#but I finally managed to piece together an approximate idea of what they went with via context clues and deductive reasoning

[niuxita21]

[drabbles-mc]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag, @passionatewrites! These games always read me for filth but I love them. 😂 If nothing else, it proves that every time I make a post or ramble in tags and my author's notes about "having a wip that..." I'm not full of shit and the wip actually does exist 😂💯

Rules: share your unpublished WIPs. No updates to ongoing fics, just new shenanigans :)

I'm doing multichaps and only a couple of my one-shots because if I did all of my one-shots this post would be way too fucking long lmao

Please feel free to send me asks about any of these! Snippets, questions, lore, whatever you want! I'm always more than happy to talk wips!

Multichaps:

They Were Roommates (Nestor x OFC, Angel x OFC): Based off a request that someone sent in literal years ago at this point but I've been trying to pull it all together ever since. Nestor starts seeing a girl who is new to town, but what he doesn't know is that her roommate is dating one of the people he dislikes most in the world: Angel Reyes

Untitled Gilly/Tasha Fic (Gilly x OFC): When life with her family in Northern Cali starts to fray at the seams and get messier than she can handle, Tasha packs a bag, gets in her car, and drives to the one person she knows will take her in no matter what: her Uncle Bishop. What was just supposed to be a couple weeks-stay to cool off suddenly becomes much more complex when she meets the men from the MC.

Bloodline OBX Crossover (Gen Fic): After finally managing to get back to the mainland from Poguelandia, JJ brings all of his friends to the only person that he has left anymore, and truly he doesn't even know if the man is still going to know who he is. Lucky for JJ and the Pogues, Danny Rayburn never forgets anyone.

Bad Ideas (Canche x OFC): Bad blood between charters and the aftermath of the shoot-out at the clubhouse means hell for the MC> None of that is really on Lia Reyes's radar when she stops by to check in on her brothers who have gone radio silent. In the midst of all the drama, the last thing she expects is to strike something up with the one person that her brother can't stand, and who can't stand her brothers. It all becomes a waiting game to see how long it takes for her last name to come into play.

Untitled The Bear Fic (Marcus x OFC, Carmy & OFC): Carmy finally broke down and started going to Al-Anon meetings, not expecting to actually get anything out of them, certainly not expecting to make his approximation of a friend. Lucky for him, Ray hasn't ever stopped herself on someone else's account. When bad luck and family troubles bring her to The Beef, she finds Carmy and a whole lot more.

Your Mess (Nacho x F!Reader): Being new to town meant that you had no idea what you were really getting yourself into when you met Nacho and extended an invitation to him. He knew, though. It wasn't long until you both realized why you should've taken the first 'no' he gave you and ran.

For Everything (Happy Lowman x OFC): Everything about the Teller family spells out bad luck, but it doesn't stop Happy from falling into bed with one of them. However, before the curse of the Teller family can catch up to them, ghosts from Happy's past rear their ugly heads first.

Brick by Brick (Opie x OFC): In the aftermath of getting out of prison and finding that his entire family had taken off while he was still behind bars, Opie tries to put the pieces of his life back together again. Despite his better judgment, he allows someone close to help with it all.

There and Back (Nestor x Erin): They only got along because proximity didn't allow otherwise when they were teenagers, but as time went on and everything in life got more complicated, their feelings did too. Both of them promised not to be the type to fall hard and fast, but Erin was the only one who kept her word no matter how many years went by.

Coming to Terms (Rafe x OFC): Despite all the fight that he put up about it, Rafe finds himself drying out and thrown into more therapy sessions than he can keep track of in some rehab center on the mainland. He was determined to fake and lie his way out until he met someone who frustratingly calls him on his shit at every possible turn.

Boxing AU (EZ x OFC): Fresh out of prison and looking for something extra to keep him from going back inside, EZ finds himself walking through the doors of one of the most old-school boxing gyms in Santo Padre. He's expecting a ring, some sparring, a coach who gives him more grief than necessary. What he doesn't expect is the woman who meets him at the door and flips his entire world upside-down.

Against All Odds (Juice x OFC): Juice knows better than to think that getting involved with Jax's younger sister is a good idea. He knows it's not. But as time goes on and tensions start to thicken, it's not enough to stop him. What he wasn't ready for, though, was realizing that their relationship was the least of their problems.

Pieces Into Place (EZ x OFC): College AU. From Stanford all the way to Harvard, EZ has been one-track minded. Always focusing on school and the next step beyond it. When someone comes in and pulls his focus from that, it's a breath of fresh air, at first. But the familiarity of it comes at a cost that EZ isn't ready to pay, and has him putting up walls before he can stop himself.

Tragic (Angel x OFC): EZ going to prison caught everyone off-guard Nothing made sense to Angel, or their childhood best friend. Both of them lost with no one else to turn to, they turn to each other in an attempt to figure it all out.

Figuring It Out (Happy & OFC): Happy showed up to the tattoo shop looking for one particular person to give him one particular tattoo. When that person wasn't there, though, he settled for the young woman who was at the shop. One smiley face later Happy realized he had no say in the matter of having her in his life from then on out.

From The Start (Opie x OFC): Falling for his best friend's little sister hadn't been part of the gameplan, but it was too late to go back on it now. The problem was, that for as good as it all sounded in his head, the reality of who he was dealing with was far harsher than Opie bargained for.

How We Got Here (Coco x OFC): Despite not knowing her his whole life, Coco couldn't remember a time before Daniela Reyes. Pain was what brought the two of them together, but it was also what drove the two of them apart. Coco clung desperately to everything that happened in between, hoping to mend those fences one panel at a time.

Untitled Juice Fic (Juice x OFC): Desperate to get out from under the thumb of the club for a night, Juice finds himself in a bar just outside of town, getting far drunker than he should. The bartender who could have and should have tossed him right out onto the street extended a little kindness instead, unknowingly creating an entire web of secrets for the two of them.

Love Triangle (Carrillo x Reader, Javi x Reader): You hadn't known Javi as long or as well as you'd known Carrillo. You certainly didn't expect that to change as things with you and Carrillo got more serious. However, as things start to disintegrate between you and the Colonel, you start to wonder if there's more to Javi offering you a shoulder to lean on.

Chaos at the Lakehouse (Gen SOA & OC's Fic): Years after everyone had grown up and moved away, the entire crew that had once called Charming its home base all decide to get together again. Everyone is grown with their own families now, and life looks different for everyone, but in a lot of ways they all pick up right where they left off.

One-Shots:

Beautiful Stranger (Bucky x Natasha): After losing Steve, and losing just about everything else, Bucky and Natasha both take off separately, desperate to start over in different corners of the world as people with a little less pain to carry around with them. However, after a lot of time and a lot of moves, they somehow end up on opposite sides of the same bar together and realize that maybe they just aren't supposed to be staying away from each other.

Lovers to Enemies (Carrillo x F!Reader): Things that seem to good to be true, usually are. If anyone was well-acquainted with that fact it was Carrillo. And yet, when you came traipsing into his life, he couldn't help but to hope that he was wrong. But. He wasn't.

Better Than That (Coco x F!Reader): In the aftermath of a messy breakup between you and Angel, you find yourself growing closer to one of the last people you expected.

Like I said before, if any of these make you go 👀 then feel more than free to send me an ask about it! I'm more than happy to gush about them all! 💖

Tagging (no pressure as per usual): @garbinge @bullet-prooflove @spaghettificationandpretzels @artemiseamoon @darqchilddaydreamz and anyone else who wants to gush about their wips! (or hold themselves accountable like yours truly lmao)

[hollyfishlockcind3510]

🏁 Almost There 🏁

We really got moving over the break. From filming pieces to camera, to interview and beginning editing, this is how our break went:

Progress

We completed interviews with two people: George Pantelopoulos and Lincoln Etherington

We interviewed George about increasing HECs and indexation, the job-ready graduates package, and student enrolment rates. George was the first expert that we have interviewed for the documentary. He provided a lot of information regarding reasons for indexation increasing HECs, and motivating for the job-ready graduates.

On the same day, we interviewed Lincoln. He has worked in construction for approximately a year, and we asked him about his experiences in trades, his perspective on uni, and whether he would consider going. He revealed a lot of insight into the reality behind trades and why he won’t continue to work in construction.

We had three intensive filming days. The first was spent filming a couple pieces to camera and the opening sequence. We used a dolly to get a moving shot of Peter and Sophie talking to the camera. We also filmed some b-roll of us walking to NuSpace with the filming equipment.

We also completed a documentary trailer and our opening sequence! I edited a short one-minute trailer for our presentation next week to give classmates and tutors an idea of what our documentary will entail. It includes cuts from interviews and voiceovers from discussions. Peter was able to compose some simple music that fit the trailer and opening sequence well. The trailer is linked below:

docotrailer.mp4

We also added a small section where we asked our parents about their experiences at university in the 80s and 90s. This will reveal much about how the university has changed over the years and put today’s HECs into perspective.

My Contribution

I contributed significantly to both the creative and technical side of the project. My roles included:

Editing the trailer

Setting up filming equipment

Setting up different shots

Storyboarding

Scriptwriting

Interviewing

Editing a draft for the first piece to camera with Peter and Sophie

Developing data visualisations

Experimenting with after effects and premiere pro

Potential Issues

This week, we had a short meeting with Alysson to discuss our progress and the best steps moving forward. We ran into a few issues at this meeting.

Since we are looking at showcasing our work at Chromatic and potentially publishing it, there is some information we are unable to include. Any work defaming the university cannot be shown, meaning that most of our interview with Hannah is unusable.

Another small issue we had was interview locations. We had a small miscommunication with George on the morning of his interview, and had to go from NuSpace to Callaghan and set up in a very short amount of time. Thankfully, we were able to find a quiet area to conduct the interview. 

Next Week

There is one week until our project needs to be finished. We will continue editing this week and will film B-roll. I think we managed our time well over the break and the first week back. We achieved almost everything we aimed to. Our main goal now is to finish shooting the B-roll before we begin our final edit. We have an interview lined up with Mark Hoffman in week 13, which is, unfortunately, after the assessment due date. But we still want to conduct this interview, as it could improve our documentary before Chromatic. Overall, we are keen to see the final product come together next week.

Holly Fishlock c3398018

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW. Todays chapter does include gore, death, killing, hunting, sickness, etc.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter five: the blood a trickster spills -

•

•

•

•

You grab onto a tree branch, grunting as you pull yourself up. It has been an hour since you've been aimlessly walking through the enchanted forest, your feet already burn in exhaustion. You managed a to find a stream, the land was smooth - perfect for a fire in the morning but right now your main priority:

Is to somehow climb this tree without breaking a leg.

You grumble incoherent words to yourself, enraged by the stubborn bark your hand could not grasp. You opted for another tree branch, pulling yourself up to a reasonably thicker branch - which you deemed was thick enough to wait the night out. Though sleep was definitely out of the question for you, a fall from this height was enough to put you out of commission and paint you dead.

You wrap your arms carefully around the trees trunk taking deep breathes in attempt to sooth your beating heart, "don't look down.. don't look down." you chant, the words stitching together like a prayer. But your eyes glance down - for only one second. One second and suddenly your breath hitches and fear burrows into your stomach. One slip and it was over. Your hands grasp hard onto the trees bark, imprinting your hand with small indents of patterns.

Your eyes grow heavy with sleep, exhausted from climbing. You mentally curse yourself for not taking advantage of the time you had in the carriage ride.

From beneath you, bushes rustle and heavy footsteps emerge.

Yet, you don't dare look down to peep what roams the dark night; growling and far away howls creep up your skin as you shiver. You were in a long night - a cold grueling night.

***

You shiver against the bark, as rain pours down from above soaking your boots and clothing. The rain clouds cover up the moon - as if the night couldn't get worse - you feel small rain drops drizzle down from the skyline. Tapping your nose and cheeks, falling hard onto the ground after a few seconds. You roll your eyes in annoyance, tightening you grip against the tree bark as the rain soaks you from head to toe. In this case you were going to get sick if you didn't dry up soon - and sickness in the kingdom was a true tragedy. Your grip is slippery, chunks of bark peels off the tree and onto the ground below. Startling the animals that roamed below - one snarls as it's hit on the head with one piece. Tightening your legs and arms you realize if you fall now, in this darkness, at this moment..

You would never see another night again.

Determined to survive you travel even further up top into the tree line, it wasn't the smartest idea, staying put in the position you were in and waiting the rain out seemed like a logical solution.

But you needed to get to the tree line.

The sky could tell exactly what time it was, where the rain was coming from, and when it would end. It was better visually, other than waiting for you to fall.

But that also was a thought, what if your foot slipped when you were trying to get further on top, surely by that height you wouldn't have to worry about getting eaten alive by creatures of the night - you'd simply die just by hitting the ground. In all actuality, you didn't wanna think about it, but each time your damned eyes just peered down you saw death. This entire forest reeked and felt like death, or was it a curse, a game? A game to see which Queen can be the most traumatized?

If so, you were pretty sure by the end of this you'd have to see the royal therapist. If there even was one in this kingdom you served.

Grunting you pull yourself up, cheering yourself on internally. You're just nearly there, one more step and the sky line would be clear!

Rain droplets splatter your face, gliding across your cheeks and drenching your hair. Just a few more branches, a few more pulls. The dark clouds peer through leaves above, and you can already see the rain clouds gathered together. You sigh in relief, the rain would stop soon, you estimated the rain would most likely stop in approximately five minutes. And the moon would shine down again. the clouds were just passing by.

You breath in the fresh air, ignoring the pelting rain.

You just simply needed to breath, tears run down your face as you stare off into the Kingdoms silhouette - staring angrily at the sky refusing to place your fate in another persons hands. Clutching onto your dagger your carve into the tree branch.

"I will not accept the fate you place me under, you scoundrel pieces of shit!" You say quietly under your breath, a promise you will get to retell to your future children when the time came.

***

Birds chirp all around you, it's officially the first day.

The beating sun scorned your skin, but the cough in your throat is enough to pull your attention away from the scorching heat. You are developing a cold.

Your throat tickles and your nose feels stopped up, your hand shoots up to cover the suns beating  rays off your face. It was early, if you had to estimate most likely seven in the morning. The sun came down behind the kingdom at exactly seven thirty, (you made sure to observe), which only meant you had had twelve hours and thirty minutes to find food, make a fire, track down a goblin, and lastly if you were lucky enough to stumble upon safe herbs to create a tea that would soothe the pending cold.

If an infection didn't kill you, it'd be a cold that would have a final say, but the cold was the least of your worries.

You had a goblin to track down, and those tricksters could kill you faster than any fever.

You slowly move down the tree, checking your surrounds.

You found yourself a loose rabbit wandering off into its borough, noting your next meal for the day was only a few feet away. Your boots crunch onto the dried leaves and wet dirt, you search for dried logs that survived the rain fall, along with rocks that you could create a pit with. You set up directly in the sun in hopes to dry out a few damp logs. In the meantime you went to the rabbits borough - it had two entrances and from what you learned from Kirishima it would attempt to escape from the back. You stealthily placed a large heavy rock at the back entrance blocking its way.

Intricately you back away, you weren't so immune to dead animals. Your father went on annual hunting trips all the time, but, this would be the first time you are hunting out of survival.

The entirety of the "game" was survival.

You check up on your logs, noticing they are now dry from the suns heat. You grab your sticks rubbing your hands up and down to create a spark - fire blazes in front of you. Normally you'd say it was to hot to start a fire, but at night you rather face the cold than a grueling hungry Ogre. Of all things you had to deal with in life at this moment, a bitch ass Ogre was not one of the problems you had the proper strength and patience to deal with.

You grab an end of a stick, lighting the other half on fire. Waving it as a torch, your meal for the day would be served.

You rush over to the borough, lightly throwing the stick into the hole before closing it off with the boulder. Running over to the other end you hold your dagger.

You felt bad for the poor thing.

But a girls got to eat.

***

You have no idea where to start.

When one thinks of a goblin one would refer to the story books that claimed they lived under bridges - shunned away from society maybe even deep into forests. But those were simply just stories, if you had to think like a goblin you'd live far away from the kingdom in fear of being killed.

Nobody prepared you for the hunt, only survival.

You decide you should move, being stuck in the same place wouldn't get you very far. The herbs you were in search for in the meantime for your throat weren't found so you inevitability gave up on the luxury of a warm leaf of tea. You cough into your arm, sniffling your nose from running. The heat rose your temperature to the point you had to stop your travels to lie down, mentally cursing yourself for wasting time.

Heaving, you look up towards the sky, noticing the sun has moved positions. Only a few hours away of setting and you have yet found a single clue where you could find a goblin. You crouch down beside a creak, cupping your hands and drinking away the water from your palms. Splashing your face with it as well to cool the rising fever you felt approaching. You only had three days and if you were gonna make it back to start on time by the third day the heart must be in your possession. Your feet ache, and your calves muscles cramp. The lower part of your back is sore and the sun is burning the sides of your feet - you were in complete misery.

Black dots appear in your line of sight, you stumble onto your feet holding back the urge to vomit what little food you had left in your system.

Your hand quietly slaps over your mouth, clamping it shut.

"Well well well... what do we have here?"

Before you can even answer your sight goes dark, and you feel your head hit the ground. It falls silent.

***

Humming.

The sound of a cackling fire.

And the warm rich scent smell of hazelnut soup.

You slowly open your eyes, "What the-" your heart rate rises in fear, where were you? Who's here? Why are you here, how are you here? You search for the dagger but are left bewildered when the sharp blade is nowhere to be found. You shuffle backwards, your hands running over the wooden floorboards - splinters penetrate your skin. But you could careless, you remember passing out from the heat - or was it from a fever? You didn't know, footsteps approach you.

"Oh well it seems like you're awake!" A females voice cheers, you scan her body, taking in her frame. She was tall, and very beautiful, her striking long brown hair and dark green eyes, a dark red gown adorned her body. Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you bark at the woman, "Who are you-"

"Now, that isn't a way to speak to a woman who saved your life your Majesty."

"How do you know who I am-"

The woman chuckles, "Well I hear everything! The forest, it speaks to me. And not to mention the witches that live here love to gossip!" You stare at her, blinking your tired eyes. It still didn't make much sense, yes technically you ruled this land as well but it's so far away. You can feel your pounding headache even worsen, "So you're a witch?" You ask, pulling your feet in.

"Ha! You think I'm one of those people! How rude. See I'm just a modern lady sitting in a cottage, I don't suppose you would know that kind of lifestyle." The woman shrugs, sipping her cup of tea.

You nod, "I'm afraid.. I don't actually." All your life you were surrounded by jewels and gold's, fed the most expensive meats and the most tasty fruits. Living a fast paced life of "don't say that." "don't touch that." "sit like this." and "who told you to speak." Speaking to Mina about eventually running away from marriage, even planning to take her too.

"Well it seems to me you are part taking in those heinous games the Dragons throw women into. What a shame, you are beautiful too."

