#asshole tried speeding through the turn even tho it was my chance to go

[cetoddle-archive]

in my experience a good 70% percent of the time four way stops are just a game of chicken but little do the assholes who try and speed off when it's not their turn know but i do not care if i live or die and if i go out being a stubborn little brat then at least i go out doing what i'm best at

[kenmasgameboy]

May I ask for 61 and 2 were Iwaizumi cheated on the reader, and Oikawa knew but never told the reader even tho they were best friends. And she leaves them behind. Cause fuck cheaters. Angsty angst please!

bruh the way this shit made me FEEL WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU UGH im SAD. also i ended up writing SO MUCH for this omg. I loved this prompt a lot more than i thought i did. I think i put into it what i wish i said to my ex who cheated on me with my best friend. fuck!! cheaters!!

TW: arguments, long distance relationship, cheating and betrayal, swear words.

2. “When did you stop loving me?”

61. “You don’t smile anymore.”

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

You had known these boys for ages. Looking at Oikawa and Iwaizumi made you feel like you were home. Iwaizumi, the man that would send you into the heavens and make you feel safe beyond any amount of doubt. You don’t remember a time when you weren’t in love with him. You don’t remember a time when you weren’t with your best friends.

But recently things are different. University made everything hard and it was like a wall had been driven between you and your happiness. The first year was the hardest, you would call Iwaizumi every night or every other night in the pain of being so far away from someone you loved so much. You’d keep things under control though, you never wanted to worry him. You thought you knew him, that if you exposed how you really felt he’d march down there in an instant. But then somewhere around a month or two into this, he stopped answering. He’d still text you in the mornings, so you didn’t give it much thought and instead turned your attention to your best friend, Oikawa.

Both of them were on the other side of the world from you. Oikawa was away in Argentina, and he still made time to talk to you. Iwaizumi was all the way in California, just doing university and not a university student and a professional volleyball team like Oikawa was. He was a completely different person than you used to know.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Oikawa looked over at you after about a 5-minute long pause of silence in your conversation. You were staring at your phone. You took in a deep sigh. Iwaizumi hadn’t texted in two days.

“Nothing, I’m sure it’s nothing.” You brushed it off, trying your hardest to hide those tears that threatened to sting you and fall down.

“You can tell me, right? Is it something at school? Have you made any friends?” Oikawa asked you. Reaching his hand out and laying his head against his bicep. 

“A few.” You shrugged.

“Y/N-chan, I don’t want to sound like Iwa, but I’m worried about you. You don’t smile anymore. Have you thought about going home for a few days?” He offered as a possible solution.

“I don’t want to go home if you guys aren’t there.” You grumbled, “But I was Hajime’s thanksgiving break is coming up next month, I was thinking about surprising him since I know he’ll have a week off with nothing to do.”

“I’m offended you aren’t coming to visit me!” Oikawa whined.

“I will when you finally give yourself a break!” You teased, “Plus, honestly he hasn’t texted me in days. I know it sounds stupid, we’ve been together for years, but I feel like I need to see him. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

“I think you should. But maybe you should tell him you’re coming before you go?” Oikawa suggested. Fiddling with his hair in between his index finger and thumb. 

“No way, that takes all the fun out! You said it yourself you hadn’t seen me smile recently. This will give me a reason to smile. Once I go there and we figure everything out, I’ll have my reasons again. Just please don’t tell him! I don’t want to get his hopes up and if I suddenly can’t afford it or something then he’d be disappointed.” You begged your friend, and he solemnly nodded before needing to leave.

You kept to your plan. You got on that long flight to California, landing alone and getting a uber to your boyfriend's apartment. You were so thankful you guys swapped sharing locations before leaving, it made this so much easier. You got to the door and fixed yourself nice and pretty before pulling out your phone and recording. You wanted to keep his face of surprise forever.

You knocked on the door, but the person who was surprised was you. A woman opened the door in a towel. Your face dropping.

“Is this Iwaizumi’s apartment?” You had one last shred of hope in you, you had one last string of hope in you. Please, anything but this.

“Oh my god! Wait you’re Y/N right? Hajime and Tooru always talk about you.” She smiled widely, offering her hand to you, “I’m Jess, I’m his girlfriend. He didn’t say you were coming by.”

“Babe, who is it?” You heard the love of your life's voice coming from the shower. You stopped recording on your phone.

You couldn’t control yourself, you pushed the woman in front of you to the side before she could answer for you. You ran into his bathroom, your tear-filled eyes meeting his through the shower curtain.

“Surprise.” You said your heart being smashed to pieces on the ground as you meet his face. His eyebrows raised, his body limp. He knew he was caught.

“Y/N.. What are you doing here? No, no wait.” You tried not listening to him, you walked away. Not wanting him to see your tears fall anymore, he didn’t deserve that side of you anymore. 

“Wait, who the fuck are you?” Jess asked you on your way out the door.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.” Iwaizumi called from behind you. Following you into the street in nothing but his gym shorts.

“Stop, Hajime! I can’t even fucking look at you!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. 

“Y/N, please I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out like this–” He grabbed you by the wrist but you just ripped it away from him.

“Don’t touch me! Are you fucking serious? What did you think I would say? I knew you were distant, I didn’t know if it was the timezone or what but now I understand.” It took all the strength in you to stand and face him. Your body running on the adrenaline of the betrayal and anger that coursed through you. “You fucking asshole. 4 years for it to end like this? I loved you so much. I wanted to marry you! You couldn’t have at least broken up with me like a man when you find a new girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend– I don’t know why she told you that, babe I don’t want this to end–” Iwaizumi tried coming up with absolutely anything to say to you. The truth was he hadn’t thought about what to say at this moment. He’d replayed it in his head multiple times when he laid with other girls, at some point he convinced himself he could get away with it. That maybe he’d never have to tell you. Obviously, that dream came down in a crumbling wave of hurt and disappointment.

“Don’t you dare call me the same thing you called her. Like it even matters if you called her your girlfriend or not! It’s obviously been going on for some time. So tell me, Iwaizumi, when did you stop loving me? I need to hear it so I stop being so blind in the future.” You choked out the last bit of your words, tears fell into your mouth. You were sure you looked the ugliest you’d ever looked. It embarrassed you, but you needed to know. After this, you’d never see him again.

“I–I can’t answer that.” Iwaizumi was crying in front of you. Rubbing his eyes on the back of his wrists. “I still love you–”

“No you don’t. Iwaizumi, you feel guilty. That’s not love. I want to know how long, was she ever there when I was calling you because of how badly I missed your voice.” You refused his confession. His eyes widened, you couldn’t tell if it was the realization or the way it hurt to be rejected by you. Either way, his silence was enough to answer for you at that time.

“Did Tooru know?” You asked next to his lack of response.

“What?”

“You’re girlfriend said you and Tooru talk about me a lot. So both the closest people in my life lied to me, right? They lied to my face.” You asked him again, wanting to speed this up and get the hell out of there. He hung his head. You let out one last hiccup of pain.

