got out of bed and made coffee before you left the house. You arrived to school way earlier than usual.

To be honest, you didn’t know what was going on.

James was being nice. To you. Why the sudden change of heart? Or maybe he was going back to acting like an asshole when he sees you in person. You didn’t really know what to expect.

Honestly, what you expected the least was for a knock to be heard on your door, 15 minutes before your first class of the day.

“Come in!” You say, expecting a student or maybe Natasha or Wanda.

But the door swings open, and there’s James. He’s standing there with two paper bags, undoubtedly from the bakery down the street.

“Hi.” He says. Not offering anything. No explanation, no emotion. No indication of our conversation last night.

“Hi. Did you need something?” You ask, and for once, it wasn’t in a dismissive or cold tone.

“Uh, no. Just wondering if you’ve eaten anything yet today?” James asks, holding up the bags in his hand.

“Uhm... no...” You tell him, not understanding why he was asking.

“Oh, well I have an extra croissant, if you’d like.” He holds up the bags once again.

“Sure, you can sit in here to eat if you’d like...” You offer, not sure of the water you were treading in.

“Oh, thanks.” He sits down and you both pull out the pastries and start eating. “So, how’s Lucy today?” James asks, a slight smirk on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“Uh, she-she’s good. Clingy as usual. How’s Alpine?” You return the question.

“Same for him, also clings to me like a koala when I leave, I always feel bad, but I don’t really have a choice.” You both giggle at the remark, nodding in agreement.

“I understand. Lucy’s still a kitten too, so she’s been getting attached a lot. But I think I need her just as bad as she needs me.” You tell him, and you don’t know why.

“Oh... no boyfriend?” James asks, and now you really can’t tell if he’s pulling your leg.

“Oh-” You giggle, covering your mouth. “That’s funny. No, no boyfriend.” You continue to laugh until you fall back into silence, and James is just watching you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely perplexed at your reaction.

“James, I don’t think either of us are idiots. I don’t think I come off as girlfriend material to most guys.” You laugh again.

It became quiet, and you look back to your computer, ready to end this awkward conversation. You knew you had your insecurities, but it had always been hard for you to put yourself out there. Especially for guys. Your anxiety and introverted nature really put a pause on your already non-existent dating life.

Besides, you’ve always been alone. And you didn’t think that would be changing any time soon.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out. I have a class to prepare for. See you tonight?” James asks, getting up from his seat across from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you then. Could you text me your address and what time I should be there?” You ask, also gathering your lecture notes and laptop.

“Sure thing, Y/N. Bye.” He waves, leaving. As soon as he steps out, you hear the clicking of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Why was Bucky in here?” Natasha’s gravelly voice asks, looking confused as ever.

“He just brought me a croissant, we were talking about our lesson plan for next week.” You explain to her. “Walk with me to my lecture?” You ask, pointing out the door.

“Sure,” she agrees, waiting for you to lock the door, “so, have things been... civil between you two?” Natasha asks tentatively.

“Actually, yes. He’s not all that bad. I’m going to his place after classes to work on the lesson plan, he asked me yesterday to even bring Lucy over so she could meet Alpine.” You tell her.

“Oh- wow, really? He’s being so... nice to you...” She responds.

“I-I know... I don’t understand why... He made it clear he doesn’t really enjoy my company.” You respond.

“Yeah... Well, this is new. I hope he keeps up with it.” She pats you on the shoulder as you reach the lecture hall.

“Yeah, me too.” You say, turning to her before going in.

“Hey, can I stop by your office for something at lunch?”

“Sure, see you then!” You tell her, setting up for your class.

-

Lunch time comes around, and Natasha was already waiting for you when you finished your class by lunchtime. You remembered James also asking to come by to eat with you and work, so you tried to make it quick with Natasha.

“So, you and Bruce already finished your lesson plans?” You ask, looking for a booklet she needed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to work with. Kinda a nerd, but he knows his shit.” She says, smiling and leaning against your desk. “Any reason you’re in a rush?” She asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, uh, James is coming to eat here so we can get ahead on the lesson.” You tell her, looking back through your drawer.

“That’s... interesting.” Natasha’s brows were drawn together. “You two seem to have a lot of time allotted together.”

“Well, we have only a little of our lessons done, and we really don’t want to show up unprepared. You know how much I hate that.” You tell her, finally finding what she needed.

Outside your office, James was just about to walk in when he heard your voices.

“Yeah... Just wondering, did he ever... apologize for what he said that one night?” Nat asks.

“Uhm, n-no. He’s been really kind to be as of late, so I’m assuming we’re turning a new leaf... But he makes me... nervous sometimes. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look at my lesson plan ideas. He looked like he would rather violently bash his skull in than work with me. I’m just- I’m confused. What made him change his mind?” You think out loud, really wondering if James’ behavior was genuine.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I think you should give him a chance. Don’t be so weary. If he’s being nice, don’t question it. I don’t know why he was like that with you from the beginning, but you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over the fact that he’s actually treating you with respect.” Natasha puts her hand over yours, meeting your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I know. I know I deserve respect, but it’s been hard lately. Ever since my family stopped talking to me, I feel like a failure. They don’t understand that I deserve that respect either. They think teaching is a shit job, they think I won’t get anywhere in life with it. I’m just sick and tired of them acting like I didn’t work hard to get where I am today.”

I talked to my brother the other day, and he said the same thing they’ve been saying since I started my PhD. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere with this, you should get a boyfriend, we want grandkids.’ Like, okay! I get it! But where the hell am I supposed to find a guy when the cute one doesn’t even like me!? And my last boyfriend was in my undergrad. I feel a like teenager. I have literally no romantic life.” You huff out, absolutely tired of this.

“I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. You deserve a family that’s supportive of you and your passions. I hope Wanda and Carol and I have maybe helped you, kind of like a work family, y’know?” She holds your hand tighter. “We’ll always be here for you.”

You smile, walking around your desk to hug her.

“Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you all so much. I don’t think you’ll ever really know.” You hug her tightly before letting go. “James should be here any minute now, but we’ll talk more after class?”

“You betcha, but don’t think I forgot what you said... Maybe he does like you.” She says, and your face turns beet red.

“Natasha, no. I think he’s made it very clear he’s not into me. Like, at all. I’m surprised we’re even working together. I didn’t think he would cooperate.” You laugh. “Okay, seriously, you gotta go. I don’t want him to walk in on us talking about him.”

“Okay, okay, talk later. Bye, Y/N.” She says, making her way out, and Bucky pushes himself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, yeah?” She says to him, not even looking back. Natasha only stops when she doesn’t hear his response, turning around. “Listen to me, Bucky. We may be friends, but so are Y/N and I. I don’t know if it was me or Steve who finally knocked some sense into the dumb head of yours, but if she comes to me again, crying, telling me she can’t take it from you anymore, I promise; you’ll be off this faculty faster than you can say ‘tenure.’ Now, am I understood, Barnes?” Natasha concludes, completely in Bucky’s personal space.

“I- yes. I understand.” He gulps, looking down at his hands. “I-I’ve been trying. To be nice to her. I know what I did before was wrong, but I’m trying, okay? Steve and I had a... a long talk.”

“Yeah, whatever. This better not just be a one-time-thing. From here on out, I want no complaints from her. She’s been through enough shit, and she doesn’t need any more from you. I have somewhere to be, and so do you.” Natasha says, parting ways and letting Bucky release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He composes himself one last time, and walks into your office.

“Hi, James.” You give him a soft smile, “Take a seat, we’ve got work to do.”

-

When your last lecture finished, you made your way home to get what you needed to head to James’ apartment. He’d texted you the address and told you you could come by any time after 6:30.

You were thinking back on your lunch break with him. He was quiet, almost nervous to be sitting in front of you, and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why.

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so demure, and you wonder why he was suddenly so shy. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a remark, or take a jab at you. But now, he was quiet as a mouse.

It was concerning, to say the least.

So, on your way to his apartment, which was a solid 15 minutes drive, you call Natasha for advice.

“Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” You ask while you drive.

“Yeah, everything alright?” Natasha’s voice filters through your car’s speakers.

“Oh, I’m fine, but did something happen with James? He was acting so... odd today... He was so quiet, so nice. His behavior has been so different lately.” Your brows were furrowed, genuinely trying to crack this puzzle.

“Uh... well, isn’t it a good thing?” She asks.

“I mean, yes, but did someone say something to him?” You ask, puzzled.

“Uh, no...” lie, “maybe he’s just turning over a new leaf, Y/N. I think you should stop worrying yourself over it so much. And if you really want answers, just confront him about it.” Natasha concludes.

“...Okay. You’re right. I think I’m just reading too much into this. I need to go, I’m almost there. Thanks, Nat.” You tell her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck.” And the line goes dead.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Luce.” You look over at her carrier in the seat next to yours, where she’s curled up into a ball inside.

-

Once you park and text James to let him know you’re on your way up, you sling your laptop bag over your shoulder and grab Lucy’s carrier.

As you make your way inside, you stop at the concierge desk, where an older man with grey hair and glasses greets you. His name tag reads Stan.

“Hi, I’m here to see James Barnes?” You tell him, looking at the grandiosity of the lobby.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks, and you nod. “He said he was expecting you. Not that I don’t trust you, but I just need a form of ID before I can let you up.” You nod again, handing over you driver’s license.

He hands it back, giving an approving nod.

“Elevators are to the right, he’s in 12B.” Stan tells him, and you give him appreciative ‘thank you’ before you scurry to the elevator.

When you knock on his door, it takes a second for him to open it, a faint ‘Al, one second!’ resonating through the door, making you snort out a laugh.

“Hey, sorry about that. Come in,” Bucky finally appears, swinging his door wide open.