You arch a brow in curiosity at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this isn't going to end well for you. I mean, look at you! You look like you couldn't hurt and fly, I wonder what King Bakugou must be up to? You wouldn't stand a chance against a goblin!" The woman laughs manically placing her cup of tea onto the table, she steps towards you. "I managed to survive one night alone-"

"Oh please, If I didn't take you in the wolves would've had a feast. You should be thanking me." You roll your eyes in annoyance, "Now dear," she grins, "you look parched. How about some tea."

Tea.

Your body is practically begging for a warm remedy to sooth your raw sore throat, oh.. you realized that you're actually growing sick. The headache on the sides of your temples is beating - pounding against your brain. Your vision is cloudy. How could you not of realized. You were so distracted by where you were you barley remember you couldn't find the herbs you searched for.

The lady wags an empty cup in your face.

"Come on. Your cheeks are burning red, and whether that's just a sun burn or fever I'm sure you need a sip. You're burning up a storm."

A part of you wonders her name, but was it truly important? Could she possibly show you were you could find a goblin? You look over your shoulder out of the window realizing the sun was just barley going down.

"H-How long was I out?" You shakily ask, pulling your hands into your chest.

The woman arches a brow, "You know for a Queen you surely do stutter a lot. You've been out since noon."

Lord if you didn't have strength to be patient you probably would've thrown a wooden slab at her by now, you breath in heavily through your stopped up nose; coughing in despair. Blowing out a few pieces of hair from your face. "Well, then do you want the tea or no - your royal highness?" She asks in a taunting matter.

"No. I'm fine." You huff.

"More for me then-"

"What's your name?" You interrupt, "Id love to know the name of the woman who saved me after all." You grin tilting your head to the side. The lady clears her throat, "Marigold. My name is Marigold." You nod, finally knowing her name. "Well Marigold, do you know where I can find a goblin?"

The word seems to stop Marigold in her tracks. Her face grows pale for a second before returning back to her natural nonchalant expression. Blowing a raspberry she proceeds to laugh, "Well honey, that's a days trip. They live deep into the forest. You wouldn't make it there in time."

Hmm, you nod suspiciously. Recalling the last conversation you had with Kirishima.

"What do goblins look like? I've only ever read about them." You asked, moving beside him following him into the horse stall. He combs out the mane of his horse, "Well that's a tricky question my Queen. They are real tricky and can spew lies just to get you where they want... they promise you things. You have to be real smart to not fall for it - I've encountered one in my youth. It didn't look anything like those storybooks."

Your eyes wander her body; she looked normal. But to trust her would be a stretch, one that could kill you. Her voice sound normal. You watch her closely, "Where's my stuff?" You ask. Marigold arches a brow and shrugs her shoulders; "What stuff?"

You bark, "My dagger! My holster for it! Where is it?"

"Oh those things.. why do you need them?"

"I need to leave-"

"It's dark out, you wouldn't want yourself to increase your fever now would you. I promise this tea will sooth all your pains away. Even the ones deep in your heart."

You arch a brow, narrowing your gaze. Even the ones deep in your heart. Your brush her off as a bluff, "You don't know what you're talking about." You push yourself up from the floor, stumbling from the sudden wave of nausea. Sweat beats run down your forehead as you attempt to stand up straight. Marigold clicks her tongue, her long fingers run through her long brown locks. "No. No. It seems that... I do know what I'm talking about. A Queen who's too good for her new kingdom, thrown, stuck and forced into a loveless marriage; suddenly thrown into the enchanted forest to find a heart that she will be forced to eat? Poor unfortunate girl, you were better off dead."

Her words cut deeply, anyone could figure that out though. She didn't know you, how could she possibly think she had your life figured out. You were a Princess made into a Queen; it wasn't that hard to understand. To create peace between your kingdoms you had to marry Bakugou.

"Darling... you are unhappy." She takes small sips of her tea, "I can help you escape.. you don't love him you don't even know him. Come with me, and I can help nourish you back to health. You won't even have to return, I'm quite lonely myself. Now, have some tea. Your cheeks are practically scarlet." Marigolds grin is sinister, she taps her nails slowly against the table; that's when you realize:

Her fingers and nails are sharp, green, and coated with old blood.

Her green eye sharpen with each passing second - her pupils are almost snake like. You gulp down the fear that rose in you, ignoring the raging pound against your chest. What do you do? You can tell she's growing impatient, if you run out now with no weapon you could kiss your life away. If you stayed... no. You needed a knife, your dagger, anything even a wooden stake would do fine. "I don't bite, sit down." Marigold says menacingly, your feet  scuff the floor as you make your way to her. This is the time where you're supposed be strong, you guess.

Marigold lifts up her tea kettle, you notice her teeth for the first time.. how sharp they were.. separated and long.. how could she disguise herself as someone so beautiful?

"Remember.. they are tricksters. They are going to tell you things you wanna hear, they can be anyone and anything." Kirishima's words rang through your head, "Well wouldn't that make them a shape shifter? I've heard those are a thing too, how can I be certain?" You pout, how would you know. The creatures of the Enchanted Forest were so complex. He crosses his arm, "You'll know when they begin to turn.. back into the creature they were originally. Don't catch yourself entertaining, they'll slice your throat in a second."

Your breathing grows heavy, she's a goblin. She's what you've been looking for, her name wasn't Marigold - Marigold was a the woman who the face, the body belonged too. This thing... is morphing. You choose your words carefully, slowly reaching out for an empty tea cup and quietly asking her to fill it. If you could just lead her into the kitchen somehow you could possibly get a knife, "Well now that's the spirit my Queen. I promise this tea with sooth everything away, melting all the overwhelming emotions you may be feeling." The woman mutters before pulling back a hot tea kettle.

Hot.

Tea.

Kettle.

Boiling water is in there. Your heart prancing in joy, you have a chance. You had an opening, quickly, you stop her with your hand. "Actually, may I poor it? I-I sometimes like mines a little more full than usual." You smile nervously, "Oh why of course, here. Have as much as you'd like - it came right off the cauldron."

You nod, taking the handle away from her and carefully pouring the boiling tea into your cup. You make note of her wandering eyes, you've got to make this quick. You finish pouring, opening the kettle lid you ask aloud, "What kind of tea is this? It smells wonderful." You needed a distraction, a reason to open the lid.

"Lavender green tea with a speck of rose water-"

Your throw the boiling water over her head, her screams erupt in the as dining room; as her skin bubbles up. You throw the kettle at her head and knock back your chair, running towards the kitchen. "You wretched! Horrid- I'll slice your throat!" The Goblin screeches, you search the drawers and cabinets for something, anything! But to no avail you didn't find a single thing. Now you were completely done for.

Heavy footsteps and angered huffs make their way towards the kitchen - it's now or never. Throwing pots and pans you make sure to strike the goblin in the face, "After I saved your life! This is the thanks I get?" You hear, bending down to hide underneath the counter your eyes lock with a shining blade.

Your dagger!

Hidden behind the cauldron, you just needed a way to get back there. You needed a way to grab it, the goblins footsteps grow heavy. You silence your breathing with your palms, "I could've helped you, I could've been your escape. You greedy rat!" You hear tables being flipped over, cabinets being thrown open violently, "Wait till I get my hands on you.. I'll cut you open and gut you like a fish."

You attempt to keep calm, either way you were a goner if you hadn't left in that moment. When you hear the goblins footsteps move away in distance you shuffle onto your feet and zoom towards the cauldron. The crackling fire and boil contents bring you an idea. You hurry for the dagger, flipping it between your hands.

"There you are.." you hear a snarl from across the room, readying your blade to attack, you throw your hands up, "Thank you for the hospitality, but it looks like you have something I need." You point towards the goblins chest, the heart. A viable beating heart, only feet away. In mere seconds the goblin launches at you, reaching out to tackle you. You swiftly move out of the way throwing yourself to the ground, your palms throb in pain from the splinters lodged deep into your flesh - but that's the least of your worries. You scurry to your feet and push over the boiling cauldron over the goblin and stab your dagger deep into its head. Blood splatters your face in small droplets, staining your face and clothes.

You've never killed a "person" before.

Never did you think you could actually do it, but the small sigh of relief escaping your throat tells you that you are finally safe.

You proved what you had to prove. And for the night you had sanctuary.

Your mind races in adrenaline, you're alive.

Yet you had to kill in the process, does that make you one of them? No, you did what you had to do. It was a matter of kill or be killed. You pull your dagger away, out of its head, you didn't kill an innocent women. You killed a beast. Small gurgles and a moan fall from its mouth, the sound of death. You wipe away the blood on your forehead with your forearm and roll the dead corpse to the side.

The heart...

A token for the kingdom.

***

Blood stains your chest; dried up to the color brown as you stumble through the forest. Your eye lids feel heavy with every step you take yet you fight off the urge to fall to your knees and succumb to the dark black dots in your vision. It's tempting, yet you are so close to the finish.. you walked the full second day. With no breaks and no source of water on the way, your fever had returned full force as the sun blazed down your body.

You cough into your arm as your second hand clutches onto the heart you were meant to return. Fresh blood coats your hands from the animals you had to fight off for the heart, the trip back was just as worse, your eye lids flutter, opening and closing with each step you nearly fall to the floor.

You look like a dead girl walking.

Your feet shuffle and kick at the ground below.

Your back is sore and your throat feels dry from the cold of the night - the forest was ruthless. You can hear the tribal drums from afar, the sound edging closer and closer, increasing its volume with each step. You stumble to the ground, exhausted, thirsty, and sick. You consider staying down, to tired to even pull yourself up. You hear voices, they sound so close.

"I told you already, she'll be here."

Bakugou?

The king, your husband.

"Give her some more time."

It must be near afternoon then, you push yourself up when you heard Kirishima's voice agree with your husband. Providing you some more time to make it to the finish line - you assume the politicians want to speed up the process. You swore they must have something against you.

Your body feels sticky from the old, dried blood on your chest. Fingers still freshly coated in blood and dirt you push yourself off from a nearby tree - edging closer to the entrance of the Enchanted Forest. The setting suns sunlight peers through the small branches and leaves of the trees above, kissing your exposed shoulders, reddened from the sunburns that littered your skin. You wipe the sweat off your forehead; smearing a combination of dried and fresh blood all over your face. But you don't care, you just had a few more step till sanctuary.

The entrance is clear, open to the trail you followed.

You can see Kirishima from a distance, his rough shoulders tense in worry. Beside him, Bakugou stands with his arms crossed over his shoulders. An expression you couldn't make out contours his face.

You know you've finally made it out when a wave of heat smacks your face even harder - the setting sun beating on your body you stumble over to the King.

A smirk on your face as you hold up the heart, his eyes widen in surprise, taken aback you watch his lips move. But no sound comes out, it's all muffled around you. Black spots collect in your vision, "I-I did it.." you mumble, falling into his chest his hand reaches out to touch your forehead.

You lie passed out in his arms as he calls out to his guards, Kirishima collects the heart from your hand just before it could fall. "What do we do?" The dragon frantically says, Bakugou looks out for the Counsel men, his eyes fall onto the President. Glaring he announces, "We're taking her back to the Palace now!"

"You will do no such thing, your Majesty! She will be brought to the plaza hall, your people are waiting! Handmaidens, guards, take Queen Y/N, preserve the heart and bathe it in pigs blood. We are continuing the ceremony."

Your fever rose with each passing minute, and the exhaustion you'd expedited already was enough to kill. Bakugou breathes in heavily knowing he had no say in the ceremony. There was no way he could just simply override the parliament. Arms wrap around your body as the guards and handmaidens assist in take you.

They rip you away from Bakugou's arms.

"We'll take care of her after the ceremony-"

Kirishima interrupts the Counsel man, bearing his sharp teeth he growls, "I believe you will. I don't necessarily like the taste of humans." He threatens as they user you off. Bakugou stares in annoyance at the carriage that rushed you off to the plaza. Nightfall was close, and he could already feel the rumbling of ceremonial drums beneath his feet. A hand comes to pat his shoulder, the Counsels president, Hagoku Tekona, smiles. "You should probably head back to the plaza.. she might wanna see you as soon as we wake her up."

"You're just gonna wake her up?"

"We'll just drench her in pigs blood to wake her, she'll anyways have to. The tradition calls for the Queen to bathe in pigs blood as she intakes the heart to be fully part of the dragon clan-"

Bakugou, walks away, reaching out for Kirishima he taps his back.

"Make sure... they don't throw her around too much."

Nodding in agreement Kirishima fetches their horses, "I'll take care of her. Make sure she's conscious." The two jump onto their horses settling into the saddle, Bakugou mutters to himself, incoherent words bungled all in one sentence, he pulls back on his horse. Kirishima arches a brow in worry, eyeing his friend he doesn't know what to say neither what to do, the dragon mutters, "You seem surprised. Did you think she wasn't going to make it?"

Nodding Bakugou turns to face Kirishima, with notable surprise written on his face. "I thought I was going to have to find another wife..."

Chuckling Kirishima shakes his head before taking off with his horse, "Depending on how well tonight's ceremony goes.. it appears Bakugou that you have a wife beside your side."

"It appears.. so."

AUTHORS NOTES: Yooooooo! How are you guys, sorry for taking to long. This chapter was longer than the others so I’m happy with where this is going. I have been going through a few things, remember guys I’m just a teenager so it can be hard to fit things in on time. I just got a job, just waiting for the orientation, I have school work and I’m glad I have all A’s! Anyways I hope you liked it!!

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[justcourttee]

hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it! 

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title. 

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.  

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette,  but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

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[abarbaricyalp]

Hand holding 37

37) not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

I assumed SamBucky. If not, just let me know!

Reblogging with the AO3 link ASAP so hopefully it'll stay in the tag this time.

i wanna hold your hand

Bucky had been in Delacroix for six months when the invitation rolled in. He flipped the heavy, glossy card over in his fingers, stacked the multiple envelopes and smaller cards and pieces of tissue paper together, and then looked at the fancy golden script again.

Albert James Wilson and Stephanie Marie Pujols cordially invite Captain Samuel Thomas Wilson to celebrate their wedding with them on the Third of August Two-Thousand-and-Twenty-Five.

There was more text--RSVP instructions, food preferences, a location--but Bucky’s eyes kept drifting to the scrawled message at the bottom of the invitation next to a quickly drawn shield.

Please bring Sergeant Barnes as your plus one -❤️ Stephanie-

He just about flung the invitation across the kitchen when he heard the door open. “Will you go get the rest of the groceries out of the truck? It’s about to open up and I don’t want to be dragging shit through the rain,” Sam said as he stumbled through the entryway to the kitchen. “Oh, you saw the card, great. You can remember what day it is. They sent a Save-the-Date ages ago but I totally forgot about it.”

Bucky felt a little hollow in the chest as he listened to Sam carry on like it was nothing that someone Bucky didn’t even know asked for him by name. Asked Sam for him. “Uh, who's Albert?” he finally managed to get out through the heavy lump in his throat.

“He’s one of my cousins. One of the babies. I think he’s, like, twenty-six or something? Maybe a little older. Him and Steph have been dating for ages but they took everything really slow. She went to grad school and they always said they weren’t getting married until they were totally graduated and had jobs. And then, you know, the Blip and all.”

Sam set the bags of groceries down on the oven and started to stack cans below the cupboards they went in, fruits by the baskets on the breakfast bar, drinks on the other side of the fridge.

“Right,” Bucky said and tapped the invitation against his metal hand. “Do you think it’s really a good idea for me to go?”

Sam shot him an unamused look. “Listen, you don’t get to invite yourself to the fun parties on the water and then decide that you don’t want to sit through a long ass wedding. Besides, you’ll like the reception. Lots of dancing.”

“Sure, it’s just… I mean, they don’t know me. This is a serious moment and they’re just asking for a stranger to come sit in the audience and watch them...fucking become one under the eyes of God.”

“You’re so Catholic,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re coming with me. I’ll be bored out of my mind if you don’t. Besides, if you don’t go, who’s gonna be the ugly, old one?”

“I hate you,” Bucky sighed.

“I know. Now go get the groceries before the bread gets soaked.”

Bucky had been promised dancing and food. But, while most of the church had cleared out for a local dancehall for the reception, Bucky found himself standing awkwardly by the altar while approximately four million pictures were snapped of the wedding party. Sam, leaning against a beautiful statue that he probably shouldn’t have been leaning against next to Bucky, was the only thing keeping Bucky from royally losing his entire mind.

He hadn’t been in a church basically since DC all those years ago. Who knew about before then. Occasionally, when he’d been on the run, he’d crept into an empty rectory to snag a few minutes of quiet where he could rest his eyes without feeling like someone was staring at him, waiting for a moment of weakness on his part. And, sure, growing up Catholic had put this indelible mark on his soul that reacted to any church, empty or not. A deep longing and belonging that he’d never been able to fully grapple with.

But empty churches where he just wanted to sleep were not the same level of overwhelming that a church in the midst of celebration was. Now, all that longing and belonging was spilling over his ribs and soaking into the rest of his body, alive and hot and so tangible he felt like he could almost reach inside himself and touch it.

He missed this.

He missed the happiness and the family and the love that he could find in the walls of a church, in the midst of a celebration. He missed being able to feel something bigger than himself.

The bride and groom hadn’t stopped smiling and laughing all afternoon, always good sports about redoing a photo or trying a new pose or bringing new people into the same picture they’d taken a thousand times already. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other, couldn’t let go of hands or waists or cheeks.

God, Bucky missed it.

“Okay, how about something with all of the couples?” the photographer asked. “Mom, dad, get on in there. Any bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up? Alright, you go there. Sirs? Sirs?”

“Yo, Sam!” Albert called out and Bucky looked up sharply from the jostling of people in love with each other and the moment.

“I’m not here with anyone,” Sam called back.

“You’re holding your date’s hand?” the photographer said, clearly unsure of what was before her own eyes now.

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their interlocked fingers, hands pressed between their thighs, and then jumped apart with muttered apologies.

“Uh. We’re not. We’re not.” What a stupid thing to have to say after everyone had just seen them. “We’re not together,” Bucky finally got out.

Stephanie frowned deeply for the first time all afternoon, a scheming furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

“Alright… Well then, is that everyone? Okay, cheese it up hard…”

The pictures continued.

“Sorry again,” Bucky said a while later while he and Sam stood shoulder to shoulder in the church’s small bathroom, both looking at their own reflections while they washed their hands.

“Nah, it’s fine. I probably just kept shifting closer to you,” Sam said and there was a strain in his voice that Bucky couldn’t quite place. He didn’t think he’d heard it before. Not on Sam.

“Sometimes I kind of tune out what that arm’s feeling,” he said. “There’s- a lot of nerve activity, y’know. I didn’t notice I’d grabbed you.”

“It was the moment,” Sam agreed. “We were watching a bunch of other people hold hands and shit.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shook water off of his fingers and then wiped his hands on his slacks. “Can we go eat now?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding quickly. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure other people are waiting.”

The dancehall was dim, lit up only with white string lights draped over the rafters and around the tables and columns. It smelt heavenly, a mix of well cooked food and an open bar and desserts that Bucky couldn’t even name. Sam grabbed Bucky’s wrist--this time he felt it--and pulled him through the crowds lingering at the dance floor’s edge. He gave as short answers as was possible to stay polite until they got to the food.