“I asked him to, I told him I would tell you myself. Don’t be mad at him–” Iwaizumi begged you this time but it was too late.

“If he were a real friend of mine he should’ve told me, but he chose his side. When you stopped answering I was on the facetime with him every day. He had plenty of chances. You’re too late, Hajime. Tell Oikawa that I’m never speaking to either of you again. I’m blocking your numbers and I’m going back to Japan the next chance I can get.” You backed away, your head hanging. You didn’t know if you had any more hot tears to shed. They burned your cheeks. You hung your head down, trying to drop them onto the street instead of on your cheeks.

“Y/N... Please...” He begged weakly, his arm extending to touch your shoulder. He tried to bring you into his chest but you put your hands out to his chest. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off, he didn’t give you the comforting feeling of love and home and happiness anymore.

“No. This is the last time you’re ever seeing me.” You said it, looking into his eyes one final time. You could never do this, you felt like everything had been flushed down a clogged toilet. How would you ever move on from this?

“Where are you going?” He asked you, trailing at your heels.

“Away from you.” You spat, pulling out your phone. You were trying to look for an uber in the area.

“No, please let me take you somewhere safe, this isn’t a good neighborhood! And I know you got a C in English. Please, I’ll protect you, even if I need to follow from further away or something, I can call you someone and we can talk again tomorrow–” Iwaizumi was really trying, he pulled out his own phone and tried to look for something in his contacts list but you refused. 

“That’s coming from the person who hurt me the most. You have no place in my life anymore. Just leave me the hell alone.” You said this without looking behind you, “Goodbye, Hajime.” 

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jenna’s 5k celebration dialogue prompts!

[b1acksw4n]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒔

Pairings: Taehyung x Jimin, Jungkook x Jimin

Warnings: Drinking/ Swearing (Taehyung is an asshole)

Summary: Jimin’s staring at the red solo cup, long and hard. He’s not even sure why he’s at this rowdy college party anyways. These kinds of things aren’t his scene. A certain blue haired man is looking his way but the lighting isn’t helping and Jimin is wondering if he’s imagining things. Jimin decides he really is imagining things because there’s no way in hell that’s Kim Taehyung.

Word count:

~~~

Some things were better left unsaid.

That's what Park Jimin tells himself as he leans against the wall with a glass half empty at one of the biggest parties he thinks his best friend Hoseok has ever hosted. Some things are better left unsaid. That's what Park Jimin tells himself when he sees a azure haired boy with a haughty attitude, who just so happens to be the man who broke his heart two years ago. Jimin can't help but stare at his exes slender hands grabbing for a unknown girl's waist as they danced to the loud blaring music. Jimin's sharp eyes dance around the blue haired man's features.

His gaze bitterly landed on a expensive watch adorned on his oblivious ex boyfriends wrist. That was the watch Jimin had bought him as a birthday present. His eyes narrowed as he took a small sip of the strong intoxicating drink.

"I haven't seen you all night! You can't just stand here like this. Jimin, go out there and dance!" Hoseok is clearly hammered by the way his words are slurring together and his cheeks are tinted a deep pink. Before the younger man could refuse his offer, he was yanked onto the dance floor.

He felt his face hit the back of a much taller man and it felt strangely familiar. As the man turned around, Jimin's eyes widened in horror. The man he clumsily bumped into was none other than Kim Taehyung. Hoseok's drunk ass was going to pay for this later. Taehyung's face contorted into a expression of shock and his eyes had a glint of slyness. Some things just never change. "I never expected to see you here." Taehyung's voice was just as deep as Jimin remembered, although it felt like he was hollering at him due to the loud music and the party being in full swing. Taehyung smiles sweetly but there’s something feign in his actions. It makes Jimin feel icky, like he needs to end the conversation right then and there and pour himself another glass.

“I’ve thought about you from time to time. Thought of how I could’ve been better.” Taehyung’s eyes darken and his thick brows furrow as if he didn’t even know where he was going with this statement. Jimin hates that about Taehyung. He says things with disregard of consequences, leaving people with fake realities. He makes them think they have a chance. “I don’t have any regrets. I just hope you move on like I did. You clearly didn’t.” Jimin’s voice is compelling enough to make Taehyung step backwards in utter astonishment. It’s enough to make Taehyung pause for a moment, contemplating on what to say next.

Jimin is prideful that he received that reaction because he knows how impulsive Taehyung is. He always does things without even thinking. Taehyung’s facial expression screams fascination and amusement. Jimin’s eyes crinkle in confusion, brows stitched together. Had he been reading his body language all wrong? Was he played for a fool? “You seriously thought I wasn’t over you?” Taehyung’s tone is spiteful and his vitriolic laugh has the other feeling like his world is shrinking. “I was with you out of pity. You were overly clingy, Jimin. You’re a stray.” Jimin feels like he’s a gladiator in an ancient arena with royals laughing at his every move. Like he was born to be humiliated his entire life. The height difference doesn’t aid his negative thoughts either, making him feel smaller than he already felt.

“Fuck you! I told you all my personal problems and now you’re using it against me. I’d rather be clingy than a cheater.” His voice is shaky and hot tears are streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t know whether he’s crying out of frustration or humiliation at this point. He tightly closed his eyes not wanting to even look at Taehyung. With one swift motion and fiery anger being the main force behind it, Jimin splashed his alcohol all over the front of Taehyung’s shirt. “What the fuck?!” Taehyung’s yelling loudly but his voice is drowned out by the music. Jimin pivots on his heel, speed walking away and he has to navigate his way through all the dancing bodies and drunken students.

“I wonder where Jimin went. Didn’t he say he was coming?” Namjoon curiously looked around before talking another shot of soju. The atmosphere in the kitchen was a lot more serene than the other rooms of the house. Everyone was just talking amongst themselves and enjoying a couple drinks. “I saw Jimin with Taehyung but I didn’t want to interrupt. I have a bad feeling about this.” Seokjin sighed with a deep frown. “What? He was with Taehyung?” Jungkook pushed himself off the counter, his doe eyes blown wide. Jimin stumbled into the kitchen, teary eyed. Jungkook took careful long strides in the smaller boys direction. His intentions were pure and the pitiful and troubled glint in his eyes had Jimin sobbing even harder. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s get you out of here, Chim.” The brunette tenderly took Jimin’s hand in his. Jimin nodded compliantly as his friend led the way. Jungkook’s broad shoulders blocked his view and for the first time in a long time Jimin didn’t feel inferior about feeling small.

He desperately clutched onto Jungkook’s inked hand for comfort and trailed close behind him. Jimin tried his best to ignore all the couples making out and drunk students stumbling around and singing along to lyrics with slurred words. Jungkook pushed through the crowd, making sure Jimin was okay here and there with a few thoughtful backward glances. “What did he say to you?” His voice daunting.

“How did you..” Jimin’s response trails off into silence as he climbs into the passenger seat of Jungkooks car. “I heard that Taehyung was with you.” Jungkook sighs, disliking the way his name feels like bile on his tongue. Jimin hesitantly stared at Jungkooks calloused hands on the wheel and nervously shifted his attention to the single star in the night sky outside the window. He wonders if he’s similar to that small dot in the sky. Something destined to be lonely. Something destined to be so small and weak.

“Jimin. What did he say?” Jungkook pressed, inked knuckled turning white as he gripped onto the steering wheel. Jimin felt pressured, maybe even a little anxious. He didn’t exactly want Jungkook knowing about his deepest insecurities. “I can’t tell you.” Jimin’s breathing was labored and his shoulders visibly tensed. Jungkook’s features softened, but he didn’t verbally respond. The silence was enough of an answer. Jungkook’s stubbornness finally subsided for a moment.

Jimin knew Jungkook spoke with his fists and it wouldn’t do any good for his best friend to beat up a rich boy with a lawyer for a dad.

Jungkook led Jimin inside his house, smiling down at him. Jimin grew shy under his stare, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “I wanted to thank you for being so thoughtful tonight.” Jimin’s hand grabbed the collar of Jungkook’s jean jacket and lightly tugged, yanking the taller boy down to his height. Jungkook quirked a brow, suddenly feeling overheated in his jacket. Jimin’s plump lips placed a gentle kiss on Jungkook’s cheek and he felt his face grow red.

Jimin didn’t need to worry about what once was anymore. He needed to live in the moment, so he did just that.