You walk in, setting down Lucy and taking your shoes off.

“So, is Alpine friendly with other cats?” You ask, weary of unzipping the carrier.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” He asks, but stops when he sees your expression fall.

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, It’s just- Lucy’s a bit shy, but she typically likes other cats.” You say, looking down at her.

“I-I’m sorry- that was rude. I wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, I swear. Alpine’s friendly with other cats, but he needs a little time to warm up to other people. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t too fond of you at first.” He laughs, directing you to his couch where Alpine was perched.

“Oh, hi baby!” You coo, holding out your hand to Alpine. He tentatively inspects you with his eyes, first, and then sniffs you. He then, his head buts against your hand, asking for affection.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, shocked at how friendly Alpine was being. He barely even looked at Steve and Sam when they come by. But here he was, purring and shoving himself against you.

“Well, I think Lucy won’t have a problem with him at all.” You smile, bringing the carrier over to the end of the couch and unzipping it, letting Lucy move at her own pace.

At first, she just wearily looks at Alpine and the unfamiliar setting. She then looks at you, where you encouragingly coo at her, making sure she was comfortable.

Bucky gazes at the whole scene with a soft look, watching as Lucy slowly saunters out of the carrier, sniffing Alpine and the couch. Soon enough, Alpine sniffs back, and they start playing with each other, forgetting their owners completely.

You both laugh at how well they were getting along, and the contrast between the black and white furs making it that much better.

“Well, should we get started?” You ask, finally turning to Bucky with a big smile.

In that moment, his throat goes dry, and all he can think is... She has a beautiful smile.

“James? Everything alright?” You ask, breaking him out of his trance.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got distracted for a minute... Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?” He asks, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

“Uhm, I don’t mind, whatever you’d like.” You smile, grabbing your laptop.

“So... Italian, then?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Sure.” You answer. “Where can we sit to work?”

“Oh, the table’s fine, we can eat while we work, too. Let me go order really quick.” He excuses himself after pointing to his dining table, and heading into the kitchen.

When Bucky reaches the kitchen, he takes a second to compose himself. He pinches in between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t know why he was acting like a teenager, he felt himself get flustered around you.

After he pulls himself together, he orders the food and comes back outside, finding you focused on something extremely intently on your screen.

“James, what do you think for something like this for a more interactive activity?” You ask, turning your computer to him, waiting for him to read the plan, biting your lip nervously.

“This- this is awesome, doll. This looks really good, the students would love this.” He tells you, reading over it one more time.

“O-Oh, thanks.” You thank him shyly, stomach fluttering while looking down at your lap again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“Oh, the food-” James moves to grab his wallet, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“James, you’ve already been so hospitable, let me get it-” You say, but he shakes off your hand and shakes his head.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I insist,” he responds, beating you to the door and handing the delivery man his card, letting him ring it up quickly.

You huff, sitting back down in your spot with a pout.

“James, you suck,” you huff, visibly annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did. Now, let’s eat. You good with red wine?” He asks, pulling out two wine glasses.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, unpacking the food as he pours some wine.

As he sets down some plates, he sees your expression still pouty, like a child.

“Y/N, stop pouting.” You look so cute. “You can get it next time.” I wish I could kiss you.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You ask, your face turning red yet again.

“I mean, we’re going to have to make more lesson plans, depending on how long Fury keeps this up.” He laughs, but you freeze at his words.

It’s true, you think to yourself, we’re probably going back to how it was before when this is all over. That’s probably why he’s being nice to me.

“Hey, you alright? Did I say something?” James asks, a concerned look on his face.

“N-No, you’re good. Sorry. Ready to eat?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah... You sure everything’s okay?” He asks again, trying to make sure.

“James, everything is okay, please. Let’s just eat.” You smile, placing a hand over his in reassurement.

-

Dinner was delicious, and now you and James were sipping on wine while working, occasionally checking on Lucy and Alpine.

“Hey, do you think a group project could work? I usually give some to my students, I have a template I follow, but you could change it to your liking-” James tells you, but you cut him off with your thoughts.

“James, can I ask you a question?” You ask, hovering a hand over his.

“S-Sure. What’s up?” He sounds weary.

“You know, before we started this project, you like... loathed me.” You say. “Why?” Your voice breaks at that last word, barely getting it out of your throat.

“I... I just-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, grabbing your hand, “I thought you were... snobby, stuck up. I thought you came to this school thinking you were better than everyone else, that you were here to one-up us all.”

And before you could cut him to deny it with your shaking head, he continues.

“And I know now that I was wrong. I-I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, especially at the bar. After you left and Steve took me home, he basically yelled at me and told me how what I thought of you was completely off. I shouldn’t have assumed all those things about you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, one day.” He concludes, holding onto your hand so tightly to convey just how sorry he was.

“I- Oh, James. Y-You know, I never meant to come off that way. I just- I’ve always had trouble making friends and talking to people, and things have been hard recently. I never meant to make you o-or anyone else, for that matter, to feel that way. I’m so sorry.” You say, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Y/N, doll.” James moves out of his seat, wrapping you in his arms. “I can’t even tell you how much I wish I was more open-minded, more patient. Ever since Steve and Nat have talked to me, I’ve been just-”

“Nat? What has Natasha told you?” You stop him, pulling away.

“She- she just told me to stop. She told me you’ve been going through a lot, and that I wasn’t making it any better for you so-”

“Did she say what? Why would she tell you about my personal life-” You begin to ramble and waving your hands around.

“Doll, no she didn’t-”

“She had no right to say-”

But before you could continue, Bucky cuts you off.

With his lips.

Against yours.

Bucky was kissing you.

Oh my god, he’s kissing me!

You pull away looking at him in utter shock.

“Wh- What did you do that for?”

“I just- You were rambling, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.” James says, a blush creeping up his neck.

“So you kissed me?” You ask incredulously.

“Uh- yes?” He says, more like asks.

“I uh... I have to go.” You say, looking anywhere but his eyes as you gather your items, hunting down Lucy and putting her in her carrier; much to her protest and distaste.

“Y-Y/N, please, don’t go. Let’s just talk!” James pleads, but you’re not listening.

“N-No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in class next week. Bye, James.” You huff out, running to the nearest stairwell.

A part of you wanted him to run after you, but you needed time to process... whatever that was.

Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or because he wanted to shut you up?

You cut the drive home into half, the first thing you do after getting through your door is calling Natasha.

“Nat, I fucked up...” Your voice was weak through the phone.

And back in Bucky’s apartment, he dialed Steve’s number.

“Steve, I fucked up... real bad.” He meekly provides, his head in his hands.

-

a/n: oh boy. what’s gonna happen ??? hmmm... let me know down below! hope you guys enjoyed ;)

also, did y’all peep my stan lee cameo? :)

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

Thank you for reading! Please inbox me to be tagged or to say hi :)

[maisondenachtai]

Thanksgiving at Home (The Re-Up)

plot: a loving shot at my family through the eyes of Chris Evans and Reader.

a/n: ....I’m stupid. Thanks anon who told me that Boston was not in Maine. ...i feel like an idiot.

               “No. It’s your turn.”

               You couldn’t deny it. It was an absolute fact that according to the terms of your agreement that it was, in fact, your turn.

               In the beginning of your relationship, which had started three years ago, holidays had always been a source of frustration. He was from the north, Massachusetts, and you were from the south, Georgia. You wanted to see your family, and he desperately needed to hug his mom.

               So, you decided to split the holiday, you would go home to Georgia and he would go back to Massachusetts. After that first year, you would flip flop who you spent holidays with. That meant that the next year you spent Thanksgiving in Boston with him, and Christmas at home in Georgia with your mother and Sister.

               So yes, that meant it was your turn to spend Thanksgiving with your family. But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Seriously, we don’t have to do Thanksgiving in Georgia. I’ll take Christmas again. It’s nicer.” You were sitting on the bed, looking at his half-packed suitcase, Dodger laying next you, his eyes moving to and fro watching his Dad pack a bag of clothes.

“If I wasn’t sure that you loved me, I’d really think you didn’t want me in Georgia.” He looked back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. “You got an old boyfriend you don’t want me to meet there.”

“A? Many. And who said they were old boyfriends. Maybe I’m still seeing them.” You smirked back at him. You couldn’t help but fall into games with your man, even though you were far from light and joyous.

“Watch it.” He pointed at you with a mock serious look on his face. “I hate to have to fight them.”

“I doubt you could take them.” You looked up in the air. “One was a football player; he’s actually playing for the Falcons now.”

Chris looked back at you, a white button down in his hands. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Oh yeah. He actually sends me tickets from time to time. There’s actually a game on thanksgiving! Maybe we should go. I’ll send him an email.” You stood up, to grab your laptop.

“Y/n, so help me, I will throw that piece of tin out of the window.” He said, a smile threatening to burst onto his serious face. “Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not. We should go to a game. We’re going to be in Atlanta anyway. …you know unless we go to Boston.”

Suddenly his eyes lowered and he shook his head, folding the shirt in half and walking towards his open luggage. “Dodger.”

The dog barked softly.

“Tell your mom that she’s got to try a lot harder to get one over on me.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. You laid back and Dodger took this change to take a position on your stomach, making himself comfortable. “This is so stupid.”

“I mean, you know we bought the tickets, already right? So, the time for you to try all of this plan changing would have been a month ago.” He sat next to you running his hand over Dodger’s body. “And you were so fucking excited. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. …Nothing. I’m just nervous.”

“Why? I’ve met your family.”

You sat up, making sure to do so slowly so Dodger could adjust himself accordingly. “You’ve met my Sisters, their boyfriends, and her mom. Not my family.”