Sarah was waiting for them.

“What took you two so long?” she asked. “I’ve had to fend off a dozen people looking for Captain America.”

“You will not believe what happened to us at the church,” Sam said, loading up a plate with more food than Bucky felt comfortable taking. It was fine because Sam was making Bucky a plate too and they were pretty similar in portion size.

“Oh, yes I will,” Sarah said. “Stephanie told me all about it.”

“What? How did she beat us here? We got in our car first.”

“Why did you two lie to that poor photographer?” Sarah asked.

Bucky looked up with a meringue half in his mouth. “We didn’t? She made the assumption herself.”

“You said you weren’t together,” Sarah clarified. “Why are you playing coy with me?”

“We’re not together,” Sam insisted for the second time that day. Bucky ignored the cinch of his heart and grabbed a brownie to add to Sam’s precarious stack of food.

Sarah brought two fingers up to the bridge of her nose. “Samuel Thomas,” she said and Sam squawked out an indignant sound.

“Don’t say my name like that. You sound just like mom.”

“You’re lucky it’s me and not mom listening to you lie to yourself.”

Sam was about to argue with her, Bucky could tell, when the plate in his hand suddenly tipped. Bucky’s hand shot out to steady it, fingers sliding over Sam’s to hold it still, wait for the food to stop moving before adjusting their hands under it to continue carrying it.

Sarah shot them a very pointed look. “Cass and AJ are holding our table down and Mrs. Reynolds has already said she wants at least two dances from you,” she said to Sam.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, just a little sarcastically. “Come on, Buck. And grab an extra roll. AJ’s gonna take all the good desserts if we don’t distract him.”

Sam did far more dancing than Bucky did. Just about all night, he had someone on his arm, cutting in, or pulling him back to the floor. Between everyone at their table, they cleared the plates Sam had made but Bucky didn’t think Sam had had half of what he wanted. He made sure to collect another plate when he was sure everyone had had a chance to eat and kept it safe at his side, even with AJ curled up in his lap, snoozing against his metal shoulder soundly. True, most kids couldn’t eat while they were asleep but after watching him put away way more carbs and sugar than Bucky thought should be possible, he wasn’t putting anything past the kid.

When Sam managed to drag himself away from all of his fans for the sixth time that night, and when he shot Bucky a curious but pleased glance between AJ and his shoulder, Bucky just said, “Sugar crash,” and pushed the plate of food over to Sam with the arm not currently holding AJ in place.

Possibly, AJ got his appetite from his uncle if the way Sam dug in was anything to go by. “Jesus, man, breathe,” Bucky laughed and passed over the bottle of beer he’d been nursing most of the last hour.

“Thanks. I forgot how much a full night of dancing takes out of you. Not as young as I used to be, y’know,” Sam said and took a long pull from Bucky’s drink.

“You literally moved a boulder off a road yesterday,” Bucky pointed out.

“I only had to do that once and I had the jetpack. I’ll tell you, my feet wish I had the wings about now,” Sam answered. He put away a roll and one of the sweets Bucky didn’t know before finally sitting back a little, forearms rested on the tables. He’d discarded his jacket after the fourth or so dance and at some point he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. That, plus the brown suspenders over his light blue shirt had him looking like a hundred old memories in Bucky’s mind.

“AJ and I filmed you a few times,” Bucky said to distract himself from the sweat cooling on Sam’s forearms. He brought his phone out and left it on the table as it played a video. Sam leaned forward and then laughed.

“Oh, you liked that one, huh?” he asked.

“Nah, that was AJ’s choice. I liked this one,” he said, swiping to the previous video.

“Of course, something more lindy-hop,” Sam said with a nod. “That lady called me every single day after mom died, y’know. She always said it was ‘cause she missed her already and our voices were similar, but I think she was worried about me.”

“Who was this one?” Bucky asked, flipping through a few more clips.

“Oh, shit,” Sam laughed. “I can’t believe you recorded that. We went to the prom together junior year. Her dad hated me. He’d probably hate that this video exists.”

“Captain America couldn’t even clear the bad blood?” Bucky joked.

“Hell no. Prom night, he busted into the living room after the dance thinking he was gonna catch us in some act but we were just watching movies. It was never like that with us, but you couldn't convince him.”

Bucky flipped to another video. “Her son joined up with me but ended up dropping out and going Navy instead. - She was my first boss. - I played baseball with that guy and he came out a few months after we graduated. - I dated her daughter very briefly. - That’s the daughter and the little one is her daughter. - That’s my favorite teacher’s son. He just wanted to say hi from his mom.”

“Hey, what are you looking at?” AJ asked groggily suddenly. He leaned over the table, small hand coming to rest where, once again, Sam and Bucky’s had drifted together on the other side of the phone. This time they couldn’t jump apart.

“Uncle Sam, Uncle Bucky danced with my teacher and she said he had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen,” Cass shouted as he came bounding back to the table with Sarah in tow behind him. Bucky had seen her dance with a handsome man for three dances in a row so if she cut any new knowing looks at where their hands were being held hostage, he had some retaliation this time.

Bucky finally let Sam drag him out to the middle of the dancefloor just as things were beginning to wind down. Many guests had already left for the evening, catering had cleared out the food, though Sam and AJ really did their part in making sure there was no bread left for them to clean, and the band had packed up and left a local DJ to close out the night.

This time, Bucky was more than aware of his hand sliding into Sam’s, his metal hand settling against Sam’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the strap of his suspenders. Sam’s other hand was warm and welcome against his hip. Bucky couldn’t help but step closer to him as they swayed to the slow song.

“You were really good with all the kids all night,” Sam said. “I saw them dogpile you earlier.”

“Kids like me,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Entertaining them was my job at weddings back when too. All those nights of dancing and I never got to show off at family functions,” he joked.

“You showed off plenty. I think it’s gonna be you Mrs. Reynolds asks for next time someone gets married. Hell, maybe she’ll be marrying you.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Hey, she’s got spirit. I think if we’d gone a few more dances, she might’ve found one I didn’t know.”

“Well, it was a jazz band. Can’t blame you for not keeping up when you didn’t grow up with good music.”

“We had jazz,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. “It was nice, getting to see more of your life.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, it was nice stepping back in time a little bit, getting to see how everyone’s grown up.”

“You’re so loved here. Not Captain America. Sam Wilson. People adore you.”

Sam ducked his head shyly and Bucky reached up to catch a knuckle under his chin. The music had stopped and their feet must’ve realized it before their brains because they weren’t dancing anymore either.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Sammy,” someone called from across the room. Bucky recognized the groom’s voice. “You haven’t let go of his hand all night. Just kiss him already.”

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their tangled fingers and let out a little laugh. “Well, if it’s what your fans want…” Bucky suggested.

“Shut up, man,” Sam laughed and leaned forward to kiss him.

[sadachmesarthim]

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it. 

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis​ !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands) 

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!! 

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky. 

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up. 

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another. 

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia. 

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future. 

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting. 

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately. 

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything. 

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing. 

Steve saw it as devotion. 

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased. 

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous  - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset. 

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew. 

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service. 

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won. 

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”  

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.” 

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.” 

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt. 

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes. 

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately. 

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion. 

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage. 

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place. 

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts. 

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved. 

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time. 

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. 

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom. 

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him. 

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time. 

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour. 

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway. 

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve. 

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him. 

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact. 

Bucky knew better. 

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it. 

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people. 

Bucky was fucked. 

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home. 

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all. 

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again. 

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back. 

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear. 

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs. 

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him. 

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything. 

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help.  No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency. 

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him. 

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow. 

If he did, he'd get rewarded. 

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.  

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem. 

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one. 

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried. 

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation. 

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything. 

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him. 

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years? 

Bucky didn't know anymore. 

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all. 

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before. 

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you." 

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right? 

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random. 

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell. 

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed. 

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far. 

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise. 

They went entirely unused. 

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve. 

And breakfast now, apparently. 

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve. 

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe. 

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters. 

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit. 

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody. 

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe. 

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him. 

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking. 

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing. 

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky. 

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

[lovelivingmydreams]

@Meowthefluffy Zombie au au chapter 2

A happy belated birthday to you @meowthefluffy hope you enjoy it.

They had found themselves a safe space in the library. There was an underground parking to hide the car, the windows were high up so while it was well lit no one on the outside would spot movement and they could collect some books to help them survive. Knowledge and skill was crucial. Languages, knots, engineering… Anything that could help them out later. Virgil knew sign language, Janus knew French and Roman knew Spanish. They decided that to be safe they should each learn one additional language. Janus picked mandarin, Virgil Russian and Roman took Arabic. Roman had been very timid ever since they lost the horde. And Virgil hadn’t been exactly eager to talk to him. “V- Virgil? Can we talk?” Roman whispered. Virgil didn’t answer, nor did he look up from under the hood. He was checking over their car to see how long it would last them and what parts would need replacing soon. He wondered if they could make it to the shop to gather supplies for maintenance. “Listen… I understand that you are angry with me…” “Do you?” Virgil snapped as he finally got up, oil smeared over his cheeks, cleaning off his hands with a cloth he shoves in his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest staring down at Roman. He’s definitely mad. “Because I don’t think you do. We’ve talked about how I feel about consent. But you go ahead and kiss me without so much as a warning! And then you plan to just go off so I can feel guilty and like a crappy person for the rest of my life? Are you that selfish?” Virgil seethed. Roman cringed. He did know. They’d talked about it plenty of times while watching movies. Virgil was not a fan of the ‘confess your love by kissing them without warning’ trope. “I was a coward, I know. It shouldn’t have taken the end of civilization and certain death for me to confess to you. But… I knew you’d be disgusted by me and I just…” “There’s another thing. We’ve been friends since before I can remember. You really think that little off me that I’d feel different about you just because of that?” Virgil growled. Roman looked up surprised. “But… You always laugh when people make those jokes… And…” “And that was wrong of me. I can own up to that. But you never said anything to imply you found them anything other than funny yourself. Has it occurred to you that I might do that for the same reason?” That… Roman hadn’t thought of that. “And didn’t I always come to your defense when people thought you were to girly? What did I say about that?” Virgil pointed out. “That… That I’m a different kind of manly. Like a prince…” Roman recalled. “Hence me calling you princey since kindergarten!” Virgil huffed. Roman’s head was spinning. Trying to make sense of everything he was hearing. “But you’re… You mean you’re…” Virgil was straight right? He did everything right. He rode a motorcycle, wore leather, worked on cars, liked aggressive music and guns… Sure he also wore make up but in a cool way.

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve been questioning myself for a while, I’m not sure. I don’t know how I feel about a lot of stuff right now. At this point I wanna see if either of our families are still around and make it so that we all live.” He stared Roman down again. “All of us. You are not allowed to die on me Roman. Understood? I’m pissed as hell. But that doesn’t change that I’ll keep you safe. Got it?” Roman’s heart went a thousand miles a minute. Virgil was right. With the end of the world hanging over their heads, this wasn’t the time to sort out this mess he’d gotten them in. But one thing was sure. Virgil didn’t hate him because of how he felt. He was mad about what he did and almost did though. And that was fair. If the roles were reversed he probably wouldn’t have been very happy about it either. But things could still be fixed. Maybe. “Yes… I’ll… See if I can put something together for us to eat,” he muttered softly. “There’s some supplies in the trunk. Use the perishables first,” Virgil instructed. Roman nodded. “Right… Good idea,” he said softly as he moved to the trunk and gathered some things to cook a decent meal for three. “I’m really sorry for hurting you Virgil… I just wanted to protect you for once,” he told him before disappearing back inside. Days turned into weeks and Roman had a hard time. Virgil’s anger at him subsided. Roman even woke up a few times finding that Virgil had moved closer to him either in his sleep or due to waking up from a nightmare. And when they were awake he slowly started to relax around him again. Roman wasn’t sure if he was waiting for him to make another move on him or to pull another heroic stunt, but he was slowly trusting that he wouldn’t. Janus was… He was clever. A master strategist, if Roman was completely honest. And he was handsome.  And charming.  And flirty. Towards both of them. But mostly Virgil. And that made Roman nervous. Because what if it wasn’t him but Janus who’d made Virgil question whether he was entirely, strictly into girls? Roman is too insecure to ask. They didn’t find their families. They decided to assume that they got out and were somewhere safe until proven otherwise. If only for their own piece of mind. Virgil recovered his tools from the shop, as well as some extra weapons and ammunition. They managed to raid a few homes and even an apothecary for first aid kits and medicines. Roman held a meticulous catalogue of all their perishable supplies. When Janus hinted at Virgil that he could give him CPR anytime, Virgil calmly deflected him and said that Roman would be the one playing nurse if any of them wanted to survive. “Though you might need to teach me some of the basics soon. I don’t want you to die cause I don’t know how to save you,” he’d added softly. Roman had blushed and nodded. Feeling hopeful that he was getting close to being forgiven. Then one night he woke up and found Virgil sitting at the window of the abandoned classroom they were hiding in for the night. Janus was sleeping. They must’ve switched watch recently. “V?” Roman whispered. They had to talk again. He needed to know where they stood. “You should be asleep Ro. You have three more hours until your shift,” Virgil said softly. Virgil always took the middle watch. Never allowing himself 8 consecutive hours. Roman and Janus both had tried to convince him to switch it up. But Virgil was adamant. Janus took first, Virgil second and Roman third. Virgil claimed that that way they’d all have breakfast waiting when they woke up. But Roman suspected Virgil didn’t want to disrupt his sleeping schedule if he didn’t want to. Ever since they were little, Roman had more trouble staying up late than getting up early. He’d loved getting up early actually. Sunrise was his favorite. Virgil and him had slept under the stars a few times. The only times Roman had managed to stay awake and alert for most of the night. It was almost sunrise when they finally went to bed. “I can’t… We need to talk,” Roman insisted. Virgil looked back. “I guess we do,” he sighed reluctantly. Roman went to sit with Virgil and looked out over the playground. “Are you still angry?” he asked. “… I’m still scared Roman,” Virgil answered finally. “I haven’t been angry with you for weeks. But I’m scared you will do something stupid and I won’t be able to protect you. I was… I froze last time. What if I freeze again and lose you without even trying to stop you?” Roman was shocked to find that Virgil’s eyes were filling with tears. “How do I live with myself if I lose the most important person in my life like that?” he asked. It was hard, trying not to be happy that Virgil said that. But the love of his life was in pain and Roman would be damned if he didn’t take that pain away. “Virgil, I did what I did because I knew you’d freeze up. You always do when you get dropped in unexpected situations. I knew that… That would shake you up enough to let me go. I used my feelings for you and what I knew about you to do what I thought was right. I regret doing that… I’m sorry Virgil. I…” Before Roman could continue he was pulled into a tight hug. “Promise me we’ll stick together from now on. Ok? No matter what you think is best for me. We’re a team alright?” Roman let himself melt into the embrace and nodded into Virgil’s chest. “Ok,” he said softly. The next month things seemed to go back to what would be normal for them under the circumstances if they’d never had a fight. They joked and teased and Virgil was comfortable with showing physical affection again. Roman was even warming up to Janus, who told him that while he enjoyed flirting and everything, he wasn’t very interested in dating of any kind. “Virgil and I have this game we’re playing, but I don’t care much about winning. He’s all yours your highness.” Being friends was much easier after that. There were scary moments. Stray zombies in what they thought was a clear building. Sometimes they found people who’d been infected and locked themselves away to give their family time to escape. But those situations were easily dealt with. The hordes were harder. Luckily they were rare. Only loud noises and bright lights attracted them and they tried their best to avoid both. But sometimes an engine would backfire or an animal would get spooked and make a ruckus escaping.

They didn’t encounter other survivors often. Usually at a distance and it seemed an unspoken agreement to not approach each other. It was the best way to avoid misunderstanding. It was Virgil’s birthday. Roman had done his best to keep track of time and been counting the days to do something nice for him. So he gathered the right ingredients and made the closest approximation to Virgil’s favorite pasta he could. They found themselves in a restaurant, as if the universe agreed to cut them a break and so Roman found the right spices and some unopened tubes of tomato concentrate. They obviously didn’t have ground beef but Janus had gotten good at providing them with fresh meat. Virgil nearly strangled the both of them when he realized what that smell was. The dinner was interrupted by a knocking at the door. It was soft, and rhythmic. Nothing like the way a zombie would sound. Virgil, naturally, took point and stalked towards the door. They all got ready to react if their visitor was hostile. “Good evening… Say, I haven’t smelled anything that good in ages. Mind if I join?”

[wakaoujisenhime]

Controlled shocks - Kaminari x reader

Synopsis: Frustrated about the missing spice in your life you decide to take a shower. The moment you begin taking care of the built-up stress, your boyfriend knocks on the bathroom door. Separated by nothing but a curtain, you decide to continue pleasuring yourself, hoping that Kaminari wouldn’t notice, but ... 

tags/warnings: Kaminari x reader ✅  smut (18+) ✅  quirkplay ✅  squirting ✅    

crossed off square: Shower sex ✅

A/N: Third BINGO piece for the bookclub!! and two more are on their way, but pss NOW, the moment I saw the square with shower sex, I instantly thought of Kaminari, so I hope you enjoy this little smut scenario I came up with! A BIG thanks and a tight bear hug for my good friend @shoutogepi​ who took care of the beta-reading! Please enjoy! (˶◡‿◡)

image/art source: Twitter (art by iarim)

[ @fanfic-me-up​ ; @kingtamakimurder​ ]

→ BINGO Event masterlist

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Lukewarm water ran down your body as you closed your eyes, savoring the satisfying feeling of your tense muscles finally relaxing. You had just come back home from work, and since your boyfriend wasn’t home, you decided to take a shower and prepare dinner afterward.

A small sigh escaped your mouth at the thought of him. 

You and he had become a couple around the time you guys became second years at UA. Since then everything went perfectly fine, you had no real obligations and could savor a carefree life...you were students after all, but the moment you graduated everything changed. The number of responsibilities you had to shoulder for yourself, your partner, and society was enough to overwhelm you both. Still, luckily the two of you had built up such a strong bond that you decided to deal with these problems together.

But now that the more significant difficulties were out of the way, some minor ones began appearing. One of them was that you both hadn’t had sex for approximately three weeks, and it was slowly but surely getting to you. Of course, none of you were to blame since your jobs were the actual cause of this ‘problem,’ but that was to be expected; nevertheless, there was something else that vexed you, namely Kaminari’s obliviousness to your sexual frustration.

Back in your UA days, you constantly bickered with Bakugou, who wouldn’t stop calling your boyfriend ‘dunce face’, but now you wished you hadn’t. You would’ve understood it if you weren’t giving him any signals, but greeting him with babydoll lingerie when he came back from work or with nothing on but an apron while you were preparing breakfast was screaming ‘I’m horny, please fuck me,’...unfortunately, your screams didn’t reach their target.