~~~

thank you for reading and give me feedback if you want^^ ITS PRETTY BAD THO- I tried.

[axther]

every second i get

in which Midoriya is forced to deal with his friends trying to get him and his crush together. 

for @patt-writes-stuff

Midoriya tried not to make regrets. 

This might’ve sounded strange, maybe obvious. But he took chances when he had them. He took the leap, hurtled off edges that others might’ve been worried about because he was finally able to do what he always wanted to. He put a thousand percent into everything he did. 

But this? This was some bullshit. 

Recently, as an example of goodwill, U.A. took in several exchange students from other countries. They were all valuable and magnificent in their own right, with talents that Midoriya could only awe at. One had the ability to rewind time under a full moon. Another could breathe underwater. 

But most of all, one could read minds. 

YN LN rarely used it, but it was said that there was a villain attack back at her own school, and she defeated them by only spamming their mind with cringy, outdated Ugandan Knuckles memes. It was funny, of course, but also incredibly powerful. Some mentioned that she was in the same boat as Shinsou, but she seemed to take it much better than he did. 

Oh, and she was cute. Really cute. 

Midoriya would catch peeks of her in the hallways, waltzing to her class with her books close to her and her eyes shining in the afternoon light. She always seemed to have someone at her side, talking softly with them, or maybe laughing loudly. But she was popular, kind, and strong.

Everything that Midoriya felt he wasn’t. 

Of course, he had friends. His quirk was certainly useful, though it had it’s drawbacks. But she was gentle and sweet. Even Bakugou tolerated her and didn’t give her a nasty nickname, which was definitely new. 

So when Mina waltzed up to him with a sneaky grin, he was worried. 

“Heyyyyy, Deku!” She tittiered, leaning on him in a way that was more than friendly but less than flirting. “You like YN, right?” 

“H-huh?!” Midoriya flushed bright red, flailing his arms comically as if to fend off the accusation. “N-no! I mean, she’s really nice b-but I totally don’t have a crush on her and I don’t want-er, really need to dater her, I mean if she asked I would say yes but I don’t have a crush and it’s really not-!” “We get the idea, loverboy.” Mina cut Midoriya off before he could ramble any more, and turned him around to see Sero talking with Denki and Todoroki. “Sero’s gonna have a party tonight. And guess who’s gonna be there~?” “Y-YN?” Midoriya’s flush went down, but barely. 

“You got it! All the transfer are going to be there, and we’re going to rope her into a game of truth or dare!” Mina cheered, but Midoriya recoiled. 

“Wait! What?!” “Yeah! And you’ll get to find out if she has a crush on you!” “What?!” Midoriya leapt away from her, bright red again, and gasping. “That’s-!” “We’re fuckin tired of seeing you pine, asshole.” Bakugou bit from his seat. “Either get your shit broken or date her. I don’t give a fuck.” “Oh, don’t lie like that!” Mina chastised him and swatted at his head, making him growl in response. “He does care! It was his idea!” “Shut the fuck up!” 

Midoriya felt nervousness crawl up his spine, a chill settling in his heart. What if he got publicly rejected? Oh god! What if she said she liked him? How would he react? Would he hug her? Thank her and bow? Kiss her, even? Oh my god! Kiss her?! What kind of response is that?! 

His mind was on overdrive, thinking in all caps and screaming at the top of his proverbial lungs. All sorts of scenarios played through his head, most of which were not meant for public consumption. It was pure chaos until he realised he was being shaken by Tsuyu grabbing his shoulders. It made his head roll around until he came to. “O-oh! Tsu! Sorry!” “It’s okay, kero.” She let go, pointing at her chin. “If this is how you act now, I wanna see how you act with YN in the same room.” “S-same...room…” “Shit, it’s happening again! Someone! Stop him!” 

Midoriya was a foot away from her. 

They were sitting on the couch together, with Denki between the two of them. The room felt like it was filled with lava; bubbling, hot, and too full. Every other second was spent glancing at YN, who was preoccupied with a game of twister that Jirou and Bakugou were fully absorbed in. They were practically doing aerobatics, growling at each other in a refusal to step down. The tension was climbing until one of Jirou’s ear jacks conveniently got under Bakugou’s hand and made him slip. It was almost artistic how she still stood where he fell, but in the end, Bakugou lost, and most of the class was willing to overlook the foul. 

And then came the dreaded truth or dare. 

For whatever reason, Sero brought a bottle, but spin the bottle was quickly shut down once everyone realised they would have to tape Mineta to the upside of the ceiling. They chose to tape him anyway, which led to some confusion on what they were going to play, but it remained truth or dare. 

The first to go was Ochako, who dared Tsuyu to smack Kirishima with her tongue. She did so and almost knocked him out, but he assured her he was fine and the game went on. Late into the night, borderline dangerous dares (“Hey, Bakugou, can you explode in your mouth?”) and embarrassing truths (like the time Todoroki froze over his own underwear and used Midoriya’s All Might underwear, which Midoriya found more mortifying than Todoroki did) were traded around, until it landed on YN for the first time all night. 