Chris looked at you, “I’m failing to see the problem. So we do some introductions and get to know each other? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal Christopher Robert Evans-“You had hopped up, Chris grabbing Dodger before you flung him towards in the wall in your movement.

“Ooh Dodger, she used the government name. She’s serious.”

You tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t stop the thing from breaking your serious expression. “Stop it. I’m serious.”

“I know.” He smiled at you, and then rolled his hand around as if to say continue. “Come on lay it on me.”

“I’m from Georgia.”

His eyes shifted from side to side, as if the answer to his confusion was in the room. “I’m from Massachusetts…so what?”

“No, you don’t get it. I’m from Georgia…not Atlanta. My family is from Georgia. There’s a difference.”

In silence of the moment, Dodger slipped out of Chris’ arms into the living room. Chris folded his arms, looking at you.

“…If I get what you’re being obtuse about. You’re trying to say that you don’t want me meeting your overall wearing, one tooth, inbred, backwoods cousins.” He had that smirk again. You wanted to both kiss him and wipe it off of his face.

“Hey! None of my cousins are any of that.”

“Okay then, so what’s the problem.”

               You sighed and sat down, and he pulled you closer to him. You placed your face in his neck, his gold chain pressing slightly against your nose.

“I’m not embarrassed by them…” You said a little muffled by his body. “I just want to say that.”

“Okay… I’m listening.”

You sighed again, pulling back from him. “…It’s just…like…okay. Your family, like the house was put together and everyone was sitting around the table. We passed plates and it was all very nice.”

“Okay, and at Christmas at your mom’s we sat around the table and we didn’t pass plates but no one needs to do that. It was nice too.”

“But it’s not going to be like that at Thanksgiving Chris. Most of my immediate family will be there. The table we at for Christmas will be covered in food. We’re going to walk around the table buffet style, and everyone’s going to sit around the house, wherever they can fit. There will be no real plates, no real spoons. There’s probably going to be a kids area that will be messy.”

“Kids are messy everywhere baby.”

“I’m not done. There will be foreign foods. Oxtails, and chitterlings. Dressing…not stuffing.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It is not!” You shook your head. “It’s totally different. There are going to be several things going on too. My uncle is going to sit in the middle of the room, with tequila, a lime, and he’s going to tell stories we’ve all heard 18 million times. He’s going to curse and we’re all going to be annoyed. My younger cousins are going to sneak out of the house, stand in a huddle behind the house and smoke weed, and talk about us old folks. My grandma is going to get drunk on Sparkling Cider, and probably try to flirt with you, and you better flirt back Chris.”

He chuckled then rubbing your back, “Of course I will. Now are you-“

“And I haven’t even told you about Spades.”

“Spades?” He found your eyes. “Like the card game.”

“Yeah. Spades goes down at Thanksgiving, and it is SERIOUS Chris. It’s like war, but less civilized.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up walking back into the closet, “You’re being dramatic now.”

“I’ve seen my cousin pull a gun out on somebody who reneged. I SEENT IT.”

“So okay, I won’t play spades.”

“What? And look like a bitch in front of all my cousins. You’ll never live it down. They’ll be at our wedding giving a toast like, ‘Hey Chris is a cool white dude, but he still a bitch cause he won’t play Spades with us’. I don’t want to be the cousin who married a white dude who won’t play spades. I can’t do it. I’ll be the black sheep.”

Chris gripped your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. “Breathe baby.”

And you did.

“Again. Good and deep.”

And you did again.

“You feel better?”

You did, so you nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m saying this because I love you.” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth. “You’re acting like a nut.”

“I know. I know.” You said when he let you go. “I just want them to like you.”

He kissed your forehead. “They will like me. I mean how could they not first of all?” He grinned at you making you roll your eyes. He smoothed his hand down the side of your face, “And even if they don’t like me right away, they’ll grow to like me. And if they don’t…” He kissed you softly, soundly. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. You love me. And that’s all that matters. Okay?”

You closed your eyes, nodding. “Okay.”

“Say it.” He commanded gently.

“I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters.” You opened your eyes and your irises met his, you felt calmer.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now pack, boarding is at 8.”

--

               Atlanta never failed to take your breath away. It was so familiar, yet every time you returned there was always something new being built or done. You pointed out so many spots that you wanted to see before you returned to Los Angeles, and Chris made sure to note them all down on his phone wanting you to enjoy your time home as much as you could.

               After your father died, your mother decided that the deep south had nothing to offer you and your sisters anymore and decided to uproot you from all that you knew. Suddenly you were nearly two hours from the bulk of your family, living in a suburb of Atlanta that you knew no one in. It wasn’t your home at first, but eventually you had come to love Atlanta as much as you loved your little small town in Southern Georgia.

               As you came closer to your neighborhood you began to point of places of significance.

“There used to be this spot right there. Oh my god, they used to have the best hot wings. Like everyone tends to rave over American Deli, but they had better wings than anything I’ve ever tasted.” You said as you passed a spot that was under construction.

As you passed through the opening of the subdivision of your neighborhood, you smiled and pointed at the sign. “The neighborhood kids all used to hang around that sign. I had my first real kiss right there.”

Chris raised one of his eyebrows, “Real kiss?”

You smirked, “Tongue.”

He chuckled. “How old were you?”

“13.”

“Weak. I was 12.”

“Lie.”

“It is not a lie.”

“Chris, you’re about to pass it.”

“Shit!” He pressed on breaks, making you skid slightly to a stop a few inches away from your house.

               There were cars parked along the side of the road, a few on the grass without care to your mom’s poor lawn. You figured you’d be a little late, traffic was heavy, the airport had been busy of course, but …this was a Black family thanksgiving. 1 meant 3, not 2:30.

“Fuck. We’re walking right into it.” You said, sighing.

“Will you calm down? It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re definitely fine.” He waggled his eyebrows a little making you smile and then really smile when his eyes traveled down your white knit sweater dress covered body to the camel colored knee-high boots that he nearly begged you to wear.

You reached over and adjusted the collar of his white cable knit crew neck under his camel colored jacket. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, that you thought gave him an air of formal to go with his more casual upper attire. “You’re pretty fine too.” You smiled and leaned over to kiss him-

Thump.

But you jumped instead when your sister appeared at your window, somehow sneaking up on you. You rolled your eyes, sighing and rolling down the window.

“Hello Cassie.”

“Hello Y/n.” She grinned. “Hey Chris, I’m so happy my sister is no longer hiding your beauty from the world.”

“Hey Cass. Glad to see you again.”

“Glad to see you too.” She smirked.

You thumped her forehead, “What did I say about flirting with my boyfriend?”

“Don’t do it when you’re around?” She joked.

“Wrong, you little bitch.”

She laughed.

You grinned too. “Where’s Falen?”

“Feeding Cam. He’s so chunky.”

“I can’t wait to hold him.” You smiled at Chris. He grinned back at you. You had been talking about kissing all over your nephew for a month now.

“Well if you stop hiding in this…very nice car. You can. Come on Chris, everyone is really excited to meet you.”

               And just like that you were following behind your boyfriend and your little sister into what could be a doomed thanksgiving from hell. You nervously followed them into the house, not joining in on the conversation as Chris and Cassie talked about politics. Turning without much fuss, as Chris took off your duster and hung it in the closet, doing the same with his jacket.

You only followed numbly as you walked through the opening to your home, heart beating faster as the sounds of your family got louder. Just as it was at it’s peak, you gripped Chris’s hand, stopping in your tracks therefore stopping him.

He looked back at you, Cassie kept walking still somehow talking about how Biden was not the President we wanted or needed. You looked up at him, not able to say anything only looking up at him with wide eyes.

His lips were on your forehead quickly, placing three kisses in succession, one there, then your nose, and finally your lips. Silently he reassured you that things would be fine, and together you stepped through the threshold into your family room.

               Gatherings could be a lot for you. In a lot of the memories of the gatherings attended by you in your youth, you could only remember being a fly on the wall. Choosing to instead be passive instead of active like your sisters and your cousins. You weren’t anti-social, but you felt more comfortable laughing at the jokes then trying to tell them.

As you grew it got a little better, but you never felt quite comfortable in big group of people. In fact, after an event such as this one, you often needed to sleep for a long time. When you told Chris this before your first Thanksgiving with his family, he admitted to being kind of the same. He might not need to sleep after a big event, but he wasn’t quite the social butterfly either. It made you happy that he understood when you had to excuse yourself from drinking eggnog with the family late into the night. It made you even happier when he told you the next morning that his family understood too.

               With your family it was much of the same, your family understood that you weren’t the loudest and most of the time they were too busy being loud themselves to need you to be just as loud as them. It was just enough for you to be there sharing in the love of the family.

But not this time.

This time all the attention was on you and it was time to speak up.

               “So, Chris…where did you two meet?” The slight drawl of your Aunt cut through the sounds of The Temptations singing Silent Night, a favorite of your mom’s anytime of year…obviously.

“Uh, she…I mean Y’N was a consultant on a movie I was doing. I saw her and she was too beautiful for me not to get to know. So I asked her out for coffee.” He smiled at you then. “She said no.”

“You said no?” One of your male cousins, Taylor, called out. “Shiiit, if I was a girl I would have jumped on his ass.” He sucked his teeth. “Hell, shit, I’d jump right now. He got hella money.”

The room erupted into laughter and all of sudden the ice was broken. Chris was no longer an interloper…well he was, but he was no longer covered in plastic. He could be touched, he could be handled, he could be interwoven into the group.

You sighed, a little of your worry dissipating.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

                 To his credit, if anything was making him feel uncomfortable, he was taking it in stride. Chris had enjoyed when all your little cousins came up to him and asked him questions about Captain America, and asked if he was always Captain America or just on TV. You could tell because when he smiled, his face creased. He even did a few poses for them, which they loved.