Frustrated, you bit your lower lip and leaned your forehead on the cold tiles of the bathroom walls.

“Denki, you idiot...” you whispered as you closed your eyes. 

You let your hands run from your neck down to your chest, belly, and hips. The moment they’d reached your aching core, you hoisted one of your legs up on the bathtub’s edge and slowly began tracing your wet folds with your fingers. A sharp breath escaped your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure you got from that small and insignificant gesture, which frustrated you even more.

How can I be that satisfied with just that?

Your frustration slowly transformed into anger, and what’s the best way to vent then let it all out on yourself. The fingers that were caressing you ever so gently before were now angrily moving in and out of your tight hole which had tightened up quite a bit, thanks to a certain dunce, and the water wasn’t the ideal lubricant you were looking for, so your movements hurt quite a bit.

“Ugh...fuck.”

Just as you were about to go faster, a sudden knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to stop mid-movement.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah, sure...” 

You have never been happier to have bought that shower curtain because if that piece of cloth hadn’t been there, he would’ve witnessed just how horny you looked and that only from two of your fingers. 

“I’m back, sweetie...sorry if I’m late!”

Just hearing his cheerful voice was enough to set your body aflame once again; thus, you slowly continued moving and scissoring your fingers, hoping that this would be enough to get you used to it once more, meanwhile your boyfriend had resumed his talk.

“If you haven’t eaten yet, then I’m going to head for the kitchen and prepare something for us, what do you say?”

“Uh-huh, that’s f-fine by m-me...”  

Sure the curtain shielded you from his view, but it also made it harder for you to see just what your man was doing on the other side, and that was perhaps the biggest downside to it. 

Indeed, Denki wasn’t the brightest bulb around, but he wasn’t as stupid as some thought, especially when there was something that concerned you. 

He had noticed your stuttering speech and labored breath, but decided to continue feigning ignorance.

“Hey, you know what happened today, oh my god you aren’t going to believe it! So listen up…”

While Kaminari talked something about Kirishima and Bakugou having a new tag team attack, you slowly directed the water stream from the showerhead towards your sensitive clit that you had deliberately neglected, knowing fully well just how good it’ll feel if you suddenly overwhelmed it with pleasure. 

Suddenly a particular idea crossed your mind as you glanced back at the blurry figure standing in the middle of the bathroom.

What if I open it..?

Meanwhile, your boyfriend had undressed and was standing there with crossed arms, facing the bathtub. He couldn’t help but notice that something had been off with your silhouette since the moment he came in, he had a hunch on what you might be doing, soo he decided to put you to the test. The story of his best friends and their new attack was one he had already told you about some days ago, and he knew that you weren’t one to forget such things, so the moment you had just answered with a silent ‘uh-huh’ he knew that there was something else going on. Honestly speaking, he had been pent up for quite some time, but out of consideration for you, he had held back, but today he wasn’t going to pass out on the opportunity you gave him. 

Sharing the same thought both of you took hold of the curtain’s edge at the same time and yanked it to the side, revealing your disheveled appearance to one another. 

With wide eyes and agape mouths, both of you looked at each other in disbelief. 

“Denki-”

Without any reservation, you threw yourself at him and began hungrily kissing his lips. 

The man in front of you was taken aback, but he caught you and tangled his fingers in your wet locks as he returned the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips and began grinding your wet self against his hard shaft, that action caused him to growl silently next to your ear and in order to stop you, he grabbed both of your asscheeks and squeezed them tightly. 

“Hold up, babygirl- ah...let me b-breathe at least.”

“Shut it, Denki. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, huh?” you hissed as you let one of your hands glide down to his abdomen and take a tight hold of his pulsating cock, pumping it lazily yet firmly. Your boyfriend’s whiny moans turned you on even more and slowly, but surely your self-control was declining the more his face contorted with nothing but sheer pleasure.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted your dick to split me open and thrust into me as if I was nothing but a mere object?” 

After uttering your innermost desires to him, you bit his bobbing adam’s apple with a cocky smile, confident that you were in charge of the current situation.

Suddenly a sudden electric shock tingled your already overstimulated clit and left you breathless and confused for a mere number of seconds. While you were still processing what had just happened, the man who held you close to his body slowly entered the bathtub and pressed your back against the cold wall. He removed your arms from his neck and held them above your head instead, making sure that you had no way to neither touch yourself nor him.

“You weren’t the only one who suffered, you know?” he whispered in a low and threatening voice. It was now his turn to do what he desired, and that’s what he did.

Like what you had done before, Denki also began nibbling and biting the skin of your neck, leaving marks wherever he wanted.

When your boyfriend was satisfied, he leaned his head back and gazed at the different shades of red that adorned your neck. 

“How about you (Y/N)? Can you even comprehend just how hard it was for me to hold myself back? Seeing your relaxed face and slightly parted lips every morning while you had one of your legs wrapped around mine wasn’t as easy as you might think it was.”, he spoke in a low and raspy voice, “You were lucky that you slept or I would’ve torn those pieces of fabric you call clothes from your slutty body and fucked you right then and there.”

The man forcefully gripped your chin and gave you another rough kiss; he even occasionally bit your lower lip to demonstrate further how desperate he indeed was and had been for the past few weeks.

Usually, you’d let him take you just like that, but today you were as upset as he was and maybe even more, so you made full use of the fact that you could still move your hips and rocked them back and forth once again.

The glare he shot at you was honestly enough to make you cum right then and there, but you managed to hold back.

“Now you have me right where you want me, look...I’m all defenseless and have no intention of fighting back, so take me, pound me so hard I won’t be able to walk for days- no even weeks, electrocute me if you have to, just finally do something Denki...please”

Your needy and trembling voice was all he needed to pull his hips back, align his pre-cum covered tip with your wet entrance, and thrust his entire shaft inside of you in one swift movement.  

“G-God! Yes...yes!! This is wha-ah..what I was waiting for!”

Kaminari had freed your wrists and was now supporting your backside once again. His thrusts were kept short since he wanted to give your insides some time to get accustomed to his size once again, but the mix of your loud moans, tight insides, and lust-filled eyes was really pushing his buttons, and soon even he decided to drop the ‘nice boyfriend’ act and just go feral. 

He pulled almost his entire length out of you and thrust all of back in, the satisfyingly loud slap of his balls against your clenching folds nearly managed to get you over the edge, but you refused to finish so early in the game. Unfortunately for you, the man in front had complete control over your current situation, and all he wanted right now was to see you cum, so with a mischievous grin, he placed his finger on your clit and activated his quirk once more.

The precise and controlled shock which he aimed directly at your sensitive bud instantly made you cum; your eyelids fluttered shut while your eyes rolled back and all that pleasure overtook you to such an extent that your thighs trembled and twitched, causing the grip you had on your man’s hips to weaken further. Of course, your boyfriend was there to hold you up, but what he wanted most right now was to look into your hazy eyes and prolong your orgasm by continuing his brutal pace, even when your insides were squeezing him so tight that he had some evident struggle with pulling out.  

“Y-Yes D-Denki...just like- ah.. that!”

Even minutes after you had come down from your high, your body still felt the aftershocks of it, and the man’s continued usage of his power didn’t help you calm down at all, it was the exact opposite.

“A-Another one is...is coming-” 

“Oh yeah? Then let me switch things up a bit...” he answered as he took a firm hold of your hips and pulled his cock out from you. 

You whined at the loss and immediately reached for his shaft with your trembling hand, only to get it softly slapped away. 

“I’ll need you to behave babygirl, or else you can wait for another three weeks, got that?” he warned you with a raised eyebrow. 

Now that you had already cum once, all you desired was for him to flood your insides with his thick sperm, so if being obedient was going to help you reach that goal, you’d gladly behave.

Kaminari switched your positions and pushed your upper body forward so that you were forced to hold onto the curtain with one hand and take a firm hold of the bathtub’s edge with the other. While you were still struggling with positioning yourself comfortably, he ran his slim fingers alongside your back, letting his powers run free yet again. 

“This time...I’m going to make you pass out.”

Before you could ask what he meant with that declaration, the young man had buried himself balls-deep inside of your sloppy insides and began rocking his hips back and forth. The sweet mewls that reached his ears gave him yet another great idea on how he could make up for those three weeks of missed pleasure and teach you a small lesson for getting off by yourself like you had done some minutes ago. 

He slowed down and concentrated as much as possible as he activated his quirk for the last time.

“Denki, wh-aah!! G-God!! Ngh-aah…!”

Your sweet voice turned into a breathless raspy mess of syllables as you felt him sending a series of controlled shocks through his cock as well as both of his hands that were firmly holding onto your nipple and clit. Your second orgasm was approaching at a faster speed than the one from before...only this time, something else was building up as well.

“De-ahn..ki..pleaase...wha-wai-”

Forming coherent words became another challenge you were deemed to fail because your boyfriend had just reached the last spurt and seemingly needed only a few thrusts before finally reaching his long-awaited high as well. 

The moment his hot thick semen began entering your womb, your vision went black, and all you could hear was how the piece of cloth you had held on was ripped from its hooks. 

——

When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself on your knees, sitting in Kaminari’s lap, who embraced you from behind and gently caressed your head. 

“(Y/N), thank god you’re awake, I didn’t know what to do if you hadn’t woken up from that!” he exclaimed, visibly relieved. Your voice was so far gone though that you couldn’t muster an answer and just give him your typical questioning look, which demanded a résumé of what had transpired in the past few minutes.

“God how should I put this without embarrassing you too much...”, he began with a whisper, “..well you see...the moment I came inside of you, you came as well and uhh...you also kinda....s-squirted?”

After he said that, your face became redder than your favorite lingerie, and all you wanted was to go and crawl into a hole where nobody could find you, but the compassionate laugh of your boyfriend is what stopped these thoughts. 

He whispered sweet and encouraging lines and some small apologies in between, while he gently traced the kiss marks, he had left behind earlier, with his lips. 

Just as you were getting relaxed in his strong arms, a specific question of his once again caused your heart rate to quicken.

Ready for round two..?  

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chatper 8: Boundaries

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 8: Boundaries

Ronodin hadn’t returned, and said that he wouldn’t until tonight. Kendra had another day to whittle away. She read more in her book on the Fair Folk over breakfast, then sat in front of her crafting materials again.

Kendra had no idea if her medallion even worked, but at least it dried nicely. The wooden texture came through the paint, but that made it look functional. Like, hey, this is a wooden medallion meant to weaken my enemies, not be a high school shop class project.

Did she take woodshop class? Did she ever go to high school? From Ronodin’s story, Kendra probably had tutors. Why did she feel like she knew more about the American public school system than she did about monster hunting? Or even tutoring schedules?

Trying to figure out her past by evaluating what bodies of knowledge she possessed and what she didn’t left her with a headache.

Kendra refocused on the fabrics in front of her. She did okay with the medallion, maybe her body had remembered something her brain didn’t. Hopefully that subconscious knowledge would help her do what she wanted to make next: create a jacket.

Ronodin assured her that the clothes in her wardrobe were all hers, taken and given to Ronodin from her own closet for exactly this time. Pieces her family didn’t approve of and wouldn’t know to find missing. But old Kendra’s clothes…left a bit more exposed than she liked. Aside from also being mostly black and red, and she was really growing tired of those colors, the dresses were low cut at the top, and high cut around the thighs.

She looked sexy in them, but with Ronodin continuing to ‘forget’ that she had only met him two days ago, sexy wasn’t the look she wanted to wear. She’d start with a simple cardigan, covering up her shoulders and back, then see what she could do about altering hemlines.

Looking over the fabrics, she wished she had pink. She thought she liked the color. Pink wasn’t among the fabric options. There was more red and black, and white, silver, dark blue, green, orange, and dark purple.

Because it would clash horribly with the red and the black, she selected the pumpkin orange fabric. If she was enough of an eyesore, maybe she could convince Ronodin that they needed to pop into a shopping mall for a real wardrobe. Something she was comfortable with now. The orange fabric was a wool/giant hair blend, dyed with pigment from the Fala plant, that produced its own distractor spell to convince people that it was dead until they forgot what they were looking for.

Sewing was a lot harder than she thought, especially without a sewing machine. Did she do this by hand the first time? The needle felt so awkward, her stitches were uneven, she was approximating the designs in the book, but some of them had her folding fabric before cutting? What did it mean by grain? She tried to incorporate ‘make me look hideous!’ magic intentions as she sewed, imaging Ronodin cringing away from her, refusing to look at her in it, but it was a little hard when most of her focus went to not pricking herself.

Still, she wasn’t a quitter. Kendra had to undo a seam, because apparently clothes were assembled inside out, but by referencing the book every few minutes, and working through hand cramps, she managed to at least make the pieces stick together.

It was early afternoon when Kendra finished her uneven hems. Some of the tools in the basket might have helped her, but her books didn’t reference any of them, so she left them alone.

Holding up the final product, Kendra giggled. She’d done everything on larger estimates, figuring that her goal was to be covered and folds in fabric were easier to have than one side not fitting, and cutting down was easier than adding. The result could generously be described as an orange tent. Kendra had to see herself in the monstrosity. She rushed to the bathroom, passing Mendigo in the hall, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.

She slung on the cardigan over the black lace dress, and cracked up.

“Hi Ronodin!” Kendra waved to the mirror with both hands, one sleeve reaching halfway up her palm the other so wide it fell back against her elbow at the motion. The ruby necklace looked like it was suffering, trying to hide from her attempts at sewing.

“Oh, er Kendra, I see you tried sewing,” Kendra mocked in the mirror with a low voice.

Kendra twirled, then did an impression of herself with a higher pitch than normal, “I did, do you like it? I love it! I put soo much effort into it! I love the pumpkin look, don’t you?”

She imagined Ronodin’s face, the horror, the strain not to insult his girlfriend, and burst out laughing. Kendra couldn’t wait to see his face for real. She would insist on wearing this until he took her to the mall.

Kendra stopped laughing and frowned at her reflection. That really didn’t seem right. Even if she had arranged all of this herself, why would she arrange a hideout she couldn’t ever leave? If old Kendra had wanted to live a free life with Ronodin, why didn’t she pick a hide away that let her go outside? Her family couldn’t be powerful enough to search the whole world. If she had been able to pick anywhere, a remote island seemed like a much better hiding place than where she was.

Maybe she and Ronodin had had a disagreement over how long she should stay underground. He might be capitalizing on her memory loss to keep her extra safe; it’s possible Kendra had never intended for herself to remain sealed away. That seemed like something Ronodin would do. Slip in a little lie amongst the truths to save himself battles.

Well, wherever they were, Kendra wanted out. Now that she wasn’t dressed for a cocktail party, she would find her way to a window at least. She went back to her room, and decided to arm herself with the bow she had brought with her through the barrel, even though she didn’t have any arrows. She hadn’t had anything else on her, so she slipped on her shoes and went to the door that Ronodin usually walked out of.

She turned the heavy knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Jiggled it some more, but didn’t move. She searched everywhere for a key, but couldn’t find on. What kind of front door could be locked from the outside?

“Mendigo?” Kendra called, and her puppet came forward. “Open this door.”

Kendra stepped to the side as Mendigo started straining his wooden hands at the door. He turned back to her and shrugged, showing his wooden fingers. Duh, no way could he get the grip he needed that way.

Should she order him to break down the door? These rooms were rented to them by their mysterious ‘host’, who apparently had Ronodin working like a slave. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her busting his door down. She decided against it until things looked more dire.

The last hasty, destructive action she had ordered had almost killed her fiancé. She would demand a key from Ronodin when he got back before resorting to property damage.

“Thank you Mendigo,” Kendra said, “Let’s see what else there is in this place.” Putting her hand on the wall to the left of the door, Kendra started walking, never lifting it. She discovered three different storage closets: one for cleaning supplies, one empty, one for linens. Kitchen, Ronodin’s bedroom (extremely frugal, disappointingly empty) (he had a couple of robes Kendra considered using to augment her own wardrobe, but decided that would send the wrong message), Library, bathroom, craft room, Kendra’s room, Kendra’s bathroom, Kendra’s closet, sitting room/front room, and back to the main door.

That was it. The entirety of her existence, done up in blacks, reds, and gray stone and drenched in blue firelight. Some of the carpets had cream accents, but that was it.

Kendra knew what kind of front door locked from the outside.

She wandered back to her craft room and picked up a canvas to draw. This was about passing time. Next time she wouldn’t let Ronodin leave without her. Kendra just needed to stay sane until he got back. Even if practicing her magic with nicer emotions would create a less effective item, she wanted something nice to look at. Something peaceful. An outdoor scene, and she’d try to work peace into it. It was for herself anyway, and she’d do it in blue and green and white, and it would look beautiful.

Unfortunately, Kendra couldn’t visualize what ‘outside’ looked like. She knew the sky was blue, it had a sun, and grass was green and flowers came in all colors, but the pieces wouldn’t put themselves together. Kendra had never seen ‘outside’, she had nothing but rote facts. She put her pencil to canvas anyway, figuring that if she drew the pieces, it would all come together eventually.

Her hand refused to move. It had no direction on what to draw. Were horizons bumpy or straight? What color blue was the sky? What did sun look like on plant leaves?

Glaring, Kendra started sketching her craft table, in front of her, with the wall behind it turning into prison bars. She’d seen those in her mad-dash self-kidnapping.

Sketching came easier than sewing or carving. Maybe because more art principals were known by the public, the curse wasn’t able to remove them as personal memories. It was nice to have something come together, even if it was only a picture of her cell.

When she got to painting, she ignored the descriptions of materials and focused on colors. Easier than before, she took threads of magic, threads of the flame from the candle inside her, into her hand and turned them to her own emotions, mixing with the paint materials. She wanted people to look at the painting and know that she was trapped. She wanted them to know the suffocation, and the feeling of crafting little trinkets while sun and stars roved the heavens unseen. Not being able to draw the sun or the sky. Not knowing what those looked like. Not knowing what anything looked like outside of six people, a puppet, and her prison. It was a nice prison, possibly one of the nicest in the world.

Kendra painted black beyond the bars. Even gilded cages birthed insanity.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Why again do you have to get up this early on a bloody Saturday?" Jorien groaned quietly from her spot hidden under the covers in her bed, while Cas was still sleeping soundly as ever in her own. It wasn't even dawning yet, still hours until breakfast, but Robin had been up for a while already and was just now returning from getting ready in the bathroom.

"I told you, I'm going on a field trip for my research." Robin whispered back, while she got dressed in some slim fitting black jeans that were comfortable enough to move in and sturdy enough to suit the occasion. "We need to get going before the sun is up."

"You're crazy." Jorien groaned again and dug her head into her pillow, face down. "Hwow gih juh gweh hwiwh gu gwu gwif whih juh?"

"What?" Robin hissed back with a questioning frown, while she layered her favorite jumper over a long sleeved shirt and then went to put her hair up into a ponytail that ended up more messy than neat.

Jorien turned her head back to the side with a sigh. "How did you get him to do this with you?" She repeated her question tiredly, but with a spark of sincere curiosity nonetheless. "Snape, I mean."