“Eh, YN.” Ochako murmured past the thirteen marshmallows in her mouth. “Do you hath a cruth on nnieeone?” “Huh?” YN tilted her head, crossing her legs with a bit of sass. “Now, isn’t that a bit…?” “Nobe!” Ochako chirped, her face splitting into a grin. “Anthwer!” “Ocha…” YN extended her hand, sighing. “I, well…” “You tho! You tho!” Ochako cheered. Midoriya didn’t realise he was on the edge of his seat until he almost fell off. “Thay it!” “Well, maybe…” She pursed his lips. “I can tell you he’s in this room.” Midoriya’s heart skyrocketed. In this room!? There was only him, and Bakugou, and Todoroki, Sero, Denki, Mineta, and Shoki and Tokoyami, Aoyama, Iida, Ojirou, Kirishima, Koda, Sato… Midoriya’s hopes plummetted. It didn’t narrow it down by a lot. 

“Yeah?! Who?! Who?!” “He has...a darker palette?” YN tapped a finger to her chin, trying to dance around the question. It cancelled out Denki, Bakugou, Todoroki, Sato, Ojirou, Aoyama, Koda, and kind of Kirishima if Midoriya squinted. 

“And he’s really smart, and does really well in class.” That definitely outs Kirishima and Sero. Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Aoyama, and Shoji weren’t exceptional in class, either. So all that was left was…

Midoriya’s brain stopped. It stopped fully in its tracks. 

All it left was him. 

It was like he did a mental stutter, the couch feeling like a rock and his hands feeling far too sweaty for his liking. He wiped them on his jeans, but they seemed to be just as sweaty as before. He swallowed. He slicked back his hair a bit. His eyes wandered. Every second felt far too long. 

“That’s not enough, YN.” Mina whined, tipping back so she was laying on the floor. “You have to tell tell us!” “Nah.” She reclined into her hand with a soft smile, blinking slowly. She seemed satisfied, despite the other girl’s begging for more information. Midoriya coughed into his fist, trying to regain his sensibility before slowly rising. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna head to bed!” “Whaaaatttt?” Mina crooned, leaning forward. “Why? Not even Bakugou has gone to bed yet.” 

“Shut up!” “I’m just tired,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, trying to edge away. Before he could, though, YN rose up and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to bed, too.” She smiled, nodding her head. “We need to get sleep while we can, right?” “Ughhhhhh,” Ochako groaned, finally swallowing the marshmallows. “Fine. But it won’t be the same!” 

“That sounds like a you problem.” YN sassed before walking past Midoriya, glancing at him when she passed. It was as intimidating and romantic as eye contact could be, and made his knees grow weak. 

“R-right.” Midoriya said, though no one asked him anything. “Sure.” “Huh? Dude, are you okay?” Kirishima leans over, but Midoriya just shakes his head as he watches YN walk away. “Y-Yeah!” He juts his thumb towards the hallway, wondering how long leaving was going to take. “I’m just...gonna go.” Before anyone else could say anything, he booked it until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He was panting, but less out of the running than it was nervousness. He kept looking behind him, like he was expecting one of his classmates to come barrelling at him. He turned a second corner, only to bump directly into YN. She had been standing, waiting there for him, with a deep stare. “Hey, Izuku.” 

Midoriya jumped, nearly hopping out of his skin at her gentle, quiet tone. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were bearing into him. 

“O-Oh! YN! Hi! Hey! I mean, uh, I thought you were going to bed.” He started backing away slowly until his back hit the wall. “Yeah. But I wanted to talk to you.” YN brought her arms up and promptly slammed them on either side of Midoriya’s shoulders, effectively trapping him between her and the wall. “You’re bright red.” “R-really?!” His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere, speeding around until they landed on her. Her brow was furrowed and her nose was scrunched. 

“Yeah. Say...do you have a crush on anyone?” She leaned in, eyes glancing down onto his lips before flickering back up. 

“M-maybe!” He squeaked, desperately trying to figure out how he should respond. Everything about this was something out of a manga, not real life. 

“You know…” YN leaned in again, this time not only looking at his lips but keeping her eyes on them. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you."

Midoriya felt his face flush again, then go cold, then flush redder than before. It was a constant rapture that seized him, lifting him up higher than he could ever consider. 

“What?!” He yelped once his mind caught up with what was going on. “Shh!” She hissed, putting a finger over her lips, which looked very cute. “You don’t want the whole dorm knowing, do you?” 

“Oh…” Midoriya wasn’t sure if he did want everyone to know, but YN kabedonning him made his brain keep on stuttering like a broken record. 

“Hey…” For a second, there was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you like me? All the girls say you do, but still…” 

“Yes!” Midoriya nearly shouted, jumping and almost bonking heads with YN. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Wait, really?” YN leaned back, surprise on her face. “I thought I was going to scare you off, or something.” 

“Not at all!” Midoriya started waving his hands, a happy flush growing on his face. 

“Then...do you wanna date?” “Yeah. “ He sighed softly. His eyes were wide and his heart felt like it had soared to the moon. The moment was pure ecstasy, and he couldn’t come down from this high.

“I would love that.” 

[holylulusworld]

Deals with the devil are never easy

Summary: You make a deal with the devil – will you regret it?

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, a hint of dub-con, nakedness, smut, unprotected sex, possessive demon Dean, awkward Sam, Quorofilia / Hand Fetish 

Kinktober Special: Quorofilia / Hand Fetish

Kinktober Specials

Sequel to: Deal with the devil

“Dean, can you not let Sam out of the trunk? I agreed to stay with you.” Mumbling you glance at Dean gripping the steering wheel tighter.

His knuckles turn white and you gulp hard. “I know you don’t trust us, but I promise I’ll not risk you hurt Sam. I’ll do anything you want me to do.” Your eyes refuse to meet Dean, so you look out of the window, holding back a sob.

“Y/N…” His voice is soft for a moment. He can smell the tear escaping your eyes. “I won’t hurt Sammy as long as you keep in mind you are mine…” Large palm sliding up and down your thigh Dean licks his lips, feeling your arousal grow the longer he touches you.

“Dean, I’m sore…” You gasp as his fingers trace the outlines of your pussy. “Please…”

“Hmm…such a good girl, so polite. At the next stop I will let Sammy out for a while. He will stay handcuffed, tho but you are allowed to help him drink and eat. After that we will have a conversation about my rules for the two of you.” Dean says and you nod eagerly, relived you can get your friend out of the trunk.

“I’ll be good…”

“I know you will, Y/N.” Dipping one finger into your wetness Dean smirks seeing the goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

He’s stopping his ministrations, removing his hand to lick his fingers clean. You should be disgusted but all you can do is gasp hearing Dean’s deep rumble.

“Why do you want me? The real Dean never showed interest. I was flirting but he never reacted…” Whispering your words you glance at the demon owning you now.

“I always had a thing for you. Cute, sweet and smart Y/N, Sammy used to call you. I was close to ask you out, but you flirted with this book smart guy and I rather banged a bar shank. You saw me with her, and I saw the hurting in your eyes. Never got another chance. From this day on you kept your distance, preferred Sammy…” Dean explains leading the car toward a motel.