When one of your cousins, Devontae, came over to Chris with a bottle of something clear and a smile you knew that this one would be a little harder. But again, he took it in stride as Devontae pitched him an idea of a TV show with talking Weed Plants, kind of like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Chris simply smiled through it, shaking his head when you made eyes at him obviously getting the message that you could save him if he wanted you to. After Devontae walked away needing to captivate the attention of at least 5 other people in the room.

He was considerably more relaxed in a group of the male cousins you had grown up around. They had formed a sort of semi-circle, Chris in the middle with a long neck beer in his hand, nodding at what ever George had to say.

“Chris is doing good.” Falen said, leaning over slightly, adjusting Camden’s bib while he was in your arms.

“Yeah. He’s really fitting in.” You smiled and then cooed at Cam bouncing on his knee. “I want to take him home.”

“He’s yours. I’ll sign the papers today.” Falen joked. “So, it’s serious then.”

“What?”

“What?” Falen mimicked you, rolling your eyes reminding you of yourself. “You and Chris.”

“You know it’s serious Fay.” You mom chimed in. “She brought him home.”

“I brought him to Christmas last year.”

“Thanksgiving is different and you know it.” Your mom said pointing her wine glass in your direction.

“I told him that.” You mumbled, looking down at Camden who only looked back up you with sweet innocent brown eyes.

“Well I’m glad you are trying to lock him down. You two match, you know.” Falen grinned.

“And the matching outfits were just the right touch.” Cassie chimed in smirking at you.

You flipped her off, discreetly. Your grandma was still in front of you…although already sleeping.

“Shut up Cassie.” Falen chuckled. “Seriously. …I think he might propose soon.”

You chuckled shaking your head, “Nah. I don’t think so.”

Falen grinned, “If you say so little sis.” She patted her knee and then looked around. “Ma! When’s the food going to be ready. You said 1!”

“You know that means 3. Don’t get brand new in front of Chris.” You smirked.

               The spread of food was glorious. A beautiful turkey, a delicious ham from Honeybaked Ham cause no one had perfected the art of making a good ham, a huge pan of cornbread dressing collectively called dressing, two pans of Macaroni and Cheese cause one pan never survived your family’s greedy hands, turnips, collard greens and cabbages, cornbread muffins, hoe cakes, yams with marshmallow topping (your Auntie’s one and only dish that tasted okay), and a plate of various pieces of fried chicken. But none of this would be complete without your mother’s potato salad.

It was a feast to end all feasts. A dinner you dreamed about. You would have cried if it wouldn’t have made you look crazy. Chris held two thick paper plates, one for him and one for you, while you held Cam who you were never going to give back. You patted the baby’s back, he had just had a bottle full of milk thickened with a little baby rice, a special treat for Thanksgiving (it was your grandma’s idea).

“Come on little Cam, burp. Chris, more dressing. That’s not enough. It’s gotta be nearly half the plate. And you gotta put the cranberry sauce on top.” You said.  It was comical to watch Chris hold his plate, your plate, and also try to ladle dressing onto a plate.

“Here.” You chuckled holding out Cam. “You hold my new baby. And I’ll make our food.”

“No, wait. I need to ask your sister if I can hold him first.” He said looking around for Falen.

“It’s fine, you won’t drop him cause if you do I’ll kill you.” You smirked at him.

“I need to wash my hands.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now who’s acting like a nut.” You took one plate from him then the other sitting them down and then walked into his personal space. He opened up for you almost cradling you and Cam.

“Now I know you have held a baby before, so don’t freak out now.” You handed him off to Chris and he instantly held the Camden in his arms, supporting him as Cam settled in the crook of his neck. You looked at the sight, your man holding a little brown boy, and you could almost imagine that Camden was your baby.

Your stomach flip flopped, and you gnawed down on your lip at the sight.

Chris smirked, knowing exactly what was on your mind. “Make the food.”

“I am. I am.” You chuckled, not daring to look at any of your family members.

“Ohhhhh, we’re making plates now. Okay, Y’n!” Julie, your Aunt’s daughter called out, making you chuckle in embarrassment.

Making plates had a lot of connotations in black families. It all but signaled that Chris was your man and you were totally subservient to him.

“You want some yams baby?” You said putting on a sickly-sweet voice to amuse your family members.

The room filled with Awws and whipping noises at your question. You turned and found Chris’s face red, but he was still patting Cam’s back like you had been doing.

“He didn’t burp yet?” You asked.

“Not yet, I don’t think.”

“Mm. We probably need to get you a burping towel. It might be-“

The wet burping noise stopped your sentence stopped you in your tracks, making you look up at your man who was looking down at Cam, who was looking quite satisfied at the burp he had just let out and the off white spit up stain he left on Chris’ shirt.

“Oh no babe.” You laughed a little.

“He spit up a little.” He said, a little amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. Good job baby boy.” You rubbed Cam’s back.

“Oh nooo. I’m so sorry Chris.” Falen came over easing Cam out of Chris’s arms, which made him a little agitated. “I can pay for dry cleaning.” She frowned a little.

“No. No. No. It’s fine. It’s just a little spit up. No need for all of that.” He laughed.

“Well Y’N, at least go try to clean it up.” You mom said. “We have tide pens and stuff in the upstairs guest bathroom.”

Your mouth opened up, jaw hanging a little, “But my food! It’s gonna get cold.”

Your mother put her hands on her hips, “Well yeah it is, cause you’re sitting here back talking me instead of getting your behind up those stairs and cleaning his shirt. Now go.”

“Yes mam.” You put the plates down on a slightly clear space on the table and grabbed Chris’s hand. “Come on Chris.”

--

Chris sat on the edge of the tub and watched you as you washed Cam’s spit up out of his shirt.

“Dang it Cam. Now my food is getting cold.” You muttered.

“You’re calmer.” He commented.

You looked over at him. He was only wearing his pants, a tank top, his pendant necklace hanging off his neck. He looked…really good.

“Yeah. It’s been a good day.” You nodded, putting more hand soap on his sweater. “Are you having fun?” You looked over at him, hoping that he would say yes even if he didn’t mean it.

“A blast honestly. Your family is so warm, and inviting. So funny. And I love how they love you.” He hitched his pants up and stood, walking over you and standing behind you in the mirror. You looked at his reflection, his shirt momentarily forgotten.

“But you know what I love even more?”

You smiled, “Me.”

He grinned too, kissing the top of your head, “…Your mom’s potato salad.”

You turned around and smacked his chest with a wet hand making a loud noise.

“What it’s so good. Oh my god. Get that recipe.” He chuckled and pulled you close to him wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him, kissing his chin. “No, seriously. I love how bright you’re smiling. How happy you are to be home. How relaxed you are. That accent you have slipped back into.”

“I did not.”

“Oh yes you did.” He smirked. “But I love how you, you are right here in this house. …I would give up every thanksgiving to see you be this relaxed.”

“I love you Chris.” You said quietly.

“I love you. So much.”

               And then he kissed you.

And you wished you could say that kiss lasted forever, or went on and on but of course-

Knock, Knock.

“Yn, Mama said no fornication in her Christian household.” Cassie shouted.

               And you both laughed.

   Epilogue

               You placed Cam down on your Mother’s bed, patting his back and kissing his head.

“He’s an angel. Ugh, we’re going to be here tomorrow and you better be here.” You said to Falen pointing at straight index finger at her.

“I will be. I’m not letting yall eat up all the leftovers.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Chris. “You did really good with Camden today Chris.”

“He’s a sweet baby. I did nothing.” Chris shrugged.

“So…planning to have some of your own?”

“Oh kay, we’re leaving now. Tell mom I see her tomorrow and Cassie I will see her tomorrow and to eat a dick.” You gripped Chris’ hand pulling him to the coat closet, allowing him to help you into your coat, and helping him smooth out his jacket.

“Goodnight everyone!” He called out, earning many well wishes as he walked out.

“Oh shit.”

You walked out of the door, focusing on closing the door after yourself. “What’s wrong, is there a big dog out her or-“ You looked up and almost laughed.

Damien, your ex-boyfriend the Falcon football player was standing in front of you two. A bag in one hand and a smile on his face.

“Oh shit, Damien. I can’t believe you’re here!” You passed Chris, hugging Damien.

“Oh yeah. I always come out to your mom’s house after the games. Can’t pass up on the potato salad.” He smiled, sharing a laugh with you and then smiling at Chris. “So this is the dude. Nice to meet you man. I love Captain America.”

Chris shook off the shock, and stuck out his hand, shaking with Damien. “Thank you. And you’re a great football player.”

“Thank you man. Yall need to come out to a game. I’m always offering your girl here tickets but she says you’re a Patriot fan.”

“Oh yeah, gotta go with the home team.”

“Respect man.”

               Chris and Damien talked for another couple of minutes before Damien excused himself into the house. Chris looked at you, shock written on his face.

You smirked, “You thought I was bullshitting you didn’t you?”

Chris shook his head, taking your hand and walking towards the rental car. “When we get home, I’m throwing that piece of tin out of the window and you’re changing your email.”

You smirked.

“Jealous.”

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (2/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Part of the @tododekubigbang for 2021! I’m super excited to share this AU with everyone. And please check out the awesome compaion art from @cryptidcatgod for chapter six!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Chapter One: (X)

“You agreed?” Kyouka all but shouts into the phone. Despite her over-the-top reaction, Shouto’s still not sure who is more surprised out of the two of them.

“I didn’t exactly agree. I just didn’t…say no.” Even as he says it, Shouto is aware that from him that is basically an agreement. God what was he getting himself into?