"I didn't get him to do anything." Robin shrugged in return and sat down on her bed to lace up her boots. "I did a lot of research over the summer and I showed it to him last week. He made me show it to Dumbledore and that settled the issue."

"So it's just you and him today, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I would say poor you, but I get the impression that you are rather happy about it."

"I am. He is the only one who understands what we're dealing with; it would be a true nuisance to have to explain it all to someone else." Robin replied easily as she finally went to put on her rain jacket instead of her robes for once. The highlands were no place for a cloud of fabric that would soak through in under a minute. Then she hid her wand up her sleeve as always, and finally grabbed her backpack from the end of her bed. All set to go. "Wish me luck!"

"What do you need luck for?" Jorien yawned and hugged her pillow under her head. "I thought you guys know what you're doing."

"Obviously we know that we're going." Robin rolled her eyes with a smile. "But we're doing this entire thing to prove a theory, which means that there is a chance that I was wrong and we won't find what we're looking for."

"Alright… good luck then." The girl yawned again, and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Am glad that Snape is there to bring you back in one piece. McGonagall says you're a magnet for trouble and the obscure."

"Does she now?" Robin's lips quirked into a smirk, but she could tell that Jorien was already falling back asleep. She didn't want to seize any more of her sleep though, and thus she finally made for the door, leaving a few minutes earlier than planned. Oh well... One didn't leave adventure waiting.

… … …

Robin met Snape at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led out of the dungeons. He was wearing different robes than usual, warmer ones, and Robin found herself glad that she wasn't the only one who had planned for a long day out in the cold. They greeted each other with a silent gaze that said enough, then made their way through the empty hallways and out into the courtyard.

The very second Robin stepped out into the open, she realized that it had been a good idea to wear her jacket and not the robes. It wasn't raining yet, but the air smelled of water, soil and electricity in a way that went beyond the morning dew, and the grey sky waiting for the break of dawn was an envoy no less of the impending storm. She breathed in deeply, and had to smile. This was the best birthday present ever.

They had to leave the school grounds in order to apparate to their first destination of the day, and thus they didn't waste any time to make their way down the path to wander beyond the gates. Still, neither spoke a word, and neither did they have to. The serenity of the morning was too calm, too peaceful to disturb with any words spoken in redundancy. They would have all day to chat if they fancied to; why waste words when the silence was enough for now?

It had all been discussed in advance anyway; both Thursday and Friday night, they had sat over Robin's documentations and discussed their options for which plant they should try to find, and thus which theory to prove. They obviously had been limited to the British isles for reasons of time and distance, and also to the acquisition of a plant on Dumbledore's wish. That, and some ambition on Robin's part, had led to their current target and thus their plan of action: they would try to find wraiths' moss today. And ambitious that was indeed, but Robin felt like she had something to prove; to Snape, to Dumbledore and mostly to herself.

It didn't take them long to get away from the castle, to a place beyond the gates where they finally stopped in their track. There was no need to haste, they still had enough time before sunrise. But as they had discovered on multiple occasions, they both preferred being too early over being too late in situations that actually mattered.

This time when Snape held his hand out to Robin, she didn't hesitate to take it. She might be old enough to legally apparate by herself now, but she still had to wait until after the Christmas break to take the twelve week class to get her license to do so, to officially learn to do so. Until then, she would gladly enjoy the privilege of holding his hand for the fleeting moment of traveling. However, even now, she had to painfully remind herself to refrain from lacing their fingers together, a gesture way too intimate to be anywhere near appropriate, and yet one that most of her being was trying to urge her into anyway. But she did hold on tightly, for safety reasons, and was barely able to catch the not-smirk on his lips before the world was torn into a swirling storm of colors and strange sensations.

When Robin's eyes went into focus again, she found herself overlooking the vast sea, and to her great luck a whipping wind blew away most of her nausea after a few seconds of struggling to stay standing upright. She let out a groan as she closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the churning of her stomach while she focused on taking deep breaths. Then she looked back ahead.

They were standing high up on the edge of a cliff, over three hundred meters above the furious black waters that were relentlessly crashing against the solid rock below. The vastly desolate grassland behind their backs was but an illusion of peace in contrast to the ragged and riven stone wall that dropped in a straight vertical a mere two steps ahead. The Scottish east coast; their first destination.

As soon as the dizziness was gone to the point where she didn't feel like she would break down any second, Robin let go of Snape's hand with a silent sigh. The few seconds of having his skin touching hers had once again sufficed to leave her entire self consumed by ridiculous rushes of energy and tingles, but she pushed it to the back of her mind for now in order to do her work. That's what they were here for, after all, to gather the petals of a Haramith flower.

Haramith itself was a plant rather useless for potion making, and thus generally not something anyone would have in stock, but it was essential for Robin's theory on how to find the wraiths' moss. Getting the petals was only step one of many on the road Robin had built in theory to acquire one of the rarest mosses in this part of the world, and now with every step they followed through with successfully, they paved a bit more of that theoretical road into reality.

The good thing about Haramith was that it grew in many places, wildy sprawling on even the poorest soil, and thus it generally wasn't too hard to find. The bad thing however, and the very reason why Snape and Robin had come to a desolate cliff on the eastern shore of the country before sunrise, was that Haramith only blossomed for one single minute of the day. It grew its petals when the sun rose over the horizon, no matter if a single ray of sunshine even graced the earth that day or not, only to lose the petals again after exactly one minute. And when the petals died, they faded into dust within seconds. Which, precisely, was what made it nigh impossible to gather them if one didn't come prepared, which in this case meant knowing exactly when the sun would peek over the horizon. And where better to be precise about that than on the shore?

Robin moved along the very edge of the cliff, looking down the stone wall in search for any specimen of the desired plant she would be able to reach when the sun would rise in approximately two minutes. Due to their sun oriented nature, Haramith flowers were prone to grow on walls like this that were open to the east; at least that's what Robin had read. Indeed, it didn't take her long to find a small patch of green between the ragged stone, but it was further down the wall than she was able to reach. However luck was on her side for once.

"There's a ledge a bit further down the wall." Robin said, looking back over her shoulder at Snape while she took off her backpack and set it down at a good distance to the edge. "We don't have much time left, and there's plenty of Haramith down there. I'm going."

For a moment Snape looked like he wanted to protest, a deep frown settling on his face, but then he moved to stand next to Robin instead of voicing a complaint and glanced down the wall for a second before his eyes were back on her. "Be careful, yes?"

Robin nodded with a small smile, then sat down with her legs dangling over the edge and finally pushed herself over entirely. It really wasn't a far drop, she landed on her feet without any effort and crouched down immediately to keep her weight close to the wall and her body's centre of gravity as low as possible. She wasn't an expert in rock climbing, but she had read about it at some point and she usually remembered what she had read. That really came in handy at times.

Just in the moment she reached out to touch the Haramith, the small flowers beneath her fingertips started to stir. Her eyes widened immediately, and she couldn't help the small smile that fell onto her lips when tiny beads of bright ultramarine started to blossom out of the greyish green stems. It was a beautiful sight, watching them grow and gain in size while never losing their delicacy. After but a moment they were at their final but oh so fleeting state, and Robin almost felt sad to pluck out the petals. But they would grow new ones tomorrow morning, and every day after that as well, so it was more gain to her than loss to them.

Carefully, she placed the fragile objects in a vial she pulled out of her pocket, gathering quite as many petals as she could before all too soon, the remaining ones turned into dust right beneath her fingertips. The ones she had collected however remained perfectly intact, their bright ultramarine piercing her eyes in contrast to her ashen skin as she closed the vial at last and put it back into her pocket. Good… now she just needed to get back up the cliff somehow.

An idea entered her mind, a stupid idea, and she pulled her wand out of her sleeve before she could think better of it, pointed it upwards and closed her eyes for a second in a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Then a wordless ascendio sent her upwards, lifting her over the edge of the cliff and unfortunately even higher, which made the landing quite unpleasant, as she came crashing down onto the grass with a dull thud.

"Bloody hell, I've always hated that charm…" She grumbled to herself, sitting up on the ground with a quiet groan as she rubbed her hurting limbs.

"You could have asked me to help you, you know…" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her, mildly amused by the sight in front of him.

"And you would have done so without mocking me for the next few hours? Doubt it." Robin replied with a small snort, and still let him help her up to her feet the next moment. "I've got the petals, plenty of them even."

"Good." He mused with a not-smirk, observing how Robin dusted off her jeans. "Shall we proceed to the next destination then?"

"Yeah, just… give me a second to breathe between jumping down a cliffside, flying through the air and crashing down on the ground, before apparating again." She sighed, then went to pick up her backpack to throw it back over her shoulders. "Next time, you can do all that and I'll stand up here and watch."

"Professor's privilege. I get to let others do the… unpleasant work." He shrugged with a real smirk now. "However it isn't nearly as entertaining to watch the dunderheads as it is to observe you."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or flattered by that." Robin laughed and shook her head to herself, biting her bottom lip as she had to grin at her own thought. "It certainly is more flattering than what Alexander said to me on Thursday."

"You are aware that I could push you off this cliff in an instant for comparing me to that imbecile, yes?"

"And you're aware that you would be terribly bored without me." Robin quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk. "Besides, there are four people at least who would most likely come at you if you pushed me off that cliff."

"They obviously do not know you half as well as I do if they would seriously hold it against me." He replied in an instant, and Robin's jaw dropped, a second before she had to laugh. Alright, perhaps he had won that round… which only meant she had to switch the game.

"Fine, do it then." She shrugged with a daring expression, showing but exaggerated casualness as she made calculated steps backwards, blindly nearing the drop with every word while her eyes stayed on his. "I'll even make it easier for you, if you want to get rid of me quite so desperately that-..."

His hand was around her wrist in an instant, pulling her away from the edge while he shot her a glare that was both warning and plea to stop. They both knew that they had walked the line between tease and seriousness too far; it was time to stop, time to return from the place they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry." Robin was the first to speak, in a whisper only, as she stood a mere step in front of him now. She gave him a sad half smile, but didn't miss the fact that he was still holding onto her wrist as if he was actually afraid she would jump over the edge if he let go. "Sometimes I just…"

"I know." He replied almost calmly, without a trace of actual anger. "But you are right. I would indeed be terribly bored without you."

Robin's smile lost its sadness in an instant, but her heart gained a fullness and warmth instead that made it beat so strongly, she was sure he must've heard it. Still, she would spare him any teases in return for once; if he was being sincere, she would be too. "Good. I would've hated to be the only one who would miss this."

For once he did smile too, a little at least, and he still held onto her wrist, consciously or not. "Are you ready to proceed to the next destination now?"

Robin nodded, upon which he moved his hand from her wrist down to hold hers again, making her heart flutter even more at the deliberately slow touch. But instead of focusing on it, she closed her eyes and prepared for the oddness of apparating, with a frown on her face in anticipation of the discomfort that would soon follow.

"I very likely should not be telling you this before you pass the according class..." He sighed, and Robin quirked an eyebrow but kept her eyes closed nonetheless. "But there are a few things you can do to make the process of apparating less… unpleasant."

"Enlighten me."

"Release the tension in your body, and try to keep it at that state. Clear your mind but for the place you wish to go." He ordered, and Robin tried to focus on relaxing every muscle but the ones in her hand that were needed to hold onto his. "Breathe in deeply, then out again and hold your breath. Keep your eyes closed."

She did as she was told, and an instant later she felt the strange pulling and pushing sensation around her again, the swirling in her mind however was a lot milder already, and the cramping of her stomach barely even there. Before she knew, her feet were on solid ground again, and while her head was very mildly spinning, she didn't feel sick at all when she opened her eyes. Her lips curled into a wide smile.

"I actually didn't experience the discomfort! That's incredible!" Robin beamed up at Snape, who in return rolled his eyes with a not-smirk.

"Bold of you to doubt me." He replied, and this time it was him who let go of Robin's hand first. Not in a haste, but rather because it was the right thing to do. "However I still do hope that this was the second to last time we apparate today."

"Since it doesn't make me feel sick anymore, I actually don't mind it quite as much." She grinned back at him, and only then at last she took the time to look around.

They were standing in the open space of a valley in the middle of the highlands, precisely where they had planned to go. Hills, mountains, stone and green, topped off only by the low hanging grey clouds that came down almost as a shallow mist. Perfect. If it hadn't been for their mission, Robin could've stayed here for hours to drink in the overwhelming beauty of nature. But they had work to do.

"Since you were so keen on helping me earlier, why don't you work the tracing spell now?" Robin quirked an eyebrow at Snape, of course with the ever teasing smirk still playing on her lips, while she took a step away from him to take off her backpack.

"You are insufferable." He rolled his eyes in return, but still took the handbook out of Robin's hand when she held it out to him. "But if you cannot do even this simplest of spells by yourself…"

"You bloody well know I can." She replied with an easy smile; she also knew for a fact that he was just trying to mess with her. But he wouldn't succeed this time.

Without letting his teasing distract her in the slightest, Robin summoned a larger jar which they had prepared in advance last night out of her backpack. Four out of five ingredients for the tracing spell were already inside, perfectly measured of course, and when Robin crouched down to place the whole thing on the ground, she pulled the Haramith petals out of her pocket to add the fifth at last.

"Do you think I can add all of them?" She asked on a whim though, with an inquiring look up at Snape. "I mean… Do you think the measurement of the Haramith even has any impact on the results in this case? I did calculate a specific amount, but measuring it would be such a hassle out here. And now that I think about it, I see no reason why a precise measurement would be necessary in this case. What do you think?"

"It is your tracing spell and your preparation; why are you asking me?"

"Well sorry, but last time I checked you were the potions master." Robin rolled her eyes at him, even if the gesture felt a little silly while kneeling on the ground and looking up at him like that. "Besides, I wasn't asking because you would know any better than me, but because I care about your opinion. But I could also stay sitting on the cold ground to measure the damn thing, if you'd prefer that."

"I believe you could add the entire Haramith without any negative impact."

"Thank you! Was that really so hard?" Robin replied with a smile, before she carefully shook out the petals from the vial into the larger jar. Measuring the flimsy little things would have taken ages indeed, and the knees of her jeans were sodden already.

Without wasting time, she then went ahead to shred all ingredients into tiny pieces until they were a mere blended dust of the same piercing ultramarine as the Haramith itself. So far so good. Before she handed the jar with the mixture to Snape however, she filled a small amount of the dust into the now empty vial, closing it up tightly before she sorted it into a shelf inside her backpack. When she rose to her feet again, Snape shot her a questioning look while she handed him the jar at last.

"I just thought in case this actually works, or even in case it doesn't, it would be nice to have a reference for the next time either way." She shrugged, holding onto the straps of her backpack that she'd placed back over her shoulders. "There's always something to improve on, you know…"

He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, holding her gaze for a moment before he finally placed the jar on a rock next to him, then flipped her book open at the marked page that described the tracing spell. It was an uncommon charm, woven together quite messily at the first glance, but it was the best one Robin had found. Snape made quick work of it, speaking the foreign words so easily as if for the millionth time, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the bright blue dust that rose up into the air in a faint line upon the sound of his voice. It was working… bloody hell, it was actually working!

Robin followed the line in the sky with her eyes up to the point where it faded in the distance, then she looked back to Snape with an excited smile. "Ready for a little walk?"

"I am right behind you."

… … …

Walking they did then, following the blue line that faded behind them only to grow longer in front of them in return. Wherever it was leading, their destination was further away than anticipated. After three hours of scrambling through the sheer endless grass and rock, it finally started to rain as if the skies had turned into a waterfall, and they decided to take a break under a small ledge. It wasn't much, but the driest space they had been able to find before hell broke loose. To Robin's great luck, the tracing spell seemed to be entirely unbothered by the train, as the powdery line still remained hanging in the air as clear and smoky as ever. But what use would its persistence be if water in their eyes made it impossible to follow? Even more impossible without getting hurt out there. Thus a break it was, to wait for the worst to pass. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes… the weather in Scotland never stayed the same for long.

The long walk had taken a toll on both of them already, as neither was used to this kind of exercise, but Robin was too determined to see this through, too stubborn to admit that she was exhausted, and she assumed Snape simply was too proud to. It didn't matter either way, she was only glad to be sitting on the insulated blanket that she'd placed on the ground now, and Snape seemed to be equally appreciating of it as he sat next to her with a more or less content expression. Robin still couldn't quite believe that he was actually putting up with all this for her theory. Perhaps even for her as a person. And he seemed to be enjoying himself even!

Sighing quietly in contentment, Robin leaned back against the cold stones behind her and watched the rain. Yes, she was enjoying this. More than she could put into any words.

"I would like to think that the sound of the rain is the universe applauding us." She said instead, with a small smile at the wall of water before she looked over at Snape next to her. "Rain is so full of life, I don't know why people won't appreciate it more."

"Most people see the world differently than you do."

"What about you? Do you see it differently?"

"I used to believe it to be a terribly unfair place. Cold and cruel and indifferent to those who live in it."

Robin's heart squeezed together in a stab of sadness. She hadn't meant to upset him… but the longer she observed his expression, the more she got the impression that he was still calm and content as before. Curious. "You used to believe that? And… what do you believe now?"

"I don't know. The world will always be indifferent to us, but I am not so certain I still stand behind the rest of it."

"Well, it certainly is cold now… With the rain and wind and all that." Robin mused with a small smile, giving him a look that hopefully conveyed lighthearted humor better than her words did. Indeed, a hint of a smile graced his lips in return, and she decided to go on. "But when I think of the laboratory, for example… a crackling red in the fireplace, mixing with the faint bubbling of whatever potion we're making that day and the sound of your voice when you're annoyed with me, but also a silence made of softest velvet. It smells like coffee and books and fire and stone and all the subtle nuances in the potions' fumes. We sit at the table and wait and read and drink coffee and talk, until the next step has to be taken. When I think of that… the world, to me, is nothing but warmth."

A moment of silence followed upon her words, a thoughtful and contemplating silence, which was only broken when the rain lessened and Snape replied at last. "Perhaps you are what renders it warm."

It? The lab? The world? Her own perception? "Perhaps." She replied. Perhaps, his world as well. She shook the thought out of her head as soon as it appeared. Wrong direction to go into, and the wrong time to do so as well. They were here to work. Not to dwell on impossibilities.

_____________________________

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[calwrites]

The Masked Singer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: The team has become obsessed with The Masked Singer, an extremely silly singing competition about trying to guess what celebrity is singing behind a mask. Imagine Spencer’s surprise when he hears a familiar voice.

Warnings: none (unless you count bad writing lol)

Word Count: 6.2k

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

Spencer wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but it had. The team was obsessed with The Masked Singer. One morning, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia had been talking about it before they had to brief a new case. Apparently they had found the first season online after they had too many glasses of wine and had made it through half the episodes in one night.

“It’s just trying to guess what famous person is singing while wearing a mask?” Morgan had asked. “That doesn’t sound very hard.”