“I liked you, maybe even loved you. That night I wanted to…you know. I knocked and then I heard the noises and knew you found someone better. I had to protect my heart and accepted that’s just the way you are.” You shrug, not looking at Dean. “Never imagined our first time like this, thought it would be romantic and gentle.”

“I’m not the cuddly type, never was. I can go easier on your, Sweetheart. Maybe I eat you out next time.” Dean’s words are full of dirty promises and you let your mind wander to a better time.

“What now?”

“Now I’ll get Sammy out of the trunk, you will help him drink and eat before we have our conversation. Later I want to feel your legs wrapped around me…”

The dirty grin is back, and you look away, refusing to let Dean win once again. No…not Dean. The demon pretending he’s still your friend.

—-

“Let Y/N go. This was my fault, not hers. You did enough to her.” Sam cough as Dean drags him toward the room he rented for a few days.

“Shut up, Sammy. Y/N is finally mine. No book smart asshole will take her away from me once again. Now she will help you eat and drink before I make her happy again.” Dean’s eyes flash black and he pushes Sam onto a chair. “Sit and keep your mouth shut.”

You watch Dean cautious. The moment he let his guard down you will free Sam and brings as many miles between you and him as possible.

“Help him. I’m going to shower. No tricks or I’ll rip his throat out. I’m faster than you or Sam.” Dean warns the smirks still on his face.

“Can I have the water and food now. I’m pretty sure Sam is thirsty and I’m too.” Voice hard you grab the water, glaring at Dean.

While you help Sam drink and eat Dean is cursing in the showers. He can hear you whispering. Asking Sam if he’s alright, hurt or if there’s anything you can do to make him feel better.

Fist meeting the tile wall Dean yells for you, telling you stop talking to the hostage. He’s ignoring the pit in his stomach. Deep down inside, hidden underneath darkness and power Dean knows this is not the way to win you over.

—-

“That’s enough nursing. Do you need to pee?” Dean barks at his brother and you flinch. Eyes meeting Sam’s you give your friend a cracked smile before his elder brother drags him of the chair. “Pee or not. You’ve got five before you are back into the trunk.”

Jaw tense, chest heaving up and down the demon glares at Sam. Your hands start shaking seeing the tension between the brothers.

“Dean, please. You promised not to hurt Sam. Your word, you gave me your word. I know you are not my Dean, but he always kept his word, no matter what.” You choke out. “Please…”

“Fine.” Pushing Sam into the bathroom Dean opens the handcuffs. “No tricks or she will pay the price. You can sleep in the bathtub. Y/N bring a pillow and the spare pillow.” You want to protest but everything is better than the thought of Sam being trapped in the trunk once again.

—-

Back resting against the headboard, only wearing his boxers Dean watches you stripping your clothes off as he asked you to do. He’s smirking, licking his lips as you drop your clothes to the floor.

“Come here, Baby Girl. I wanna touch you.” Dean watches you crawling onto the bed. Hesitating for a moment you look at the anti-possession tattoo at his chest. “Waste of time and money. Never thought you would turn into a demon…”

Dean ignores your words, grabbing your waist he forces to straddle his lap. Your hands grab his shoulders to steady your body. For a long time, Dean drinks, you in. His eyes roam your body. The little freckles on your tummy, the tattoo of a bird on your hip…the swell of your breasts.

When his hands reach out for you a gasp escapes your lips. Rough hands touch your skin gently. Simply exploring every curve of your form Dean moans at the feeling of your breasts in his hand.

“You’re beautiful and all mine. Look at this body. Can’t understand Sammy never tried to bend you over his bed and take you hard.” Dean growls and you wake from your trance.

“Sam is not like this, we are friends. He doesn’t see me as an object he can use, own and toss away the moment he gets bored.” Your words make Dean angry. Jaw tense he flips you over, burying his face into the crook of your neck, hand snaking between your thighs he nips at your skin.

“I always wanted you to be my girl. I take what I want. I know you want me too, Baby. Just give in and no one gets hurt.” Dean’s words cause you to shudder underneath him. “That’s the problem. You don’t try to seduce me, you are threatening my friend to make me obey…” Your voice is thin as Dean slip two fingers into you, causing your hips to jerk toward his digits.

“Gonna make you feel good, Baby. Want you to feel good with me. Only I can have you this way. I won’t hurt Sam…” Lips claiming yours Dean rips your panties apart as you move your hands to his boxers, freeing his aching cock.

“Dean…”

“I know, Y/N. Just give in…” Moaning against your lips Dean ruts against you. His cock nudges your entrance, but he waits, looking down at you. Hands pining yours down he let his lips wander along your collarbone down to your nipples.

Tongue teasing your hardening buds Dean slowly sinks into you, groaning against your plush flesh as he bottoms out. “You are so good for me, feels so good. Touch me, Baby, please. I want to feel your hands on me.” Dean’s hands let go of yours, allowing you to touch his body.

The first gently touch makes him moan, crashing his hips into yours. His eyes are dark with lust and you slide your fingers over his arms. Now Dean is hissing, feeling his cock twitch every time you touch his skin.

Your eyes meet his as you move your hands over his chest, feeling his muscles flex with every hard thrust. He’s caging you with his forearms at each side of your head, giving you enough space to touch him everywhere you want to.

His rhythm never falters as he speeds up in his movement. Dean is gripping the headboard, starting to pound you with all he’s got as he can’t stand the feeling of your hands caressing his back. The wet sound of his cock entering you along with his voice moaning your name fills the room.

Featherlight touches, your fingertips exploring his flesh let him lose all control.

Your body rocks against his as your hands hold tight onto his back now, pressing noises out of the demon you never thought you would hear.

“More, touch me more.” Dean urges you on and you do. Grabbing his ass, you squeeze his cheeks and a shudder ripples through his body. Your walls start contracting around his twitching length as a strangled cry leaves the demons lips.

“Was that … good?” You ask as Dean rolls off you, not looking at you for a moment. “I like your hands. Always wanted you to touch me with these fingers.”

“Hands…I see…”

“Next time touch my cock. I want these tender hands touching me there too. You’ll do as I say.” Dean mutters now seeing your soft eyes watching him.

“Why do you always have to destroy an intimate moment? I liked touching you Dean. No need to force me.” You whisper turning around to face the wall instead of the demon.

“You’re mine…I…”

“Did you have enough? Can I sleep now, or do you need to get off once again, Dean?”

—-

You wake to an odd noise. Laughter? Blinking your eyes open you can see Sam handcuffed to a chair as Dean crawls onto the bed toward you, dragging the blanket away before his face is buried between your breasts.

“She’s mine, Sammy. I’ll show you Y/N wants me…she wants to touch me.” Dean mutters nipping at your collarbone.

Your fingers slide though his longer hair and the demon looks up at you with emerald eyes, not moving for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling.

“Dean…”

“Hmmm…”

“Can we not do this in front of Sam? You may not feel ashamed, by I do…” You whisper and Dean nods, sucking a hickey above your left breast.