Kyouka is talking rapidly but he’s not entirely sure that she’s talking to him. The range of emotions she seems to be going through is impressive, though. Finally, she takes a deep breath and asks, “You’re going to talk about your family?”

Shouto sinks to the ground outside the building and leans against a tree. He hasn’t put back any of his “protective” civilian clothing and there’s a good chance of him being seen by more students, but he doesn’t have the energy to move again just yet.

“He didn’t ask me to talk about my family,” he finally admits. It’s stupid, he doesn’t even care about this kind of thing, but it wasn’t until he said it out loud that he realized how relieved he is that someone wants to talk about something – anything - other than that. “He wants me to talk about my quirk.”

They sit in silence together for a few moments. Shouto can hear the muffled sound of Momo talking to Kyouka in the background, likely asking what the hell was going on. Kyouka doesn’t seem to know what to say about this revelation, or the breathless way Shouto is talking about it, so she settles with, “So I guess he’s not a fame-hungry douchebag?”

The idea of Kyouka calling the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed professor that almost makes Shouto smile – almost. “No, I don’t think he is.”

“Huh,” Kyouka sounds almost as surprised as he is. “So, this is good, right? That you agreed?”

“Uh, I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

Kyouka snorts, but at least she sounds more like herself and not as off-kilter as he still feels. “Think you’ll know by Friday? Momo wants you to come over for dinner.”

Shouto shakes his head. “I doubt it but, sure. Thanks.”

“Good luck, Todoroki.”

They end the call with promises to try to talk down Momo from the interrogation she’s probably already planning (from Kyouka) and the chocolate cake from Sato’s bakery for dessert on Friday (from Shouto).

 X

Shouto wouldn’t say he was waiting for the professor’s email, but after the third comment on his surprisingly frequent use of the phone, he forces himself to push the meeting from the previous day from his mind and focus on work. He and Momo started their agency in Musutafu together a few years ago, and as the only senior-hero in the office for the night, he needed to set a good example. Especially when Monarch, a sidekick who had followed him when he left Gang Orca’s agency to start on his own, was in the office too, and had no qualms about tattling on his weird behavior to Momo.

At least the others were still a little too intimidated to cross him, though he had a feeling he could only rely on that hero-worship for a little while longer. There were only so many times you could watch someone put their hero-suit on backwards or accidentally salt their coffee before you stopped fearing standing up to them.

Most of the night is rather easy after pushing the email from his mind. Patrols are pretty much standard. The lack of activity means most everyone who was in for the night could relax, or make a good dent in any paperwork or reports piling up after busier days.

Until the alert for a villain attack comes in.

Shouto rushes out at the first alert, accompanied by one of their newest sidekicks, Sunspot, but by the time they reach the site of the attack, the radio is a flurry of activity, and his pager from the agency beeped with at least three more alerts.

Downtown is a disaster area. The evening traffic is backed up for miles, and cars in the few blocks closest to the fight have all been abandoned. At least one building is already rubble, and two more look on the brink of falling.

“This is Entropy, where-” before Shouto can finish his offer of help, he recognizes Chargebolt’s voice cutting through the chatter.

One of the villains is headed towards the Rainbow bridge! he yells over the radio. He has a hostage!

Shouto takes off towards the bridge before he has even finished speaking, throwing an order for Sunspot to rendezvous with the paramedics gathering on the fringes to help with the injured as he leaves.

“What’s the quirk?” He asks, aware even as he does that he might have to go into the fight blind.

There are three! What are you talking about? Someone he doesn’t recognize snaps over the line.

Entropy, thank God, Ingenium’s voice drowns out the cursing. It’s hard to isolate them, they’ve been working in tandem but the one headed towards the bridge seems to be able to melt things – organic and inorganic material both. Be careful.

The bridge comes into view, and there is the fleeing villain, zipping unencumbered through the streets on what almost looks like lava, bubbling and expanding under their feet.

Shouto throws up a wall of ice a few feet away. It won’t stop them, especially if it is lava under them, but it could slow them down at least for a moment. He doesn’t see the hostage Chargebolt had mentioned until he gets closer. It is a terrified looking child, bundled against the villain’s chest, wrapped in some kind of bindings that keep it from fighting the hold or screaming for help. The bindings look sickeningly like Aizawa-sensei’s old capture weapon and if it is even a little similar, Shouto knew there was no way the child would be able to get out on their own.

“Stop!” Shouto calls, throwing up more ice. He blocks the villain in on all sides, but the bottom of the ice is already beginning to melt before he has all the walls up.

The villain finally looks up to where Shouto stands on the top of one of his melting blocks of ice. Their face is covered by a traditional kabuki mask, and when they laugh the familiar robotic sound tells him they are using a voice modulator.

“Entropy! This ice won’t hold me forever!”

It doesn’t have to be forever, Shouto thinks, reinforcing the bottom of the ice, just long enough for backup to arrive. Normally he could encase the villain in ice, limit their movements just in case and, if he was lucky, cool them off enough that they couldn’t melt it fast enough – assuming their quirk was even heat based – but he doesn’t have enough information now, and there is too much of a risk with the child hostage involved. He hates fights like this. He’d never been good at trying to negotiate with villains, and there was too much risk for his usual long-range fighting style.

He has an idea, but it is a risk. It is a dumb risk. And he prays if he dies down there Momo isn’t actually powerful enough to somehow revive him just to kill him again for his stupidity. But he jumps off the ice, landing a few feet from the villain. He sinks a few inches into the goop surrounding them. It helps absorb some of the shock of his landing, but already he can feel the oppressive heat rising from the ground. His boots are steaming a little, but so far, the heat protected material is holding up. Hopefully it will be enough.

The closer he gets to the villain the hotter the air becomes, and he can feel his right side trying to help regulate his body temperature.

“Give me the child,” He demands. “They shouldn’t be a part of this.”

The villain laughs again, but their voice comes out more muffled and sluggish than before. He has a feeling whatever support equipment they were using hadn’t been designed to withstand this kind of heat for so long.

“That’s what you don’t understand, hero. They are the reason for this!”

Shouto tries to look reassuring as the small child stares pleadingly at him, muffled cries coming from behind their bindings, though he isn’t sure if he is successful.

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re the key!” The villain yells, squeezing the child closer to their body, and Shouto hates to see the way they squirm uncomfortably. “A hero like you with a perfect quirk could never understand! Though I suppose, even you aren’t invincible, are you?” The villain swipes at their mask with their free hand, leaving a dark, sooty handprint over the left eye-slit of their mask. “How much heat can you really withstand?”

Shouto ducks out of the way just as the villain sends up a wave of melted material where he had been standing seconds before. The ice wall behind him sizzles at the contact, melting away a perfect person-sized opening.

Shouto holds up a hand, ready to throw up more ice before the villain can break through the weakened wall, when from the other side Ingenium and Mr. Smith burst through. Shouto propels himself upwards with ice, grabbing Ingenium at the last moment as Mr. Smith hardens the melted material around them, trapping the villain’s feet in the stiffened rock. Shouto drops them both back down and Ingenium shoots off towards the villain. Ingenium throws a punch, and hand-to-hand combat might not be his strongest selling point as a hero, but the villain is already at a disadvantage trying to hold onto the child. At least with the confirmation that they had kidnapped them intentionally, rather than just as leverage or protection, it meant they were less likely to do something that would hurt the child.

The rock around the villain’s feet is already beginning to melt again, but Shouto wraps ice around their legs, keeping them immobile enough for Mr. Smith to catch up, stiffening the villain’s shirt as they lift an arm to defend against Ingenium. They wave their hand uselessly, unable to move their arms much more in the cast around them. Shouto reaches for the child, carefully wiggling them out from the villain’s trapped arm. They catch his arm as he extracts the child, however, and his shout of pain is drowned out only by the villain’s own anguished scream.

“This isn’t over,” they promise. And then their entire body begins to melt. The three heroes reach for them, but Mr. Smith and Ingenium’s gloves catch on fire before they even make contact with the melting body. Shouto’s ice is absorbed into the goopy mess and in a few seconds, it was as if the villain had never been standing there at all.

“Shit,” Mr. Smith swears. He glances over at the child in Shouto’s arms and winces. “Sorry.”

Shouto nods to him, agreeing with the sentiment regardless, before taking a few steps away. He cradles the child close to his chest, wishing she didn’t feel so small, wishing there was something he could do about the way she trembled.

“You’re going to be okay,” he says softly, shifting her in his arms. He tests the bindings around her torso, but they don’t give. “You’re safe, and we’re going to get you out of this.”

“I can help.”

Shouto looks up at the new voice. A hero, presumably, stands before him, but he doesn’t recognize the newcomer. Their face is covered by a dark helmet, tinted glass hiding even their eyes. Their costume is a simple dark green bodysuit, but a tool belt at their waist boasts a truly impressive number of gadgets.

Shouto holds the girl closer to his body and looks the other person over. The other hero seems to understand his hesitance and reaches for something in their tool belt. Shouto shifts his weight, prepared to run if this interaction turns sour.

“Architect!” Ingenium calls, running up besides them. “I didn’t realize you were working.”

The stranger, Architect apparently, nods a greeting to Ingenium. “I was at the hospital checking on something when the attacks started so I came out to see if I could help.” He turns back to Shouto. “I was just about to introduce myself to Entropy so I could help with the bindings.”

“Architect is part of the support team at All Might-er, Lemillion’s agency,” Ingenium explains to Shouto. “He’s a friend.”

Architect produces a small pair of scissors from his tool belt. The blades are jagged and look dangerous, but he handles them carefully, finding a space away from any exposed skin.