“Yeah it should be obvious, but it’s not and that’s what makes it so addicting. They disguise their voices when they talk and they give you these cryptic clues about who they are.”

Emily nodded along to Penelope’s point. “Plus the judges’ guesses are everywhere, which doesn’t help.”

“Maybe you should watch, Morgan. Put those profiling skills to use,” JJ teased.

Derek was opening his mouth to respond when Hotch walked into the room. “Unfortunately, we have a case that needs our profiling skills.”

Spencer thought that would be the last of it. They spent the next few days tracking down another serial killer, and he was looking forward to relaxing on the jet on the way home. Maybe he’d read for a bit if no one wanted to play chess with him. What he wanted more than anything, though, was to be able to go home to Y/N. But he couldn’t.

His thoughts of you were interrupted by Penelope popping up on a screen. “I have a wonderful surprise for my favorite crime fighters.”

“Well don’t just tease us, baby girl,” Derek prompted when Garcia paused for dramatic effect. Instead of answering, Garcia started playing something on another screen.

“Oh there was a new episode on last night,” Emily said excitedly. “No one looked up who was unmasked, right?” After getting verbal confirmation that no one had looked up who was unmasked the previous night, Emily and JJ gave the rest of the team a short rundown of who had already been sent home.

“And people actually agree to do this?” Rossi asked in disbelief when they were done. The girls ignored him, focusing instead on the show. Rossi and Morgan shrugged at each other, but Spencer could tell that they were both a little curious about the show.

“I know Donny Osmond, and that is definitely Donny Osmond,” Rossi yelled approximately twenty minutes later. “Just look at how he walks.”

“I think it should be cheating for Rossi to guess when he might actually know some of these people,” Derek complained. Emily and JJ both nodded in agreement, so Derek turned to Hotch. “Hotch?”

“It’s cheating.” Hotch was trying to seem like he wasn’t also paying too much attention to the show, but he wasn’t doing a very good job. Rossi threw his hands up and started arguing his case, but JJ shushed him as the clues for the next performer started.

And just like that, the team had a new tradition. Garcia would play any episodes they missed when they were on the jet on the way home from a case. If they were without a case when there was a new episode, they would get together at someone’s house, usually Rossi’s, to watch it as it aired.

Emily and Derek were probably the best at guessing correctly, but Rossi sometimes had the advantage of actually knowing the celebrity behind the mask. Hotch and JJ blamed their incorrect guesses on not having time to stay up to date on celebrities because of their kids. Most of the time, Spencer didn’t even bother guessing. He had no idea who most of the celebrities were, but he enjoyed watching as the rest of the team got into trying to figure it out. Garcia had been banned from guessing after the team found out she was doing her own research. She had tried to argue that if they could use their super profiling powers, she could use her internet sleuthing powers, but the others weren’t having it.

Spencer had mentioned the show to you when you two were on the phone chatting before he went over to Rossi’s for the season 2 premiere. Curious about the show that managed to captivate and puzzle actual FBI profilers, you had decided to start watching on your own. Now, you and Spencer discussed the show whenever you had both watched the new episodes. It was nice having something new besides work to talk about. Of course, you, like Rossi, had the advantage of actually knowing some of the celebrities.

“How did you know it was Sherri Shepherd?” Spencer asked you after he got back from Rossi’s one night. “You said you knew it was her from the first time you heard her sing.”

You laughed at the frustration in your boyfriend’s voice. More than anything, you wanted to be cuddled up with him on the couch. But you were on opposite coasts, so imagining his furrowed brow would have to do. “I’ve met Sherri Shepherd. I’ve been on The View. Or did you not watch that interview?”

You were just teasing him. You knew that Spencer watched every interview you did. He was the most supportive boyfriend ever, even though you knew that some of the answers you had to give in interviews hurt him. Every time you were asked about dating, you had to give an answer like ‘No one special,’ ‘Not looking for anything right now,’ ‘Too busy to start anything.’ Truthfully, you were too busy to start a new relationship. You were constantly filming a new movie, doing press for a new movie, or getting ready for a new movie. Plus, you already had a boyfriend. Why would you want another one?

It was hard being away from Spencer so much, but you both knew that it was what was best for your career right now. You had met Spencer when you were a struggling actor who had just finished filming your first major movie. Now, you were an Oscar winner who was constantly getting offers. Spencer had told you that you needed to take advantage of those offers to really cement your place in Hollywood. You had both decided that the best way to keep each other safe, from both the media and psychopaths with grudges, was not to go public with your relationship.

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

It was over three years ago. You had just finished filming in DC. Most of the cast and crew had already gone back to LA or wherever they called home, but you had decided to stay in DC for a few more days to unwind before going back to your empty apartment in New York. It was probably about time to accept the fact that you should move out to LA, but you preferred the East Coast to the West.

You wandered through a park, when a cluster of chess tables caught your eye. More specifically, one man sitting at the chess tables. He looked to be about your age, but what made you watch him was the way he was playing three games at once. And winning them all. When the games were over, his opponents all grumbled as they walked away, leaving the man looking at the boards almost sadly.

You knew how to play chess, but you wouldn’t say that you were great. Still, you had to talk to this guy. So you sat down across from him, startling him as he replaced all of the pieces to their starting positions. He blinked at you in surprise instead of saying anything, so you took the lead, moving a pawn out first.

The two of you played in silence for a few turns. You smiled every time you caught him looking at you, and he blushed every time he was caught. He was cute. You quickly realized that you had no chance of winning, so you abandoned any sort of strategy and began moving pieces at random. You watched as he became more and more confused at your moves.

“It’s going to be a tie,” he said finally. His voice was lovely. “I mean, I could still win, but looking at our moves throughout the game, it seems most likely that it’s going to be a tie.”

“Is there any way I could win?” Truthfully, you hadn’t even been expecting a tie, but you wanted him to keep talking.

He shook his head. “No. You actually had a decent chance of winning until I took your rook four turns ago. If you had moved your queen instead, then I would have had to move my knight, leaving my king open to check.”

You blinked at the man for a moment. “Do you remember every move we made?”

He nodded shyly. “I have an eidetic memory.” You had no idea what that was, but it sounded impressive. At your blank look, he launched into an explanation of an eidetic memory and how it was different from a photographic memory. You weren’t really sure what he was saying, but you liked listening to him.

“So, it’s probably going to be a draw,” he finished shyly, painfully aware that he had just spent way too long explaining something to you that he hadn’t asked him to explain. To his surprise, you grinned at him, taking his breath away.

“Well, I was going to say that if I win you have to tell me your name, and if you win I have to tell you my name. Since it’s a draw, I guess we’ll both have to tell each other our names. I’m Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, but he looked at it awkwardly.

“Considering how many pathogens are passed during a handshake, it’s actually safer to kiss. I’m Spencer,” he continued quickly as a blush spread across your cheeks.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Spencer. Honestly, I feel a little bit like I cheated. I started moving pieces randomly after about three turns.” Spencer looked shocked at your admission before he started laughing. “To make it up to you, can I buy you dinner tonight?” You were a little shocked at your own confidence, but thankfully Spencer seemed to like it.

“Only if I can buy you a coffee now.” You had agreed, obviously. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, getting to know each other. By dinner, it was like you had known each other forever. You had stayed in touch when you had to go back to New York. Spencer didn’t have a lot of free time, but you didn’t have any jobs at the moment, so you went down to DC whenever possible.

You and Spencer had only been officially dating for two weeks when your movie premiered. You weren’t ready for the media to scrutinize you two, and Spencer wasn’t ready for his coworkers to profile you, so you had agreed to keep your relationship on the down low.

Then you name blew up. The reviews for your movie, and your performance in particular, were glowing. People started suggesting an Oscar nomination for you. You started getting offers for roles your couldn’t refuse. So you packed up your life in New York and moved out to LA. You and Spencer talked all the time. He had even started texting you. Plus, you flew to DC whenever possible to be with him, even if it was just for a few hours. But it was still hard for you two to be apart for so long.

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

The season premiere of Masked Singer is tonight. Maybe you guys can watch it on the plane.

 Spencer read your message and smiled. You knew it had been a tough case without him even having to say it. Sometimes he thought you could read his mind. You had a way of always knowing what he needed, even when he didn’t know.

 A new season of their favorite show was just what the team needed. Spencer sent a quick text to Penelope to ask if it was possible for them to watch the show on the jet as it aired. She had responded not to underestimate her, which worried Spencer slightly.

 The team sat in silence for a few minutes, the engine the only sound, until the screens came to life and the opening for The Masked Singer appeared. “I forgot this was coming back tonight,” JJ sighed in relief as the rest of the team smiled at the show. They settled in, ready to start trying to profile the celebrities in wacky costumes.

“And now, our very own royal contestant: The Queen,” the host said as a new clue package began to play. Spencer stiffened as The Queen began to talk. Despite the voice modification, Spencer could recognize the way you spoke. Your word choice. Your cadence. Even the way you walked onto the stage. Everything screamed Y/N. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the mask you had chosen. It was like the top of the queen chess piece. Not the mention the tight white costume looked great on you. What would really confirm Spencer’s theory was your singing, so he waited with baited breath and hoped no one on the plane would notice his sudden heightened interest.

“If I should stay, I would only be in your way.” Spencer’s breath caught.

“Aww. Whitney,” Derek exclaimed. The rest of the team joined in with similar comments of surprise and joy as the music joined your voice on screen, but Spencer was too focused on you to notice them.

As he watched, it was like the cape on your shoulders turned into the blanket he kept on his couch that you had wrapped around yourself. The microphone became a spatula that you held to you mouth instead of using it to flip the pancakes, belting this very song much to his neighbors’ annoyance. It was a scene he was used to, having seen it many times.

“That was amazing. There’s no way you’re not winning this season. But I have no idea who you are,” one judge said when you were done. The other judges echoed similar thoughts before they all started throwing around some possible names. Spencer smiled to himself as his teammates were similarly confused. No one mentioned your name. And they probably never would.

You were very insecure about your singing voice, though Spencer often told you that you shouldn’t be. However, you never even mentioned singing in any interviews, and you didn’t sing in front of anyone that wasn’t Spencer.

“So what brought you onto The Masked Singer?” one judge asked.

“I’m actually a big fan of the show, but the real reason was because it’s my boyfriend’s favorite show. I wanted to surprise him.” Your voice shook nervously as you spoke. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was because you had stage fright or because you had publicly announced that you had a boyfriend for the first time. Not that anyone knew it was you. You and Spencer had been talking about going public with your relationship for a few months now, but you had both always found reasons to keep putting it off. Spencer knew what you were doing. Once you were unmasked, you would have to acknowledge that you had a boyfriend.

Of course, some part of Spencer’s mind reminded him that all of this was filmed in advance. There were people somewhere who knew that you were The Queen and that you had a boyfriend. Spencer just hoped that the NDAs that they had signed were enough to keep that from getting out before the episode aired. Not that he had time to worry about that. You were still talking to the judges.

“Do you think he’s going to be surprised when you’re unmasked eventually? Not that that’s going to happen any time soon.”

“Definitely not. He probably knew it was me the minute I walked on the stage. Plus, he has to hear me sing all the time when I’m home.” It made Spencer’s heart soar hearing you refer to his little apartment as home. You spent more time in your Beverly Hills house than his apartment, but whenever you talked about going home, Spencer knew you were talking about getting back to DC. Getting back to him.

As the rest of the team continued to discuss guesses about your identity, Spencer pulled out his phone to text you.

The Queen sounded amazing.

Spencer knew that, wherever you were, you would smile when you read that text.

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

Pretty soon, the new episodes of The Masked Singer were the highlight of Spencer’s week. He was always antsy when they couldn’t watch an episode when it aired, desperate to make sure that you hadn’t been eliminated yet. He loved watching as your confidence in your voice and you stage presence grew.

Surprisingly, it was after you did a cover of Heart of Glass by Blondie that the switch flipped. Spencer could pinpoint the moment it happened. Your performance became electric and there seemed to be a pull, even in the jet, that drew everyone to you.

Spencer had seen it happen before. About a year after you had started dating, you and Spencer had met up in New York for a weekend. Spencer was in awe of the way you managed to seem completely normal, allowing the eyes of all the tourists to slide right over you, despite the fact that your face was on a billboard in Times Square.

The two of you were eating lunch in a pizza restaurant. Spencer had wanted to do research to find the best place to eat, but you had pulled him into a random place. Although he hated to admit it, the pizza was really good.

It was easy to hear the conversation of the two girls, high school students if Spencer had to guess, in the nearly empty restaurant. Spencer saw the look of joy on your face when you realized that the girls were talking about your movie. You both had to smile that they were now talking about how obsessed they were with you when they had walked past you a minute ago without even realizing it.

You looked at your boyfriend with an unspoken question in your eye. Spencer nodded his head at the girls, letting you know that he didn’t mind if you went over to talk to them. As you stood up, it was like the air around you changed. There was no difference in the way you held yourself. If Spencer believed in things like vibes, he would have said that you just started giving off a different vibe. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you.

You spoke to the girls for a few minutes before taking some pictures with them and returning to your table. You seemed unaware of the effect you had on everyone, but Spencer couldn’t shake a strange feeling. It was like for the first time he had seen Y/N Y/L/N instead of his girlfriend Y/N. When you finally got Spencer to tell you what was bothering him later that night, you had confided in him that you often felt intimidated when he talked about his job.

The two of you had grown past that as your relationship went on, but it was strange seeing the effect that you had on his friends.

The closest he got to spilling your secret was the next week. As you got closer to the finale, the competition began heating up. In an effort to prove that you were more than just a good voice, you had chosen 1,2 Step, complete with your own twist on the iconic, according to you since Spencer didn’t really know, choreography from the music video.

“She has some serious stamina,” Emily commented as you got through the rap flawlessly despite all of the dancing you were doing. Spencer knew all about your stamina.

“And look at how her body moves. She can dance.” Spencer’s fist clenched at Derek’s comment. He knew that Derek didn’t mean anything by it. Your body moved fluidly through the dance. It was easy to see in the tight costume you wore. But something seemed to burn inside Spencer as he watched Derek watch you. He wanted nothing more than to tell Derek that last weekend he had used his stamina to keep you up until the early hours of the morning.

But Spencer stopped himself. You had said that you had a plan for telling people about your relationship. He just had to wait for you to put that plan into motion.

The judges were still clueless about your true identity, though Spencer still thought that all of the clues should have made it extremely obvious. Still, it was amusing listening to their guesses.

“I think-no, I know who this is.” Spencer settled in, ready to hear Ken Jeong’s latest wild guess. Last week he had been sure that you were Leona Lewis and the week before it was Mariah Carey. “This is Y/N Y/L/N.”

Spencer tried not to react as everyone in the jet, and on the screen, shook their heads at Ken’s guess.

“Y/N doesn’t sing,” one judge told Ken as another said, “Y/N’s not a singer. No way.”

“But Y/N won an Oscar for her role as a queen. Plus, and stay with me here, in the clue package we’ve seen things about agents. She has an agent, who gets her roles and probably got her on this show, so welcome to the show Y/N Y/L/N.”

“The Queen is in a long term relationship, and Y/N isn’t dating anyone,” one judge pointed out. The other two judges nodded along, so Ken gave up his fight. Spencer realized that, if anything, Ken guessing it was you would convince people that it couldn’t possibly be you.

“Hey, Spence, didn’t you have a little celebrity crush on Y/N Y/L/N?” JJ asked as the commercials started. The rest of the team turned to look at him. Spencer tried to hide his blush, but the smirk on Derek’s face told him it wasn’t working.

“Yeah,” Emily continued, “You go to see all of her movies. Multiple times.”

Spencer tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I just think Y/N is a good actor.” Luckily, the team soon lost interest in teasing Spencer, so he could focus on texting you about your performance.

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

“Thank goodness we finished in time to catch it.” Everyone nodded in agreement to Emily’s statement. They had just finished another case earlier that day and had made it to the jet in time to watch the finale as it aired. The team settled into their seats and quickly began sorting out their bets about who was who and who would win.

“Reid, you want in?” Rossi asked. So far, Spencer had abstained from all of the betting about the show they did. But now he wanted to have a little fun with his team.

“I think The Queen will win.” Most people nodded. That was a popular opinion. “And I think The Queen is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Oh c’mon, kid. You’re just as bad as Ken,” Derek complained, but he was smiling. Spencer felt slightly guilty. He knew that he was at least partially right. He had been tempted to ask you whether you win, but held himself back. There was no doubt that you signed some NDAs, so you really weren’t supposed to tell him.

Spencer had a hard time caring about the other performances. He was looking forward to hearing you again and to seeing the faces of his friends when he was right about your identity. Finally, the other two finalists had gone and it was your turn.  Unsurprisingly, your performance was amazing. The best of the night in Spencer’s slightly biased opinion.

Spencer was so relieved when third place was announced and it wasn’t you. Some celebrity he didn’t know took their mask off. There was some exchanging of money among his friends. But then it was time to announce the winner.

“And so, the winner of this season of The Masked Singer, who will go home today with The Golden Mask trophy is,” the host paused for dramatic effect. Spencer had to remind himself to breathe. “The Queen!”

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief as he watched you jump up and down onstage before being ushered to a throne where you would watch the runner up take off their mask. It was another celebrity Spencer didn’t know and didn’t care about.

“I guessed Miley Cyrus when you sang Jolene a few episodes ago. I don’t think that’s right, but it’s the best guess I have, so I’ll go with Miley,” one judge said when it was time for their final guesses. This was it. You were about to be unmasked. Spencer wasn’t quite sure why he was so nervous. You had won! And he already knew that it was you under the mask.

The other three judges threw out their final guesses, but no one was very sure of themselves. Except Ken, who confidently said, “It’s gotta be Michelle Obama,” earning lots of laughs from everyone watching.

“Well, let’s see who it is. Take it off. Take it off.” The host started the chant, which the audience and judges quickly took off as you pretended to struggle to take off your mask. Spencer found himself joining in with the rest of the team as they chanted too.

And finally, you removed your mask and Spencer could see your beautiful face. As great as you looked standing on the stage with your hair and makeup perfectly done, Spencer couldn’t wait until you were back home in a week and he could see you huddled on the couch wearing pajamas.

Chaos erupted, both on the screen and on the plane. It seemed like no one could believe that it was you. The rest of the team was too busy yelling in shock that they didn’t notice the look of absolute adoration Spencer was giving you.

“This might have been the most shocking reveal in Masked Singer history,” the host said into his microphone as the judges and audience began to calm down. “I mean, no one even knew you sing, Y/N. Why did you decide to come on The Masked Singer?”

You laughed uneasily into the microphone. Spencer could tell that you were feeling equal amounts of joy and nervousness. It was understandable, he thought. You had just won a singing competition despite having never sang in public before.

“I’ve always loved to sing, but I’ve never had much confidence in my voice. I’d love more than anything to be in a big movie musical. I guess I was hoping that this would be a good place to build my confidence.”

“You have an absolutely amazing voice,” one judge said. You ducked your head shyly, smiling slightly at the ground before looking back up at the judges. “I think after people see your performances you’ll have no problem doing a musical. I mean, you tackled so many different genres, and you sounded amazing doing all of them.”