“Later…”

You nod, watching Sam sliding one hand out of the handcuffs. He looks at you, silently telling you distract Dean, so you move your hands to his back, gently stroking his skin.

Dean closes his eyes, moaning once again. He doesn’t hear Sam getting up and he doesn’t see him hitting his skull before it’s too late.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…” Sam whispers before he handcuffs his demonic brother.

—-

“Where is she? I need to apologize Sammy. God, all the things I made her do. I forced her to suck me off. I had her in front of you and Cole. I’m a monster.” Dean curses smashing the chair against the wall in the dungeon. “She’ll hate me…”

“Dean, you should talk to Y/N. She’s still your friend and maybe, she’ll forgive you.” Sam whispers trying to get the memories of you bend over the car out of his head.

“She hates me for sure…”

—-

“Can we talk?” Dean asks standing in the doorframe of your room. His eyes focused on your hands he tries to not feel aroused and fails epically. Lower lip trapped between his teeth he gasp as you get up moving your hands over your arms.

“This wasn’t a demon thing? You are into my hands, Dean?” Your voice is soft, just like your eyes when you approach him. “Do you want me to touch you again?”

“You must hate me…” Dean chokes out. “I did horrible things to you. I took you in front of Sammy. I can see the disgust all over my brothers face…”

“That was not one of my best moments in life. I mean the sex was good, hot even but I’m not into having an audience while the love of my life takes me hard.” You shrug and Dean gasps feeling your fingers slide over his chest.

“I…”

“We need to talk about a few things. Apologize to Sam but I’m tired and would like to sleep a bit right now. You can stay and I’ll touch you some more.” Dean’s eyes meet yours before his lips claim yours.

“Love you so much, Y/N.” Dean moans against you, tugging at your clothing. “Can’t let you sleep. Touch me, Baby Girl. Please…”

“Only if you promise to not turn into a demon again. That guy was an exhibitionist and pervert…but good in bed…”

“I’m good too, let me show you…” Dean growls pushing you onto the bed.

“Let’s christen the bunker…”

—-

Screams catch Sam’s attention and he runs toward your room, kicking the door open, gun aimed only to see his brother plunging into you, growling as you grab his shoulders tightly.

“Give me a break here!” Sam yells awkwardly covering his eyes. “Can you not do this in front of me all the time?”

“Get used to it. She’s all mine. We have a new deal…”

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Kinktober Specials Tags

@werewolfbanshee-love​

[blakescoven]

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31​

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

//

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

//

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

//

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee​ 

[flavourlessfiction]

Ice Melts When Heated - Chapter 2

Relationships: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Skating, figure skating, Rivals, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies is a slight overstatement tho, Banter, Time Skips, Rating May Change

Ao3: x

“You’re tripping on your twizzles in the step sequence, it’s going to sacrifice a level or perhaps even two.” Tim didn’t know why he was bothering to offer advice, but standing there, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle he couldn’t resist trying to say something. “If you can keep a strong edge on the rotations, hoping out of them with a half split jump or just anything that is under a half turn will work with your music to cover the issue and save the level defending on the technical panel.”

It was advice that Dick had given him before, in truth he’d been less experienced and didn’t have fantastic control of his limbs after a growth spurt at thirteen. He’d wanted and appreciated the advice, he hoped Damian would at least take it on board even if he didn’t say anything. It was useless to hope that Damian would be anything less than rude, however. “I don’t need help from a fairy like you.”

Fairy. A nicer word than what could have been said but it still had the same effect. He didn’t even know how he had learnt so many dated slurs. “It’s just some advice, if Dick gave it to you, you’d listen.” He wanted to snap at the other but it was better to just rise above it, to avoid getting mad and starting unnecessary bullshit.

He was better off getting back to practice, to working on his axel combination. If he wanted the 3A4T by the beginning of next season he couldn’t wait until the season slowed down. He was the national champion now, that meant he had more to prove. That his season would continue on the up and up rather than giving naysayers the opportunity to say he was victorious because Jason wasn’t at nationals. “You are a threat! My competition! Father should have thrown you out the moment you got caught fornicating with that guy in the changing room.”

Where had he gotten that from? It wasn’t sex, it had been just a kiss, with a friend from his old school. It had barely been a kiss and it wouldn’t have grown into anything more because they’d just been joking around. Tim opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly, rise above… he needed to just focus on himself rather than letting Damian constantly get under his skin. For someone that was in a sport that had plenty of queer people, Damian certainly had an old fashioned attitude.

Leaning over the barrier he put his water bottle on the ground, not even sparing a glance at Damian. He had better things to do than have an argument over the fact that Damian was an asshole to him almost constantly. He really could make a list of all the horrible things that had come out of Damian’s mouth  about him but it would already fill up a notebook or three and he’d only been around for eighteen months.

He just needed to focus on his skating, interpersonal relationships weren’t as important, especially not during this part of the season. They might not be direct opponents but Damian was merely trying to get into his head. Dick would pull him into line if it got too out of hand, he’d promised him as much.

All Tim needed to do right now was skate and come off the ice not wanting to throw it all away. If Bruce wanted to meet with him for a talk he needed to go in there with his head screwed on right, if he didn’t then the moment Bruce gave him whatever bad news he had in store for him, well, he’d be less inclined to try and argue with Bruce.

Stepping onto the left forward outside edge didn’t quite feel right, it was too shallow but before he even had the chance to reconsider he’d gone through with the jump. At least he was able to open his body in time to only single it, not even attempting to tack the planned jump on at the end. He’d just have to do it again, and again, and again, if needs be.

Was it healthy? No. He knew that, but the jump didn’t have to be perfect but he had to make a genuine attempt at it.

Eight, it took eight jumping passes for him to hit the rotations. Not the end of the world considering he was working up to them. The last jump wasn’t stellar, it didn’t feel natural and the turn out of the jump would cost him marks for the grade of execution but that didn’t matter right now. It could definitely get there eventually, but it would require further work. He stood there, hands on hips, looking down at the pothole he’d put in the ice. It wasn’t so sloppy normally. “Your axel looks really good but the toe loop looks like you’re fighting for the rotations.” Tim glanced up, biting his lip and nodding slowly. It was definitely a fight for the rotations. Dick was all smiles, he was always that way, especially when he was in coach/choreographer mode, it was what made him so good with the children at the rink.

“It needs more speed and a better snap down, it could be worse I know.”

“I saw you and Damian talking, are you okay?” Already changing the topic, which meant he either didn’t actually want to talk about the jumps in the first place or he was moving through topics quickly because he didn’t have a lot of time. Sparing a glance at the clock up on the wall it was definitely the latter, Bruce had wanted him once he was off the ice and they were due for a resurface in less than five minutes.

They could at least skate around for a few minutes. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, I hate him.”

“I know, you’ve said that before.”

“Can’t he play nice for just a minute or two?”