“This will be a little uncomfortable,” he tells the young girl in a gentle voice. “But it will be over in a flash.”

The scissors don’t seem to actually cut through the bindings, but the jagged blades get caught in the rough fabric, pulling at it tightly as he moves them. The girl twists in Shouto’s arm with a quiet whimper, but a moment later the bindings seize and then loosen, dropping harmlessly from her body.

Shouto lowers her to the ground carefully and Architect crouches to be at eye-level with her.

“How are you feeling, Kou? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The girl shakes her head, staring at Architect with wide eyes. “How do you know my name?” she whispers, awed. Shouto would like to know that too, but Ingenium doesn’t seem at all surprised by the development, so he wills himself to let it go for now.

Architect tilts his head, and though he can’t see, Shouto suspects he’s looking at him. “Entropy told me,” he lies cheerfully. “He knows the name of all his fans.”

Kou whips around to stare at Shouto. “Really?”

“Ah…yes?”

“Wow.”

Architect and Ingenium both seem amused by the child’s awe. “I bet if you’re good and go with the heroes to get checked over by the doctors, Entropy might even give you an autograph for being so brave.”

Kou’s face scrunches up in displeasure, and Shouto doesn’t really blame her, but a moment later she reluctantly agrees. Architect stands up, waving to someone through the melting ice and a few more heroes come through, accompanied by two paramedics carrying a stretcher.

A moment later two detectives come through the ice as well, and Shouto is pulled into giving a report of what happened while he was alone with the villain and if he noticed anything distinctive about the villain’s appearance or quirk that could help track them down. When he’s finally done going over everything, Kou, the paramedics, and Architect are gone. Ingenium and Mr. Smith head back to where the fight began but Shouto stays behind to melt down what’s left of his ice first with a few other heroes with heat-based quirks, including Sunspot.

Once that’s taken care of, they head back. Sunspot gives him a rundown of the intel she gathered working closer to the main fight. One of the villains was mostly contained when the other two spilt up, the one with the child presumably looking for an escape while the other went deeper into town, ricocheting off buildings and bridges with some kind of body-hardening quirk that kept heroes preoccupied trying to minimalize damage and protect civilians from toppling structures. They have since been contained, however. From the discussion on the radios, rescue and clean-up teams have already started to move in.

Near where they first joined the fight, there is a circle of ambulances, back doors flung open while paramedics check on civilians and heroes alike. Shouto scans the area for Kou. He finally sees her perched in the back of an ambulance, talking animatedly with someone crouched on the ground in front of her.  She sees him as he’s making his way over and waves excitedly. There are red marks crisscrossing her arms from where the bindings were too tight and tear tracts on her rosy cheeks, but she doesn’t seem so bothered by either any more. Shouto waves back.

The person in front of Kou stands as Shouto approaches and turns to him with a smile.

“Entropy,” Dr. Midoriya says in greeting. “Kou was just telling me all about your daring rescue.”

“Dr. Midoriya…” Shouto doesn’t stumble as he comes to a stop near them, but it’s a near thing. He leans against one of the open ambulance doors in (faked) nonchalance. “I didn’t realize you would be here.”

Kou reaches out and tugs on Dr. Midoriya’s sleeve. “See!” She exclaims in a barely contained whisper to the professor. “I told you he’d know who you were! The other hero said he knows the names of all his fans!”

Shouto is pleasantly surprised at the bright blush that comes over the professor’s face at Kou’s whispering. He runs a hand through his hair, riling up the wild curls at the top even more and glances quickly at Shouto out of the corner of his eye. He looks away just as quickly with a nervous laugh.

“Well now, Kou, weren’t you also telling me something about wanting an autograph?” Dr. Midoriya asks, changing the subject easily.

Kou sticks her tongue out at him, but turns to Shouto a moment later with a suddenly shy look. “Um…Entropy,” she starts, his hero name coming out a little muddled as she stumbles over the word.

Remembering Architect’s promise to her, Shouto starts to reach for the notepad he keeps in his tool belt before she can even finish her question but his arm bumps into the ambulance door. The contact immediately sends a searing pain through his arm. With a hiss, and just barely swallowed curse, he pulls his arm in close. Based on their gasps, Kou and Dr. Midoriya see the injury just before he does. Part of his uniform sleeve is melted. Gaping, burnt holes in the fabric reveal splotchy, disfigured skin underneath – a burn. Made all the worse by the deep blue fabric that melted into the open sore. Shouto faintly remembers the villain touching his arm just as he rescued Kou and a flash of sharp pain, but somehow he blocked it out afterwards, so focused on keeping her safe.

Now with the throbbing, searing pain at the forefront of his mind, the fact that he went this long without noticing it feels unreal.

“Sit down,” Dr. Midoriya orders suddenly, pushing Shouto to take a seat in the back of the ambulance next to Kou. “Adrenaline must have blocked the pain, but you’re going to go into shock if we don’t take care of this.”

Behind the pain, Shouto faintly registers the change in the professor’s voice as he orders Shouto around and calls for some first aid supplies to the nearby paramedics. It reminds him of the sudden way he changed in his office the other day, when Shouto mentioned his family. The cheerful, bemusing professor replaced by a no-nonsense professional.

Dr. Midoriya cuts away what’s left of his sleeve, examining the wound closely. All the while giving directions to the paramedics and talking Shouto through a shot of painkillers and the start of an IV. Shouto and Kou are ushered into the ambulance, Dr. Midoriya and another paramedic climbing in after them. In a moment they are on the move.

“The burn needs to be cleaned in a more sterile environment,” Dr. Midoriya says, though Shouto isn’t sure if he’s saying this for his benefit or Kou’s. Shouto is no stranger to the care of significant burns. Kou however is watching both of them with a nervous, teary-eyed expression from where she’s sat on the paramedic’s lap. “The painkillers should kick in soon, which will help. And the IV will help with dehydration.”

Dr. Midoriya pulls out his cell phone, still in a bright All Might case, immediately tapping away at something on the screen. “You were on the scene with a sidekick from your agency, right? Sunspot, the UV hero?”

Shouto blinks in surprise a few times before he remembers the professor’s notebooks. He nods. “How many pages of notes do you have on her?”

Dr. Midoriya gives him an incredulous look, but Shouto doesn’t know what the big deal is. With the heavy-duty pain killers they gave him, he really doesn’t know what the rush is, or the harm in a few questions.

“Just one. Well, one and a half.” Dr. Midoriya finally answers, going back to typing rapidly on his phone. “She’s still new, I haven’t had time to observe her fighting enough to gather more information.”

Shouto will one hundred percent blame it on the drugs later, but a laugh bubbles out of him despite everything at the professor’s petulant tone. “You are something else, Dr. Midoriya.” Shouto starts to sit up, but Dr. Midoriya stops him with a firm, but gentle, hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. He gestures to himself instead, with his uninjured arm. “How did you even know how to do all this? I thought the doctor in your name was for a Ph.D., not M.D.”

The paramedic chuckles from the corner of the ambulance. “He didn’t mention? It’s both. His quirk research is not limited to just academia and theory.”

“What?”

“None of us have been able to figure out how he did it either, don’t worry.” The paramedic adds cheerfully.

Dr. Midoriya stumbles over his words for a few moments, carefully avoiding Shouto’s surprised look, before he settles on scolding the paramedic for “distracting the patient” and changes the subject.

Shouto lets it drop for now, exhaustion from the fight and the injury finally settling in, but one way or another before this damn “Hero Talks” series was over, he was getting some answers out of this professor.

[ellstersmash]

anybody's hands

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Theo West Rating: M (sexual content, language, smoking) Words: 2,740 [read on Ao3]

theo drops by the bar for a drink and gets an offer she can't refuse; mason just gets an eyeful. set in book 1 after the whole supernatural reveal

-

< Answer your phone >

< Where the hell are you >

< guess. >

< No >

< aw. thought you liked to play? >

< Don't make me track you down >

< or what? gonna punish me? 😏 >

…

…

< The thought has crossed my mind >

< i did cut out early today. thats pretty naughty.. >

< i guess >

< considering the circumstances >

...

< Can't spank you if I don't know where you are >

< 🍒 >

...

< DONT FUCKING LEAVE >

“Buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” Theo doesn't even look up from her phone until after she's agreed.

Her benefactor is perched on the next bar stool over, one boot propped up on the footrest, stuck by the rubber sole, the other planted on the floor. Large hands folded in his lap, and he is undeniably attractive. Tall and clean-shaven and fit in a half-assed way that leaves him soft around the edges. His deep brown eyes scan her features with an approving simmer, and his curly black hair is a little longer than last time. She mentions it, says she likes it and he smiles.

“I'm surprised you remember me,” he says, and it probably wasn't meant to be offensive, but it smarts regardless—as much as the opinion of a stranger ever can.

“Why's that?” Theo tilts her head and peers up at him through her lashes. “You don't think you made an impression?”

“I hope this means I did.”

Emmett! That was his name. A napkin appears on the counter in front of her, then a beer, and Theo snatches it up for a sip.

He props one elbow on the counter to get a couple inches closer, and the faint aroma of his cologne reaches her. It's good shit. Heady and cool, musky and a little sweet. She wants to bury her nose in his chest and fill up her senses, and that's probably the idea.

“You look great, Theo. I mean, really great.”

“It’s the badge. Makes me irresistible.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

She purses her lips in a demure sort of thank you. “So how are things?”

Things are great, because of course they are. Not many men will say otherwise, afraid that emotional vulnerability will hurt their chances. It won't—at least, not with her. She doesn't give a shit about the things or how they are.