You thanked the judge before turning to the others. A smile remained on your lips as they all congratulated you, but Spencer could tell from the way you kept shifting your weight that you were uncomfortable with all of the attention.

“Wait so you said that one reason you did this show was that it’s your boyfriend’s favorite show?” Spencer’s heart fluttered as he watched your smile grow at the mention of him. “That really threw me. I didn’t know you were dating anyone.” The other judges agreed.

“Yeah my boyfriend and I have been together for over two years. We’ve just kept it a secret.”

“Well the secret is out now.”

“You still don’t know who he is though,” you pointed out. The judges laughed and agreed.

“Whoever is dating her is a lucky man,” Rossi commented as the show wrapped up. Spencer tried not to let his heart skip a beat. What would his team think when they found out about you two?

---------------- 

“I still can’t believe that The Queen was Y/N Y/L/N,” JJ sighed. The team was in the elevator on the way up to their floor. They all needed to drop some stuff off, but Hotch had told them that no one was allowed to stay late tonight. They needed to get home and relax.

“I can’t believe she managed to have a secret boyfriend for over two years without the media finding out,” Emily added. “You know Garcia is probably already trying to uncover the mystery man.”

The team laughed as the elevator doors opened. Spencer made a mental note to warn you about Garcia. He had already texted you to congratulate you, but he missed you. You were supposed to finish filming in a few days and then you’d be back home in about a week. Still, Spencer was a little bummed that you would miss your third anniversary, which was actually tomorrow.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, who’s at your desk?” Derek asked.

It took Spencer a moment to really understand what he was seeing. It didn’t quite make sense in his brain. Every time you got home, you would immediately shower (to wash off the airplane germs), throw on one of Spencer’s old sweaters and some leggings, and curl up on the couch with whatever book Spencer had left laying around until he got home. And now here you were, wet hair and all, sitting at his desk. He barely had time to admire the look of concentration on your face as you tapped at your phone, probably texting your agent.

“Wait, is that-” But Spencer didn’t let Emily finish.

“Y/N!” he called as he pushed through the doors into the bullpen.

Your head shot up at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, a huge smile growing on your face. You dropped your phone onto the desk (your agent could wait) and rushed over to him. Completely ignoring the fact that his team was a few steps behind him, you threw your arms around Spencer, wrapping your legs around him too when he picked you up. He began to spin you around, causing you to shriek in glee.

Finally, he put you down. You started to move away, but he surprised you by putting his hands on either side of your face and connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, so happy to finally be back with your boyfriend.

“Does anyone else feel like they’re missing something?” You two broke apart at the sound his coworker’s voice. You smiled shyly at the man who had just spoke, Rossi you assumed, based on Spencer’s stories about his team.

“Everyone, I’d like you meet Y/N. My girlfriend.” The team looked between Spencer, who was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered, and you. You could feel the blush on your face, but that didn’t stop your own goofy love-struck grin.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you guys,” you finally said. “I’ve heard so much about you all.”

“We can’t say the same,” the blonde, JJ, slowly replied. You could feel Spencer shift uncomfortably beside you, before he pulled you even closer to his side.

“That’s my fault,” you said before Spencer could say anything. “I wanted to keep our relationship a secret so it didn’t get out to the media.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Spencer corrected you quickly. “I wanted to make sure that Y/N didn’t get targeted by anyone because of my job. She didn’t want anyone targeting me because of her job. It was a mutual decision.”

“And you couldn’t even tell us?” JJ asked. You could tell, even without knowing her, that she was hurt. You knew that she was Spencer’s best friend, so it was understandable. In fact, every face was looking at the two of you with some mixture of confusion, surprise, and hurt.

“I didn’t want to risk it,” Spencer said uncomfortably. “I figured that the more people who knew, the more likely it would be to get out. Y/N already had to tell some people, so I didn’t want to add to the list.”

“I only told my agent, my assistant, and my security team. And I only told my security team because they thought they caught Spencer trying to break into my house one day.”

Spencer’s face went bright red as he remembered that failed surprise. “I think we need to hear that story sometime.” The rest of the team quickly agreed with Prentiss. It seemed, for now at least, they would let the whole secret thing go.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asked suddenly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. I am. You’re supposed to be in LA filming.”

You grinned mischievously at him. “I managed to get the filming schedule rearranged a bit, so I could finish early. I shot my last scene this morning, then went straight to the airport. I wanted to surprise you, so we could finally spend an anniversary together.”

“When do you leave again?” The softness of Spencer’s voice broke your heart. He was preparing himself for you usual answer. You’d be here for a week or two and then have to leave again. But not this time.

“Not for months.” A smile of disbelief spread across Spencer’s face. “I’ll have to go to LA and New York for a few days here and there, but nothing long term. I want to be here with you.”

The two of you had, once again, forgotten that Spencer’s team was standing in front of you. It was so easy to get wrapped up in one another when you were both used to being alone together.

“Did I hear something about an anniversary?” Rossi asked, shaking the two of you out of your little bubble.

“It’ll be three years tomorrow.” You grinned up at your boyfriend. It was the first anniversary you would get to spend together.

“Let me host a dinner for you,” Rossi offered. “I’ll make one of my famous meals. We can break out some nice wine that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

Spencer began to shake his head, but you grabbed his arm and gasped. “Spencer please,” you begged. “You know I’ve always wanted to go to a dinner at Rossi’s place. You only talk about them all the time. Please. Please. Please.” Spencer finally gave in to your pleading, nodding reluctantly.

You hugged him in excitement before moving to properly introduce yourself to his friends. As you chatted with them, you could hear the clicking of approaching heels.

“My favorite crime fighters will be unhappy to know that I haven’t been able to find anything about Y/N Y/L/N’s secret boyfriend.” You looked up at the brightly dressed woman, definitely Garcia, who had just walked into the bullpen.

“Actually, baby girl, I think we figured that one out ourselves.” Garcia looked up from her phone at Derek’s words. Her eyes widened as she saw you standing among her coworkers.

“Wha-? Who? How? What?” she stammered. In response, you grabbed Spencer’s hand, pulling him closer to you. He wrapped an arm around you, grinning apologetically at Garcia. “Spencer Reid, I would be so mad at you if I wasn’t so happy about meeting Y/N.” Without wasting another second, she rushed over and hugged you. You laughed at the look of jealously on Spencer’s face as you were taken from his arms. This would take some getting used to.

---------------- 

You smiled happily, watching Spencer’s friends laugh at a story you had just finished. “I think this was a much better anniversary than burning dinner and then ordering takeout would have been,” you whispered to your boyfriend. Rossi’s food had not disappointed. Nor had his wine. You were feeling comfortably warm as you cuddled up with your boyfriend.

“It’s what we would have done after dinner that I was looking forward to.” You tried not to shiver at Spencer’s words.

“There will be plenty of time for that,” you reminded him. “I’m glad I’m getting to know your friends. They’re so important to you.”

“I’m glad they’re getting to know you. I think you all will be friends. That might not be good for me though.” You laughed at the embarrassed look on your boyfriend’s face. His friends had plenty of embarrassing stories about him, so you had been swapping stories all night.

It was easy for the team to see how absolutely in love the two of you were. Even if they hadn’t been profilers, the looks you two shared were so obvious. What had surprised them was how open Spencer was to your touch. In fact, he was the one initiating most your contact. You had been prepared to control yourself for the sake of Spencer’s professionalism, but he didn’t seem to have the same thought. Any time he could, he would grab your hand or wrap his arms around you.

That was how you had gotten to be cuddled up next to him. After dinner, the party had moved outside. You had been heading for a seat in between Emily and Penelope when Spencer’s hand had reached out and grabbed yours, pulling you onto the outdoor sofa beside him. Not that you were complaining. So you had stayed like that the rest of the night, leaning comfortably into your boyfriend’s side.

A couple weeks later, you posted a picture that Penelope had taken of the two of like that onto your social medias. It was time to introduce the world to your boyfriend.

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (1)

AO3 Link: here

Synopsis: Bakugou isn’t exactly in touch with all of his feelings. Kirishima usually doesn’t mind. At least not, until Bakugou starts to get weird around him. 

Part 2 3 4 5

Observational Learning

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou didn’t mind his class all that much. He had called them ‘extras’ a lot, when school had begun, but that was mostly because he was really bad at remembering people’s names. All in all, they were a decent bunch, some of them really strong, some of them aiming really high and all of them very determined. He could appreciate that, at least.

What he couldn’t appreciate, however, was their tendency to get involved in all kinds of gossip. Or, to be more exact, how loud they tended to be, when they found a particularly interesting piece of gossip. Getting mixed up in other people’s business was their thing. But being obnoxiously loud about it and basically screaming their findings to each other in the classroom, got him involved too. And he hated being involved in anybody’s business.

People told him - quite often actually - he eluded an aura that made him unapproachable. That he always seems like he was going to snap and scream at someone. That really, people only asked him for help, when every other possible choice was eliminated prior.  Which was mostly bullshit, of course. Kirishima asked for his help all the time, without ever being scared of him. And he only really snapped when people got on his nerves for too long. Or when Deku was involved, which was the same thing really. Deku just got on his nerves a lot faster than other people. Still his ‘aura of unapproachable’ kept him from being involved in most of his classmates shenanigans.

Most, being the key word.

No matter how much he scowled, how much he glared or how annoyed the undertone in his voice got when he told them that ‘No, he did not care at all. He doesn’t give a rats ass about it.’ , none of this helped against Kirishima’s sunshine declaration of ‘They are finally, officially together’. Because, of course Kirishima doesn’t care about Bakugou’s obvious bad mood and his blatant disinterest on the topic. He never did. It was one of the main reasons why they were as good friends as they were. It was also annoying Bakugou to no end, at that moment.

“And who cares?”, he grunted, throwing his shoes up on the table and looking out of the window to drive to point home. And really, it spoke for the general mood in the class right now, that Iida didn’t even try to reprimand him for that. Usually this would be the start of an argument on being proper and respectful. An argument that both Kirishima and Deku would try to keep on the down low, by trying to mediate between the two. But right now, Iida’s attention was all taken by trying to calm the ruckus and getting everyone to sit down, before Aizawa would come in to start homeroom. For once, Bakugou could agree with Iida, even if he would never say it out loud. They were too damn noisy.

“You can’t be serious!”, Kirishima exclaimed and even without looking, Bakugou could tell that there was a big smile on his lips, “Todoroki and Midoriya danced around their feelings forever. This is a big development!”

“It’s two dudes kissing! No need to make a spectacle out of it!”, he retorted, shooting Kirishima a look which he hoped conveyed just how done he was with this. Ever since these two had shown up holding hands that morning, it was the only thing on everyone's mind. And after Todoroki had stated, in a very blunt way that only Todoroki could do, that yes they kissed, the whole class just exploded with euphoria. As if it was their personal accomplishment. Which it wasn’t, Bakugou wouldn’t even call it much of an accomplishment at all. It would have happened eventually, anyways.

“Well it was a long time coming!”, Kirishima argued back like it was his personal mission to make Bakugou see just how important this was, “You could at least be happy for your friends.”

“They’re not my friends!”, Bakugou argued instantly, before Kirishima got some other weird ideas in his head. Hell would be frozen over, before he called Deku his friend. He was just about to tell that to the dumbass next to him, when the classroom door opened, revealing Aizawa.

The man looked way too tired and done for a Tuesday morning, but today Bakugou resonated with that on a deeply personal level. He too wished that this entire week was over already, in hopes the waves of euphoria from the ‘news’ will have died down by next week. Realistically, he knew the chances were slim. He refused to think about that. Aizawa somehow managed to get all of the class to their seats and be quiet with just one look, so really Bakugou was mostly grateful for him that morning.

That gratefulness lasted exactly two minutes, before Aizawa announced another field-trip-turned-training-exercise. At least he had a month to mentally prepare himself for that.

__________________

That fact that he would need to prepare for that field more than just mentally, didn’t hit him until lunch break. And to be fair, he wasn’t really thinking about it then, either. He was actually just about to take a bite out of the Onigiri from his bento (that he had made himself and no, he wouldn’t make one for anyone else, no matter how much they begged), when Kirishima interrupted his peace yet again.

Bakugou couldn’t say he liked that tendency.

“Shit guys, does anyone have bug spray?”, he asked, mouth full with his sandwich, which honestly irked Bakugou even more than the question itself. Had no one ever taught this guy basic table manners? The answer was apparently no, no one ever bothered. Or maybe it just was a thing in their group, because both Kaminari and Sero also had their mouths full, when they exclaimed that no, there was no bug spray to have between them. Which was a stupid thing to be that aggrevated about.

“What do you need bug spray for anyway?”, Bakugou mumbled, after swallowing and he could already feel himself getting annoyed. What a stupid discussion to have over lunch, really.

“The training camp?”, Kaminari stated, his voice getting higher at the end, even though it clearly wasn’t phrased as a question, “I can’t have the mosquitos eat me up again. I swear, I’m just too damn cute.”

“Questionable”, Jirou said, wholly unimpressed by Kaminari getting mad at her and instead just opting to continue eating quietly. When she even got to their table, Bakugou had no idea.

“He is not completely wrong tho”, Kirishima said and Bakugou could see Kaminari in the background puffing out his chest and raising his chin, proudly. As if the idiot had any justification for being proud. He just stated a simple fact. “We do need bug spray for the mosquitos.” Kaminari visibly deflated at that. Bakugou, on the other hand, could feel his anger rising. Did that idiot really think Kirishima would agree that he was cute?

“Just go shopping then”, he said, just wanting to end this damn discussion. It wasn’t even useful, with the answer lying so obviously within reach. They all just liked to make a big fuss out of nothing. Exactly like that same morning.

“Can’t”, came a chorus of answers from all around their table with various excuses. Jirou had study sessions with Yaoyorozu. Kaminari booked the training hall, surprising everyone. Bakugou didn’t really care.

“I have time. Want me to get something for you guys?”, Kirishima volunteered starting what was possibly the worst verbal onslaught happening that day. Which said something, considering the ruckus these idiots had made that morning. Kirishima dealt with it very patiently tho, writing down who needed what. Which proved that Kirishima was way more organised than Bakugou would have given him credit for.

“Do you have anything planned this afternoon?”, Kirishima asked, with a strange undertone to his voice, that Bakugou couldn’t quite place. He could however think of where this question was headed. And he was quick to shut it down.

“I’m not going shopping with you!”

“Aw, c’mon man. This’ll be fun”, Kirishima argued, shooting Bakugou his best open-mouthed smile, presenting all of his teeth. If he thought that would sway Bakugou’s decision, he would need to think again. No way would Bakugou cave that easily.

“Find someone else.” And then to signal that this talk was really, completely over, Bakugou took another bite of his food. Kirishima just winked at him, unbothered by Bakugou being the way he is and instead turned around in his chair to face the table behind them. Oh no.

“Hey, Midoriya”, he shouted, which was unnecessary, because Deku was two arm lengths away at best, “where did you buy that super good bug spray again? You know the one you had for the last training camp.”

“That was Uraraka’s. She bought it at the mall. I don’t know the name of the shop, but I can show it to you. Are you free this afternoon?”, Deku answered, ever the helpful idiot that he was. Well, at least Kirishima found his shopping buddy. And Bakugou could be at peace.

“Sure am, thanks. Meet in front of the store at 3:30? I’ll bring Bakugou.”

No, he sure as hell wouldn’t. Bakugou was quick to voice that.

__________________

The question ‘How the hell did I get talked into this?’ went through Bakugou’s mind approximately a thousand times, between leaving the dorms and arriving at the shopping center. Which was impressive, because the way had only taken them fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes that Kirishima had filled with bright chatter, either blissfully oblivious to Bakugou’s mood or willingly ignoring it. He would regret this for sure. Bakugou would make him regret it. Later. For now, he was content to just listen to Kirishima chatter about anything and everything that came to his mind. It wasn’t the best use of his time, but it wasn’t the worst either. Not that he would ever admit that.

And so, while Kirishima’s chatter became a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind and Bakugou was starting to think about what he would need for their next training camp, he felt himself being more calm than he had been the entire day. Which wasn’t hard, not with the day he had, but it was still nice.

It was promptly taken from him.

Crossing the last traffic light separating them from the shopping center, where Deku was already waiting for them, he saw something. Something that made him want to turn around and go home again. To hell with Kirishima not wanting to go alone, that was no reason why he should subject himself to what will essentially be an afternoon of torture. There was no way Bakugou would just accept this like it was nothing.

Deku brought his fucking boyfriend.

“Midoriya, Todoroki”, Kirishima shouted happily, being way more enthusiastic than he had any right to. He sped up, holding up one of his arms to wave at them, which Deku promptly returned just as enthusiastic. Todoroki gave a way more timid wave and Bakugou decided he wouldn’t bother at all. No need to fake friendliness. Or that he wanted to be there.

“Kirishima, It’s good to see you”, Deku greeted, as if they hadn’t just spent hours at school together and Bakugou felt like punching something again. Why did he always feel to need to use those overly polite yet completely unnecessary phrases? Why couldn’t the idiot just be normal.

“We just saw them at school”, Todoroki pointed out and Bakugou would have nodded to agree with him, but he had his pride. No way he was going to openly agree with Deku’s boyfriend on anything. Even if it was criticizing Deku. So while Deku explained to his socially stunted boyfriend what a polite phrase was, which somehow developed into a discussion about whether or not those were time wasting ( Yes, they are, Bakugou wanted to shout, but that would be admitting to listening in on their conversations.), Bakugou started one last try to get away from all of this before it became even more of a waste of time.

“Hey Kirishima”, he addressed the boy, who looked at Deku and Todoroki with something close to a fond smile, “have fun third-wheeling on their date. I’m going home.” And with that he turned his back, hoping to get out before Kirishima could make an argument against it. A futile hope, really.

“No, come on, Bakugou”, Kirishima said in a voice that sounded an awful lot like begging, so much so, that it made Bakugou stop midstep, “I didn’t know he would bring Todoroki. Please don’t leave me alone, I don’t wanna be a third wheel.”

“And how am I supposed to help that?”

“Simple”, Kirishima, who walked around so he could face him again, smiled at him like he was the fucking sun himself, “You stay here with me, so I don’t feel left out all the time.”

“And why would I do that?”, Bakugou inquired, feeling how he got closer and closer to yelling out his frustrations. It was Kirishima’s stupid idea to go shopping with Deku, so Kirishima should be the one dealing with all of the consequences. By himself. He had no right to involve Bakugou in this.

“Because we’re friends?”, Kirishima argued, but Bakugou could tell by the way he winced at himself, that he wasn’t convinced by his own argument. He shouldn’t be. Since when did friendship mean having to subject himself to the drama that Kirishima essentially brought over himself. Old Bakugou would have laughed at him and went on his way.

But old Bakugou wasn’t really hero material. Old Bakugou also wasn’t Kirishima’s friend.

“Fine”, Bakugou grunted and Kirishima’s lit up immediately, “but you owe me.”