“He’s fine with me but I think think he sees you as a threat.” That was quite clear, it was no secret that he thought he was a threat. Damian regularly said it. “Do you know what B wants with you?”

Tim sighed, playing with the zipper of his jacket. “I have an idea, I’m pretty sure it’s about Four Continents.” Dick stopped first, looking about as nervous as Tim felt. Did he know something more than him?

“Do you want me to be there, I’ll make Bruce feel bad if he lets you down again.” Well he knew something, perhaps not everything, but he must have had a good enough idea.

“It’s okay. Maybe he’ll apologise about Damian trashing me after nationals.” A pipe dream. Not once had Bruce apologised or pulled Damian into line, largely because he didn’t see the worst of it, well at least what was directly said to Tim. Still, Bruce was Damian’s father, he should have at least tried to discipline him in some way shape or form regarding their issues.

Dick didn’t look impressed, the both of them sighing as the gates were opened, the warning for them to get off the ice. “Doubt it. You know how Bruce is, if he thinks it will cause drama he’ll do it in private and unless he’s forcing Damian to apologise he’d have said it when he asked for the meeting.”

“You’re not wrong.” Tim was the first to move, picking up his guards from the barrier, following Dick around the rink to where the other’s guards were. God he could see Bruce looking down at them from one of the upstairs windows, his gaze commanding him to hurry it up. “I gotta go, if I make him wait it’s only going to make him less delicate.”

Dick waved him off, Tim putting his guards on before making his way to Bruce’s office, picking up his water bottle and bag along the way. He had off ice work to do but it didn’t have to be at the rink, he easily would be able to head home and then go to the gym from there, the facilities superior in some ways, not to mention no one knew him there, if people talked about him it wasn’t based upon knowing him or rumours they’d heard, it came from superficial views, because he looked too small to be doing weights, he’d definitely heard the word twink thrown around a time or two before but there was no obviously malicious tone.

Bruce had already moved back into his office by the time he got upstairs, knocking on the wall by the door frame. “Tim, take a seat.” Bruce sounded detached, in truth he always did but the pit in his stomach screamed that it was bad news, that he wasn’t going to like anything about this.

“Is this about what happened after nationals?” He should have asked Dick to come up here with him, at least then he’d have someone to tell Bruce he was wrong if something crazy came out of his coach’s mouth.

“No, that’s of no consequence.” That was rich, the quote had been discussed at length, it had added fuel to the flames that was Tim being undeserving of victory, Damian didn’t even compete for USFSA but it didn’t stop him from having opinions. “I’m going to get to the point, there’s no use in wasting time, you’ve got a lot to do before getting on the flight. I on the other hand will not be travelling with you.”

“Are you coming a day late?” Not the end of the world, mistakes were made and there had been a lot going on lately.

“No, I will not be travelling to Shanghai, period, this week.” That was a problem.

He in no way saw that one coming. “What?” Tim sat back in the chair, trying to shrink into the furniture.

“Damian, will be competing at the Bavarian Open and he needs his coach with him.” Bruce stated matter of factly.

“But… wait, what, you’re going to another competition?”

“I have more than one student Tim, you aren’t my only priority.”

He’d heard that phrase before, the last time Bruce sent him to a competition by himself, a competition he should have had at least a thirty-point spread on his opponents, he’d won by just a few points but it hadn’t been pretty. “Exactly, you have more than one student.” He was always going to choose Damian, Ra’s had told him as much when he’d tried to convince him to move.

“Tim, I wouldn’t be sending you there alone if I didn’t think you were able to win it without me.” Bullshit. There was no way Bruce thought he could win this without him.

“Alone?” He felt sick, but he needed answers, needed to at least have Bruce hear his opinions, whether he listened or not. “You can’t send me there without anyone.”

“You’ll have a federation representative as a caretaker, however, I don’t believe Dick has a visa for China at present if he can get one in time he can join you.” A caretaker wasn’t a coach, it was a stranger who had a knowledge of record and little else.

The idea that Dick could possibly get a visa on such short notice was absurd, they were well connected and USFSA had influence with embassies but it far too late. “I leave tomorrow night, he can’t get one that fast.” Nothing he said was going to matter. “B, I don’t think I can do this without a coach that I trust. Why can’t Dick go to Germany, he was in Europe just a few weeks ago for one of the junior girls?”

“Because Damian needs me.” Damian, it was an excuse, he didn’t need Bruce at every moment in his career, Bruce was just trying to make up for lost time.

“I need you.” He sounded so small, fighting back an obvious display of emotion, being emotional wouldn’t get through to him. Nothing would. He just had to say everything he possibly could. “Bruce, I’m drowning at the moment, listening to his constant sniping, everyone else saying I can’t win with Jason around and it’s true. I want to prove that I’m a winner, but I can’t go to a major competition without a coach.”

“If you don’t think you’re able to succeed  then you won’t be able to.” Tim lowered his eyes, his right knee bouncing, an all too obvious sign of anxiety.

“Do you care?”

“Of course, but things need to go a certain way.”

He doesn’t care.

“Certain way?”

“You’ve become far too reliant on me, you need to prove you can be successful without someone telling you exactly what to do at all times.” Too reliant… Had Alfred and Dick not recommended him to Bruce after Jason’s injury because he was obedient, because he listened to everything a coach asked of him regardless of his own thoughts?

Had that not been a positive attribute? “I… all anyone has ever told me is, that’s exactly what you liked about me, that it’s what you wanted.”

“You’re young-”

Condescension, of course. “No. It’s fine I get it, you think my time is up. It’ll be fine, I’ll do my job. Another silver in the cabinet but at least we’ll probably have a podium sweep.” He could barely focus on the movements of his body, standing, and grabbing his things. This conversation was over, Bruce had no faith in him and was preparing for the next Olympic cycle. Not on the one that had been passed up because with a wild card like Jason in the mix, they needed someone they knew to be reliable.

“Tim...” Bruce didn’t even sound like he was trying to get him to stay, just speaking because it was the thing you were supposed to do. How did people think he was the robot when Bruce didn’t possess an ounce of empathy?

“I’ll see you when I get back.” At least he didn’t choke on the words, it was the coldest he’d sounded since walking into the office. He was out of there, stopping at the exit when he realised he still had his skates on, he could dry the blades in the car but he needed the skates off his feet before he stepped outside. Tim took a knee, wasting no time at undoing the knots and ripping the first skate off his foot, switching knees before getting to work on the other one. The girl at the counter who was surely unbelievably bored wearing a sympathetic look. She might not have known why he was upset but she probably knew the struggle of wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Tim didn’t bother taking his shoes out or stuffing the skates into his bag, his car was parked not fifty feet from the door, he could carry the skates. It hadn’t rained or snowed this week despite it being late January which meant he wouldn’t have to worry about his socks being soaked through.

What was he going to do?

Travelling wasn’t easy and having no coach to guide him, to make assessments about the ice or just give a perspective that wasn’t his own was going to be a huge problem.