There are exactly two variables that matter to her in moments like this, when she wants like this. Likely and hopefully, the same two on his mind: do you want to fuck and are you close enough to sober? A no to either of the above renders this conversation pointless. She will finish her free drink and he'll take the next opportunity to rejoin his friends by the pool table. They won't exchange numbers or emails or whatever people do these days. He will go home to the city and she will stay here and their existences in each other’s lives will be reduced to an "oh, nothing really, what did you do this weekend?" in the break room at work on Monday, and the next time their paths happen to cross, if they ever do again, they won't remember how things were this time. They'll ask the same two questions, and hope the ayes have it.

But if she recalls correctly—now that she's doubting she is—he'd been a little uncomfortable with her direct approach the last time. So as Emmett—

No, wait. Elliot? Everett? Whatever, it’s too late to ask for a reminder now.

—tells her about the camping trip he and “the guys” are about to go on, she runs her finger around the rim of her glass. Nods at the usual moments and asks a few questions to keep him talking.

Theo has more than half a mind to steer the conversation elsewhere. Keep it light, wait until Mason shows up, find out if he's finally ready to make good on all those threats of his. The thought ignites a thrill of heat in her core that skitters out to the tips of her fingers and toes, and sends her imagination spiraling.

Much to her dismay, she doesn’t get to stay distracted for long. Emmett or Elliot or Everett asks about her things right back, and though she's tempted to wave him off and get to the good part, she indulges his probing. Work is good, just got a promotion! Yeah, to detective. Yeah, I'm on the murder case. Yeah, it's totally wild. No, no family worth mentioning but our station cats are thriving.

Some people prefer to ease in, and that's ok.

“So,” he finally says. Clears his throat and stalls a while, and Theo knows what comes next. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” She sips. “You?”

“Not really.”

She instinctively squints at the wording, but doesn't ask for specifics. That's not her boundary to keep. “Lucky me.”

He blinks, flattered and flustered. “I forgot you were such a charmer.”

“What? How could you forget my, like”—Theo holds her fingers up in sequence—“fourth best quality?”

“I must have been distracted by your first three.”

“Oh, and I'm the charmer?”

A tentative brush of his fingers on her chin, bolder along her jaw, then he tucks her hair behind her ear. “I was inspired.” His focus drops to her lips, and the warmth returns, building and solid and he's right here in front of her.

“Just so we understand one another,” she says, though considering the way he’s already undressing her with his eyes, the warning she's about to give feels superfluous. “I'm not up for a date or anything.”

His relief is palpable. “Likewise. Just looking to blow off some steam, if you’re up for it. Are you busy tonight?”

“Hoping to be.”

His place? Hers?

No, she shouldn't leave. Mason will be here eventually and he's only trying to do his job. She made it difficult enough by leaving work early. Besides, she can't go with this guy and she can't take him home, not with all that's going on. Can't put him in that kind of danger for a one night stand. Not to mention the fact that her vampire coworkers-slash-babysitters are waiting at her apartment, which would require a tricky explanation.

The sobering thought almost kills her arousal. Almost. She scoots off her stool and slams the rest of her beer, then leans back against the bar.

“I, uh, have plans later,” she says. “But I happen to be free right this second. How do you feel about public restrooms?”

His brown eyes go black as they flick between her and the red-lit sign.

Theo places one hand on his knee to lean in toward his ear. “Ladies’, two minutes.” She bites her lip and smiles to close the deal, then saunters away.

-

It's the furthest thing from romantic: held up against a bathroom wall she hopes to god is sort of clean, her shirt rucked up to her tits, his jeans hanging off his ass, her own crumpled on the floor and her panties shoved to one side so he can fuck her. But goddamn, she needed this.

To his credit, he started slow. Kissed her good and proper and slid his hand down her pants before they got this far, but she didn't need all that. Didn’t want it. Didn’t have time to wait for it.

Theo bites not-too-gently into the tense muscle of his shoulder, eliciting a soft grunt and a curse, then yanks at the sleeve of his T-shirt to bare his skin. She scrapes her teeth up to his neck and kisses him hard and he groans and thrusts harder, faster, inching her ever closer to the high she's been craving all day.

“Oh. Oh god," she gasps out. "I'm so close, don't stop.”

But he does, and so does she, as a harsh knock sounds at the door—a split second before it swings wide open.

“Detective, you in h—”

Mason slows to a stop and freezes as he takes in the scene, then his features settle into a sly smirk. The soft ka-chunk of the door closing behind him is the only sound in the room.

“Yo, buddy. You mind?” Evan or Ellis or whatever his name is glances over his shoulder, shifting his grip on Theo’s thigh.

She flinches at the movement. He is still buried inside her and she is far too preoccupied with dangling on the precipice of her climax to laugh or be embarrassed or say anything at all.

Mason doesn’t answer him yet, only holds her gaze. From anyone else, she’d expect admonishment. Disappointment. A healthy dose of shame. From him, maybe a derisive scoff. But his expression is darkened with something different, and as he wets his lips a fresh wave of heat coils in her belly. Her heart pounds in her chest.

She has forgotten how to breathe.

“Nah,” he finally says. “Not at all.”

His voice is low and rough, hot coals that turn to silk on her skin and velvet in her ears and send a shiver straight down her spine. It is all Theo can do to keep from tumbling over the edge.

Then, with a wicked grin, he leaves.

“Wow, shit.” Another adjustment makes Theo hiss, but at least Edward—

Sure, let's go with that.

—doesn't pull out. “I am so sorry, I thought you locked it.”

She ignores both the apology and the accusation and rolls her pelvis, trying to hit that sweet spot. Doesn't need much more, just—

His hips obediently stutter back to life, then back into rhythm, and Theo squeezes her eyes shut. Sees freckle-painted skin and long dark hair and eyes like summer thunder; she shatters. Wrangles the sound of it into harsh broken breaths that feel less like release and more like suffocation, then shudders and winces as he fucks her straight through it until he comes with a muffled groan.

They part from one another like they were never anything else, clean up and dress, and he examines the hickey forming on his neck with a measure of discomfort. He leaves a kiss on her cheek but doesn't linger, and she doesn't encourage the idea. She doesn't give him her number. He doesn't ask what she's up to next weekend.

She doesn't even remember his name.

After he's gone, she stares at herself in the mirror for a minute. Runs her fingers through her hair to untangle it, parts it on one side, then the other, then gives up and pulls it back into a ponytail. Washes her hands and rinses her mouth and wipes away the smudges of mascara that have settled where they shouldn’t.

Knock, knock.

“You coming?”

Theo gives herself one last look-over before she yanks the door open. Mason is leaning up against the wall outside the bathroom, thumbs hooked in his pockets and long limbs surprisingly relaxed. Gray gleams almost silver as he appraises her altered appearance.

“Again?” he adds, with a smile so smug she wants to smack him.

Stupid vampires and their stupid goddamn supersenses.

It irks her not to have any ammo. He may not be in any position to judge her, but being the brunt of his joke doesn’t suit her much better. She should laugh and let it go—he’ll move on in ten minutes and it doesn’t matter what he thinks, if he thinks of her at all, but somehow that doesn’t help. The best she can do is a halfhearted roll of her eyes before she walks away.

A quick pit-stop at the bar to grab her jacket and pay her tab for the one beer that wasn't free, then she shoves out the door, Mason on her heels.

He rubs his hands together like some mountain climber stranded above the snowline and shivers so violently she can hear it in his voice. “Tell me you weren’t stupid enough to walk here.”

Theo flicks up her middle finger before veering around the corner toward her car.

“You're in a surprisingly bad mood, considering you just got off,” he says as they get in.

“And you're in a surprisingly good one, considering you didn't.”

All his attention falls heavy on her.

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s only part of the fun.” As he leans over the center console, the alluring scent of smoke and sandalwood has her breathing in too deep. It leaves her lightheaded. Dizzy. “And I can’t say I don't enjoy helping you get where you need to go.”

Fire rises to Theo’s cheeks and for the second time in the past five minutes, her mouth flounders around impossible words. Mason shifts even closer with an expression she might call dreamy if it were plastered on literally anyone else’s face.

“So she does blush. This night gets better and better.”

The taunting does it. She snaps back into focus. “Who says you had anything to do with it?”

It’s not a response, not really. That curve of his lips, that look that’s way too goddamn sure. It hangs in the air between them, turns it liquid; she can’t fill her lungs, can’t quit staring at his mouth and shit he's so close. Three inches, give or take. A stretch of her neck, a tilt of her head, a tip of her chin and she could taste what she’s been missing and shut him up at the same time. A real win-win-win.

But one reckless semi-public fuck is probably enough for tonight.

So she shrinks away. Lets out a long breath and starts her car. “Fuck you,” she whispers, but can’t muster up enough bite to give it teeth.

“That a threat or a promise?” Mason backs off at her glare, fades, palms-out, to his own side of the car and rubs his wrinkled jeans back into place. He taps a cigarette free, then scowls and puts it back when she makes a fuss.

Her apartment building isn’t far. Nothing is far from anything around here. But instead of stalking up to the entryway door like she expects, Mason leans against the car and pulls his cigarettes out again, arching an eyebrow at her as if daring her to object.

Theo shrugs and stands upwind.

One between his lips and she finds it doesn't make them any less alluring. Then a smooth click, a spark, a steady flame, and a stream of smoke that puffs out harsh, curls at the edges, wisps out into nonexistence.

“I think you can make it the rest of the way without me,” he grumbles and gestures to the building’s well-lit entrance.

“Can I ask you something?”

The weary stare he gives her could mean anything, but it’s not a hard no.

“You’ve been at this casual sex thing for…?” Theo squints at him, giving him a chance to fill in the blank.

“A while.”

“Longer than me, I assume.”

He snorts at that. “Is there a point on its way, or are we just measuring dicks here?”