Everyone liked to joke he was a robot because he hid his emotions and rarely spoke up but he was still a person, who needed some sort of team behind him if he had any hope of winning.

Bruce clearly thought he had no chance of winning, which meant he’d have to prove him wrong.

----

It hurt, every muscle in his body was in pain. Impact from hitting the boards not once but three times. All of his jumps were off, every single one of them and he’d fallen five times. That meant nine deductions. Why was the crowd even bothering to clap? Why throw gifts and flowers onto the ice when he hadn’t done the bare minimum to at least stay in it?

The USFSA rep handed over his guards, no words, nothing to encourage him, to make it feel better or worse. There was his jacket, God, his hands were shaking way too much to zip it up. Everyone’s eyes were on the video screen showing the replays. He couldn’t stomach glancing up, he could watch it later on. “These things happen.” Soft words from the rep that fell on deaf ears.

These things didn’t happen.

Not to him.

Not to any of Bruce Wayne’s students.

He couldn’t even stop the tears from spilling, holding a gloved hand over his mouth as he tried to at least suppress any kind of sobbing. This was going to look bad.

Timothy Drake – USA

TES: 61.53 PCS: 75.94 Deduction: -9.00

FS: 128.47

Twelfth

Combined Total: 230.22

Fifth

Fifth with five skaters to go.

Fifth and would likely be Tenth.

First to Tenth.

In one skate.

At the same competition.

Fuck.

He’d failed.

He was meant to win this.

He couldn’t breathe.

Why didn’t Bruce listen to him?

Why couldn’t Dick get through to him?

How was he supposed to stop crying?

Fuck.

The cameras weren’t on him anymore, but there were certainly hundreds of eyes. Likely waiting to see what he did next. A few tissues were handed to him, shaky breaths coming out but little going in. This was how he cried in his car after a particularly shitty practice, when nothing went right.

This was something he knew how to deal with alone. Not in an arena with thirteen thousand fans, some of whom probably wanted to see him fail to make way for their favourites.

He ran his hands through his hair as he lowered his head, shifting his feet to make sure the blade guards were on before rising. Making his way off the kiss and cry platform and away from the rink side. There was no way he was answering questions, he just had to move past the mixed zone as quickly as he could, waving off the one reporter that tried grabbing his attention. Everyone else seemed to get the message at least. Aside from national media outlets no one wanted to speak to a tenth placed skater. Even if they crashed and burned spectacularly.

He could just see the headline now; ‘Timothy Drake Chokes At 4 Continents Championship, Is It Time For Bruce Wayne To Focus On Younger and Better Talent?’ That question probably didn’t need to be posed, Bruce was definitely focused more on Damian, this would probably confirm he was getting cast out to make way for Damian’s senior debut. Most coaches could focus on more than one student at a time but apparently not Bruce, at least not in this case.

It wasn’t until he rounded the second corner that he found the locker room, keeping his head down as he avoided the gaze of those that had chosen to get changed rather than watch the last group, not stopping until he reached a toilet stall. Flipping the lid down and sitting on it, hands working on his left boot laces first, eyes squeezed shut at he tried to calm himself down. If someone could see him they probably would think he was losing the plot blindly taking off each skate because he was trying to dull at least one sense.

Trying to stop himself from cracking even further.

He only opened his eyes at the sound of something sliding across the tiled floor, his small suitcase being pushed under the door, Tim taking the right skate off before leaning further forward and pulling the suitcase towards him. “We’ll meet tonight to discuss today, another representative can speak on your behalf, we understand you’re not comfortable with the press.” He couldn’t say that USFSA had done anything bad by him at this competition, they’d done everything right in taking care of the situation but it wasn’t the same as having a coach or just anyone that was in his ordinary support network.

“Thank you. I’ll… I will send a message when I get t-to the hotel and am cleaned up.” That sounded far better than he felt. He honestly thought no words would come out at all.

---

What are Bruce Wayne’s Priorities?

Timothy Drake Coachless in Shanghai Finishing Tenth Whilst Coaching Son Damian Wayne Who Can’t Claim Victory in Oberstdorf

Vicki Vale

When Drake took gold at the U.S. National Championships just two weeks ago many of us thought he was a shoe in to take Four Continents gold this week. However, a cloud of doubt started to hover over him when he showed up with no coaching team whatsoever. After the short program he sat rather comfortably in first, six points ahead of his fellow American and rival Jason Todd, who had missed Nationals this year due to a stomach virus.

However, upon arriving at the venue for the free program today it was obvious that there was something wrong. According to USFSA representatives there was no sign of injury or tightness the night before and they’d encountered no complaints from Drake. He’s allowed nerves to get in his way in the past but never quite to this extent.

This is a skater that Bruce Wayne has said several times in the past that he, “...can tell from [Drakes] beginning pose whether he will skate clean or stumble over mistakes...” this comes from an understanding between a coach and skater with a relationship that’s been built over an extended period of time. Today it was obvious to everyone in the six minute warm up that Drake was not mentally there, the few jumps he did in the warm up resulting in falls, poor landings or being doubled or singled, this coupled with a frosty exchange between Drake and Todd that no one appeared to catch what was said, made it apparent to many that Drake needed Wayne at this particular competition.

Despite earlier in the season missing Drake’s first competition for his son’s Junior Grand Prix event in Tallinn, the coaching relationship between Drake and B.Wayne was perceived to be business as usual, although what occurred behind the scenes is a mystery to many and underhanded comments seemingly to slight Drake from the younger Wayne to the press at different points in time now bring about the feeling that Wayne and his coaching team might not be producing the healthiest of environments for their students.

The question in particular is what was going through Bruce Wayne’s mind that prompted him to leave his star skater, who appeared to be on the cusp of a breakthrough season. For a junior, blood or not. That is struggling to show he is anything more than a particularly proficient jumper, who lacks the musicality or dance based technique that has been synonymous with Wayne’s previous skaters such as Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain, the final who is still being coached by Wayne part time.

Whilst it would be harsh to claim that the Bavarian Open at which D.Wayne competed at isn’t a competition worthy of Wayne’s time, the favouring of a junior merely trying to get additional senior competitions under his belt before Junior Worlds whilst his most senior men’s skater is being sent over to the final major competition prior to the World Championships is dumbfounding to say the least.

There is something to say in Drake being a more experienced skater and not everyone will agree that Wayne’s priorities are out of sorts, but it is of the understanding that there were options for D.Wayne to be accompanied to Oberstdorf whilst B.Wayne was the only member of his coaching team, with the proper accreditation that could attend Four Continents this week due to Grayson, choreographer and close friend of Drake, confirming that he’d attempted to fill the void left by Wayne but had visa struggles due to the exceptionally late timing of the decision for Wayne to travel to Germany.

This performance and the devastating reaction of Drake, which I for one won’t be able to shake any time soon, following his skate both in viewing the replays and receiving his scores, potentially could have been easily avoided if not for the errors in judgement and disorganization of Wayne.