“As fun as that sounds, I think I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.”

Mason smirks, but doesn’t speak.

“I’m just wondering… does it get old? Like, sure, it's exciting, and relationships are—” She searches for a word to describe the specific mixture of irritation, disgust, and disappointment the concept holds for her, but she settles for making a nebulously unpleasant face. It seems to get the point across. “All that prowling and signaling and flirting, though? And the small talk! God, the small talk.”

“I tend to avoid that last part, yeah. But the rest of it?” Mason pauses, inhales sharp and lets it out slow. He turns to her at the end of it, smoke still drifting from his lips. He ashes his cigarette and studies her face like she already has the answer.

“Nope.”

“Hm. Guess yours is bigger after all.”

One last drag, then he drops the butt onto the asphalt and grinds it out. “You don’t have to guess, sweetheart. I’ll show you anytime you want.”

Theo pushes off the car with a huff of laughter and heads toward the door.

“Just saying,” he calls out, lifting his arms up with a grin to match hers. “If you're unsatisfied, maybe you need a better partner.”

She turns around, but keeps walking backward, catching his eye through a hazy white cloud. “I'll keep that in mind. Want me to prop the door open for you?”

Mason shakes his head, already digging in his jacket pocket, and Theo shuts the question out with him.

[et-lesailes]

spreading the sugar | pt 2

PART ONE

pairing: sugar daddy!andy & ransom (twins) x reader

word count: 1545

summary: having andy barber as a sugar daddy has been nothing but a good time. little do you know that meeting his twin brother will change everything.

themes: age gap, smut

taglist: @evanstush​, @tanyam93​, @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​, @patzammit​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain​, @sammyslonglostshoe​, @jadedhillon​, @bohemian-barbie​, @whysparker​, @sebastian-i-stan​, @sebabestianstan101​, @lille-kattunge​, @teller258316​, @peach-acid​, @allsortsofinterests​, @xoxabs88xox​, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @bookish-shristi​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​,  @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​,  @denisemarieangelina​,  @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​, @savemesteeb​​, @raveviolet​​, @hurricanerinwrites​​, @captainamerica-is-bae​​, @shaddixlife​​, @tessa-bl​​, @marvelouspottering​​, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc​​, @thegetawaywriter​​, @dwights-new-plague​​, @rynabarnesrogers​​, @fckdeusername​​,  @doloreschanal​​, @ssworldofsw​​, @la-cey​, @buckybarnesplumwhore​ 

notes: sorry it’s a day late! please feel free to give some feedback :) graphic creds to @thewritingdoll​ !

It’s your naughty self that makes Ransom’s plan go along much more smoothly. For the next couple days, he has the surveillance pulled up on his television, bored out of his mind simply watching his brother sit at his desk doing paperwork and making phone calls whenever he’s in the office. Most of the time, no one’s there at all, considering Andy is often in court or at other appointments. 

And then three days later, he finally hits the jackpot.

You walk into Andy’s office, dressed in a stylish and form fitting Michael Kors peacoat paired with knee high black socks with lace on the hems, an innocent smile on your face. It’s the middle of the day, and this is probably your boldest move yet, but you’re too excited. He’s been working on a serious case for the past few days, and you’ve barely gotten to spend much time with him. You know he’ll want this just as much as you.

“Y/N?” He looks up in surprise, quickly standing up and going over to the door to close it. “Ya gotta be careful coming here so early, honey, there’s still a lot of people around…”

“So? Just tell them I’m a college student, asking for an internship.” You watch as he peers out the glass window before drawing the blinds so no one can look in. “Fair enough, but still. If Laurie finds out about this, it just… it’s going to be a whole lot of drama, especially if Jacob gets involved. Plus I don’t want you getting any shit for it.” You sigh in amusement, suddenly taking hold of his tie and pulling him closer to  you. “You’ve been so stressed out these days, Daddy. Can I please just help you… relax a little?” you whisper, moving your hands to the buttons of your coat and slowly undoing them. He blinks in surprise, now a bit distracted from his previous concerns as he stares at the lacy little piece you’re wearing underneath, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Is that a yes?” you tease, taking the coat off entirely and draping it over the nearest chair. He scoffs and pulls you closer to him, immediately kissing you roughly as his hands explore every inch of the thin material, a low groan sounding from his throat. “That’s a fuck yes, baby doll, but we need to hurry. I have a meeting in half an hour.”

Miles away in his lavish home, Ransom checks in on the app on his phone. His eyes immediately light up wickedly upon the view displayed on the screen. He whistles lowly as he leans back in his leather armchair, watching you bend over Andy’s desk with your butt wiggling proudly for him, your hand reaching back to move the bottoms out of the way so he can fuck you from behind.

He watches every movement, whether it be your hips slammed forward from the force or your head tilting back as Andy pulls your hair. His hand moves to wrap around your neck, making Ransom laugh slightly, even impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he mumbles, watching as the action makes you whimper in pleasure, even coughing slightly. He allows himself to take in every single part of your scantily clad body, already thinking of everything he’s going to do to it. How it’s going to feel squirming under his powerful hands when you cum for him. How you’ll be screaming his name so loud, the entire neighborhood will hear it. 

He barely even realizes he’s been palming his crotch, his eyes hungrily glued to you. Unbuckling his expensive belt and pushing down his jeans and briefs, he wraps his fingers around his shaft and starts pumping, groaning to himself as he envisions his cock balls deep inside you, his breaths heavy from arousal and need. His hand may have to suffice for now, but soon, he knows it’s going to be your tight body he’s fucking nice and hard until you’re sore. 

Meanwhile, you’re catching your breath as you straighten up again, adjusting your lingerie. Andy smirks breathlessly as he pulls his pants back up, running his fingers through his brown hair. “Fuck. Wish I could just keep you in the office, honey.” He turns you around to face him and kisses you slowly but intensely. You practically feel giddy as you kiss him back; you love pleasing him. “Mm. It’s okay, Daddy, we have way more fun at home.” You point out playfully, and he chuckles lowly before reaching over and picking up the coat. Putting it over your shoulders and buttoning it up as if you were a child, he leans in and pecks your cheek. “Go ahead home, baby girl. I’ll still be here for a while, but why don’t I pick you up and take you out for dinner later, hm? Wherever you want to go.”

“Okay.” You agree with a cute smile, picking up your bag. “See ya later, babe.” You smooth out your hair and walk out of the room, smiling nonchalantly at the people who have been sitting in their cubicles on the other side of the closed blinds. You look completely normal and professional with your expensive coat, it’s as if you really were there inquiring about an internship. 

Little do you know that all of these people could easily find out that that’s not what you were there for at all. 

It’s safe to say that Andy’s in a horrible mood, and for good reason.

After waking up to a very disturbing email from his own brother, he immediately got dressed and left the house, hopping into his Audi and driving off. He didn’t even reply to any of your texts. He was and still is far too stressed, and besides, if he murders his shithole of a brother, he doesn’t want you around as a witness. 

He pulls up in the driveway, tempted to crash into that annoying, shiny BMW glistening under the morning sun. He slams the door upon getting out, storming up to the front door and pounding on the door loudly, hoping he wakes the bastard up. “Ransom! Get the fuck down here, right now!” he yells loudly, nothing but anger in his thickly Boston accented words. 

Of course, the trust fund playboy takes his time, even having the nerve to open the door with a casual yawn as he stretches his arms over his head, simply wearing a lush sherpa robe that probably cost hundreds of dollars. “Wow. You’ve never been so eager to see me before, Andy. Maybe I should blackmail you more often.” 

The assistant district attorney grabs his brother by the plush collar of his robe, fists clenched tightly as he hisses, “I’m not fucking doing this with you, Ransom. Delete that video right now, I can easily get you in trouble for planting that fucking camera in my office- you know that, right?” 

Ransom flinches in surprise for a second as his hands fly up to grab his brother’s wrists, his features slightly strained from practically being choked- and yet he still manages to chuckle darkly, teeth grit. “Would that be before or after I send that nice little video of you fucking your little sugar baby slut to Laurie and your entire workplace?” He suddenly opens his mouth in a mocking ‘o’, continuing, “Can you imagine what Jacob would feel watching this?” 

“Do not bring my fucking son into this!” Andy’s voice raises even louder as he lifts his hand, about to punch the everloving shit out of his twin, but Ransom is quick to block himself, grunting as he grabs the other’s wrist tightly. “Please, don’t waste my fucking time,” he breathes out somewhat labored, his chest heaving slightly. “Beating me up isn’t going to do shit except encourage your little aggression problem. Does Y/N know anything about that, by the way?” 

Andy pauses, staring at the other incredulously, so angry that the vein in his neck is bulging. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, using his grip to shove Ransom roughly into the door. “Why are you doing this? I know you’re a fucking asshole, but isn’t this going too far? What the hell do you have against me?”

He grunts slightly upon hitting the door but sighs amused, smoothing out his robe as he stands straight again. “Goodness gracious, Andy, you’re really overthinking this. All I want to do is fuck the little minx, and I knew you wouldn’t exactly agree to that. So…” he trails off with a shrug, smirking. “Now don’t worry, I’ll give you time to talk to her about it first- but not too long. Otherwise that video gets-”

“It has to be the three of us.”

Ransom blinks. “Excuse me?”

Andy looks at him firmly, ocean eyes still practically on fire. “I can’t trust you alone with her. No one can be trusted alone with you. So if you’re doing this, I’m there too.” 

Ransom looks at him for a few moments before slowly snickering, shrugging again with nothing but amusement in his features. 

“Whatever you say, Andy. Just try not to get too jealous when she’s screaming my name louder than yours.” 

PART THREE (FINAL)