“Sure.” Kirishima smiled easily leading him back to where Deku and Todoroki were waiting for them, obviously finished with whatever they were doing. At least Deku had the decency to look ashamed and apologize for getting off-track (wasting their time, if you asked Bakugou). Kirishima waved the apology away and they finally got started shopping. Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that this was gonna be a long afternoon.

__________________

He was right, of course.

Todoroki and Deku continued to flirt incessantly. Bakugou had a burning pain in his eyes from rolling them too much and a new record in fake-gagging. Kirishima always reprimanded him for the last one. The idiots in question seemed painfully oblivious to their flirting, which made it that much more irritating. They promised they would stop everytime and then they just continued. Bakugou was about ready to scream the entire mall down.

Kirishima took it all way too lightly, in his opinion. He smiled at them gleefully and he even had the audacity to defend them, when Bakugou complained. Don’t you think it’s nice to be that in love? No, he didn’t. It’s annoying to be that in love as Kirishima put it. Could you even be in love after not even 24 hours of dating? Fat fucking chance.

“Get me some food, before I blast this entire mall down”, Bakugou grunted out, eying Kirishima dangerously. He wouldn’t actually do it, but if a threat got him some distraction, he wasn’t above using it.

“Sure thing”, Kirishima agreed, asking for preferences, before he went off. Deku accompanied him - not without making heart-eyes at Todoroki and only reluctantly letting go of his hand - and Bakugou didn’t even fight the urge to roll his eyes. Damn nerd being dramatic. Todoroki shot a knowing smile his way that only angered him more.

“What are you smirking about?”, Bakugou asked, very clearly hearing the annoyed undertone in his voice that failed to deter Todoroki. Like it always did.

“I don’t know. I just like the double date.”

“THE WHAT?”, Bakugou screamed, turning several heads towards them, none of which he cared about. What did the half-n-half-bastard just call this? He was sure he must have misheard. That, or Deku’s boyfriend had a very urgent death wish. One that Bakugou wouldn’t mind granting him, right now.

“Double date. Isn’t that what you call it, when two couples spend time with each other?” He had a death wish, Bakugou determined. There was no way he was really that dense. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Deku and Kirishima running towards them. They better be there fast, or there would be a real fight between him and that bastard.

“This is not a double date”, he gritted out, looking at Todoroki, daring him to disagree. Unfortunately, Kirishima was there faster than he expected, Deku on his heels. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Guys, what’s wrong, you’re making a scene”, Kirishima whisper-shouted when he arrived looking between them, as if he could get the answer from that. Instead of answering Kirishima - or focusing on his boyfriend like he had the entire goddamn afternoon - Todoroki decided to continue his chat with Bakugou.

"It feels like a double date to me", Todoroki said, ever the blunt one and Bakugou felt himself slowly losing it. Actually, not so slowly.

“What?”, Kirishima questioned, clearly caught off-guard.

“Shoto!”, Deku exclaimed at the same time, cheeks red and trying to get his boyfriend to pay attention to him again. Probably to dissolve the tension building between him and Bakugou. Bakugou for his part was ready to fight the bastard seriously.

“That’s not it at all! Bakugou and I aren’t dating”, Kirishima hurried to explain, putting himself between Bakugou and Todoroki while doing it, “We’re just friends. Nothing more to it.”

And that struck something deep within Bakugou. Something unpleasant, that he already hated, despite experiencing it for the first time. It was weird, nothing out of the ordinary happened - despite Todoroki’s absurd claim of course. Still he could feel his insides twisting, like someone plunged a knife in his gut. Instinctively he looked down to check, but saw nothing but his shirt. Weird.

He heard Deku and Kirishima try to explain the situation to Todoroki, but it was off. As if they were far away, instead of standing right in front of him. He caught a glance of Kirishima awkwardly rubbing his neck, while talking, Bakugou could see his mouth move, but he couldn’t make out the words. Like something was covering his ears. Kirishima smiled and his stomach twisted again.

He felt like he was getting sick.

“I’m out”, he said, not bothering whether or not they could hear him and then he swiftly moved. He needed air, to clear his head. And he needed to investigate their weird feeling in his stomach. That apparently correlated with Kirishima. Which could mean a lot of things.

It could mean anything, he tried to tell himself, while he made his way outside as fast as possible without his explosions accelerating him. He didn’t have the clear head to use them for that purpose right now.

It could mean anything, he told himself, when he heard Kirishima calling after him, a concerned undertone in his voice, that made Bakugou want to turn around. He wanted to snap, that he could take care of himself. He wanted to bathe in the knowledge that Kirishima cared for him.

It could mean anything, he insisted, when he finally made it outside and his feet automatically dragged him to the station. He took a deep breath, that helped exactly zero percent in the quest to clear his head and then he fiddled with his phone. He desperately needed the distraction.  

It could mean anything , he reminded himself later that night, after Kirishima had dropped off his forgotten shopping bags and asked if he felt alright. Bakugou told a half-lie about an upset stomach and Kirishima offered to make tea. Which he declined, because he could take care of himself, thank you very much.

Kirishima had brought up some tea anyways, paired with some bread because it was safer not to risk upsetting his stomach anymore. Then he told Bakugou to just knock on his wall if he needed anything else, like the considerate idiot he was. He gave him a big smile before he left, one which twisted Bakugou’s stomach again, but it was also accompanied by a squeezing feeling in his chest this time. And Bakugou wasn’t an idiot, he knew these signs, when he saw them.

It could mean you have a crush, a traitorous voice in his mind whispered. Bakugou hated himself, for how much he actually considered the possibility.

[sinner-as-saint]

Questions

Run-through: While on a mission, you’re stuck in an area of a building with your fellow Avenger, Bucky Barnes with whom you may or may not have a love/hate relationship. And while waiting for someone to come rescue you, you both find quite an interesting way to keep yourselves occupied.

Themes: language, dirty talk, smut

   “Ah, fuck this shit!” you exclaimed, kicking the old, rusty metal door one last time before sitting down on the dusty ground, panting and leaning your back against the same door the was shut. You had been trying to get that door to open for the past 15 minutes, with no success. So you gave up, hoping that the team would be able to track you down and come and get you out of this stuffy room.

“You’re trying in vain, doll. Save your energy, trust me,” your mission partner said. And God knows how much you hated the sickly sweet tone he used on you.

“Funny you say that, Barnes. You’re not even trying to get us out of here,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words as you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as you were exhausted.

 You and the team set out on a mission earlier. The plan was simple; get off the Jet, sneak into this hauntingly old, gigantic abandoned building, take down whoever was in there, search the place for anyone held captive, destroy the remains of whatever barbaric transactions were taking place there and leave. But when you all decided to split just so you could search the place better and faster because the place was huge. HUGE. And, that’s when everything went to shit.

Steve, Nat and Clint were searching the east wing while you and Bucky were assigned to search the west wing, and the others explored the massive dungeons.

You and Bucky, despite sometimes being each other’s nightmare, were a very high-powered duo. Nothing could go wrong when you both worked together because your strength and skills complimented each other’s extremely well. But that was until the floor above you decided to collapse; trapping you in what seemed like an emergency panic room. Honestly, you only went in there because it seemed a little absurd when you thought about why someone would think of having a panic room in such a place.

So long story short, the floor above you collapsed for whatever reason and trapped you inside with Bucky and his annoying self. And you figured that the rest of the team were really far away because you could only hear static noises through the comms. You prayed to God that they found you as soon as possible.

“Guys? Anyone? Sam? Seriously, come and get me out of here. I don’t wanna die in this horrible place, with Bucky of all people. God, come on, where are the Avengers when you need them?” you tried reaching out to anyone who would hear but all you got was more static noises and you let out a long, dramatic sigh. Then you heard Bucky who let out a chuckle.

“You’re really dramatic you know that?” he asked, sitting down as well, his back against the wall facing you. The room was quite small so you were only approximately 10 feet away from each other.

“Is it dramatic to not wanna die in this awful place b-“you got cut off by a broken voice coming through the ear piece you had on.

“Hang on kid…heavy….we don’t-….coming…in...couple-…hours,” was all it said. And you soon realized that the voice was Tony’s.

“Tony? Tony can you hear me? Hello?” but you got no reply back. This time, even the static noise was gone.

Your face lit up when you heard that they were coming to get you, but did he just say a couple of hours? What the hell?

“At least now we know that they’re coming. Looks like all that whining finally paid off, huh, doll?” Bucky said, looking at you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, what are we gonna do for another couple of more hours?” you sighed, leaning tour head back against the door, once again making a little thud sound.

He smirked.

“You know, I might have some things in mind,” he suggested, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he must have had that damned, cocky smile on his face.

You opened your eyes, grabbed your gun and aimed it at him.

“I will not sleep with you, ever. I wouldn’t fuck you even if you were the last man on Earth, Barnes,” you said, slowly lowering down you gun and placed it beside you again.

He laughed.

“I never said anything about sleeping with me. I was merely suggesting that, uh, game you and Nat were playing the other day. What is it, 50, 30 questions?” he asked and you shook your head weakly.

“We’re currently trapped in an old building, under a floor that just collapsed with our friends looking for us without any idea of where we could be because they can’t track us. And you wanna play 20 questions?” you couldn’t believe he just said that.

You knew he was quite a weird person but you never thought it’d come to this.

He shrugged. That damned, cocky smile still on his perfect face.

“I mean, we can’t just sit here and look at each other for hours. Might as well get to know each other better, and as Steve said, you and I need to work on our issues. So, 20 questions it is!” he sat up straight, still facing you.

He did have a point though.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go first. Barnes, how do you manage to reach such a soaring level of stupidity?” you sassed and he bit his lip.

Damn… wait what?

“Skills, doll. I’m next, what’s the one thing you’ve always wanted in life?” he asked, looking at you attentively.

You thought over it for a moment.

“Control. My turn, would you like to go in the future or the past?” you were beginning to notice an odd light in his eyes and you didn’t know why.

“The future. My turn, did you sleep with Thor the night you were both drunk, flirting shamelessly during the New Year’s party?” he asked, and your jaw was about to hit the floor.

Damn it, you knew this asshole would ask some dumb shit like this to make you uncomfortable. Why did you even agree to play this game?

“I, I can’t answer that. That’s private,” you simply said and he moved closer to you, to a point where he sat directly in front of you. Your boots touched his and his eyes stared into yours, unmoving.

“I supposed you’re forgetting a dirty little rule you made, doll. An unanswered question equals discarding an article of clothing. Now, answer me, or take something off,” he spoke calmly as he reminded you of the stupid rule you made the last time you played with Nat. You mentally kicked yourself for making such an immature rule in the first place.

“You’re such a pig! Okay, fine.” You zipped down your jacket and took it off. Leaving you in your leather pants, a tight, white tank top, under which was your red, lacy bra – the outline of which was very visible.

And suddenly, your skin felt very hot as Bucky took in your appearance. You were still very clothed but something about the way he was looking at you made you feel, naked. Very naked.

You avoided eye contact as much as possible while asking him your question.

“Okay, who do you think about when you masturbate at night?” you asked, keeping a straight face as one of his eyebrow raised.

He tilted his head to the side slightly and smirked again.

“What makes you think I think about someone? What if I say I watch porn like any other guy?” he asked, smirking.

You laughed.

“Because, you are not like other guys. Bucky, you can barely use Google. Now just answer my question, or take something off,” and it was your turn to smirk.

He let out a frustrated breath and took of his jacket. Under which he wore nothing. So within seconds, Bucky sat facing you, shirtless. And for the first time, you weren’t complaining.

“Like what you see, doll?” he asked, again with that damned, cocky smile on.

“Screw you Barnes, it’s your turn,” you said, eyeing him shamelessly.

His skin was so smooth. He barely had any scars except for many healed cuts around the point where his shoulder met his metal arm. And you suddenly felt bad for all the horrible things he had to go through alone.

“Hello? Y/N?” he waved his other arm in front of your face, dragging you back you reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“I asked, were you scared of me the first time we met?” his words weren’t laced with sarcasm anymore, but they did have a hint of mischief coating them.

“Absolutely not. My turn, do you ever take our bickering at heart? I mean, have I ever hurt you by saying something really harsh?” you asked, surprising yourself because you didn’t know where this question came from.

Did you really care about what he thought?

He smiled.

“Nah. Cause I know deep down, you’re a good person with a good heart. And really nice boobs too,” he answered, and a very smug expression displayed all across his face while his eyes stared at your cleavage.

You threw your jacket at his face, making him laugh as you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, but they’re there and you expect me not to look? Whatever, my turn, have you hooked up with Thor before?” he asked again, smirking.

He inched closer to you, placing his leg in between your ankles. And his eyes never left yours.

“I said I can’t answer that! Plus, you can’t repeat a question,” you argued but he wouldn’t listen.

“Rules are rules, sugar. Take it off,” he said, and tugged at your tank top.

Something took over you and without thinking, you got rid of the tank top. So you sat there, in front of him, only in a lacy, red bra and leather pants. Your hair did cover parts of your chest but it didn’t help the growing hard on in Bucky’s pants.

He didn’t think you did, but you noticed. And a devious, really, really unholy thought went through your head.

You folded your legs under your thighs and sat down on them again. This caused him to have to look up to you slightly.

“My turn, are you hard right now?” you asked, nonchalantly and you saw how his jaw almost dropped.

“I, uh, what?” he asked, as if unable to believe what he just heard.

“Oh you heard me, do you have a hard on right now, soldier?” you asked again, inching closer and closer to his lap until you straddled him.

His eyes rolled back when you moved your core against his hard length slightly. When he opened them again, you were smiling down at him.

“Yeah, yes I do,” he answered, smirking again. Why was he being so smug? You thought you had the upper hand in this situation.

“My turn, have you ever thought about me while using that little light pink vibrator on yourself, doll? And don’t lie, I heard you once or twice,” he cooed, kissing the side of your neck with certainty as he knew you could never answer that.

Your eyes widened in shock as you let out a little moan while Bucky left a trail of love bites along your throat.

His hands grabbed your ass and he pushed you into him slightly. You whimpered at the friction.

“I’d rather not answer that,” you simply said, getting off his lap abruptly.

You stood in front of him and unbuckled your pants, slowly taking them off. You watched how his chest rose and fell quickly as you took your time in slipping out of your tight pants.

You were turning him on and you liked it.

Once you got out of your pants, you dropped them on the floor and that’s when Bucky stood up as well.

“Oh wait. Are we done playing?” you asked innocently, as if unaware that your matching set of deep red lacy underwear wasn’t driving him crazy with desire.

He nearly moaned just at the mere sight of you.

“Don’t tease me, doll,” he said sternly, slightly grabbing your jaw with his metal arm. You giggled, grabbing him by the back of his neck, pulling him down so your lips hovered over his ear.

“You wanna know a secret? I always, always think about your metal fingers every time I use my vibrator,” you whispered innocently, placing a little kiss on his jaw line. And he let out a growl.

“Fucking shit! Do you have any idea of what I wanna do to you right now, doll?” he sounded like he was clearly frustrated. And you liked that.

He pushed your body backwards until you were trapped between him and the wall. His hand was at your waist and one was around your neck, causing your head to slightly lean backwards. His cold fingers wrapped around your warm neck made a certain wetness pool in your underwear.

“No, actually, care to enlighten me Barnes?” your wrists wrapped around his arm, giving him the hint that you liked it there.

He leaned in, his lips hovering over yours as you felt your heart beat insanely fast in your chest. A fiery, desire filled warmth filled your entire body as his dirty words filled your head.

“I want nothing more than to strip you naked and have my way with you, doll. And I know you want the same. I know you think of me when you get yourself off at night, but I assure you, I’ll make you feel better than your toys ever could babygirl. I wanna hear you scream my name as I make you come multiple times until you forget your own name, you want that, doll?” as he spoke, you felt a warm liquid dripping down your thigh. When you realized what it was, your blood rushed to your face. Bucky literally had you dripping wet with only his words.

“Fuck…” your voice trailed off as his hand caressed your inner thigh.

You let out a moan as his hand gripped your throat a little tighter. You smiled, looking up at him while slightly grinding your lower abdomen to his.

“You’re into choking, huh? And very needy too I see. Tell me, doll, what do you want?” he asked, pressing his entire body against your so you could feel all of him.

His skin on yours felt just right.

“I want you, Buck. Right now!” you said, loud and clear but he wasn’t done yet. He planned on teasing you even more.

“Watch that tone with me doll! Now tell me, where do you want me?” his words sent shivers throughout your entire body.

His hands traveled up and down your skin, causing goose bumps along the way.

“Down there,” you replied, pointing your finger downwards your body, smirking at him as he sank to his knees.

His hands ran up and down your things, causing your body to shake as he chuckled.

“You’re so responsive, baby, I’ll make you feel so good I promise,” he whispered while kissing your inner thighs. Licking the droplet of lust which oozed out of you earlier. The whole of it was so vulgar that your eyes rolled back.

Your hands tangled into his hair as he slowly slipped your underwear down your legs, causing you to shiver at his bare touch.

Once you stepped out of the red underwear, his mouth latched on to your core. His tongue moving back and forth from your entrance to your clit, while his eyes looked up at you. Having his head in the middle of your shaky legs was spine-tingling.

His hands wrapped around your hips, spreading you slightly while nuzzling his mouth deeper into your core as you let out multiple moans and groans.

“You taste amazing baby,” he said, detaching his mouth from you for a brief moment as he slipped two metal fingers deep inside you, slowly. He watched you frown in pleasure as you tugged on the roots of his dark hair.

“Bucky… oh my god” you moaned shamelessly. And he smirked again.

He kept his fingers buried in you, constantly rotating them or slipping them in and out of you as he stood up once again, claiming your lips.

His mouth was wet, and you could see your wetness all across his beard.

His tongue slipped past your lips and gently stroked the top of your mouth. His fingers worked relentlessly between your folds and you felt a warm pressure forming in between your hips just as his metal fingers curled up inside you, brushing against a weak spot you barely knew you had.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands still tangled into his hair.

“You like my fingers in your cunt, huh, doll? You like it when I touch you like this, don’t you?” he asked, panting against your mouth as he felt his pants grow tighter and tighter.

But when you didn’t answer, his frustration got the best of him.

He slipped his hands out of your heat, making you whimper. He harshly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

“Answer me when I talk to you baby, don’t be a brat, yeah?” but you could barely form a proper sentence to reply back so when you said nothing, he messily grabbed a chunk of your hair, tugging at it lightly and brought you to your knees.

You knelt in front of him, your core still dripping and throbbing because he didn’t grant you your release yet.

“Bucky, I –,” he cut you off immediately.

“Shh princess, now get to work,” he held your head gently as you unbuckled his pants quickly, almost desperate to please him.

You pulled down his pants and underwear and almost immediately took him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip for a little while, making him grunt in pleasure.

“You look so good on your knees, doll, with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned out loud, pushing himself into your mouth slightly.

You bobbed your head around his tip, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You repeated the same thing over and over again until he quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, which notified you that he was really close to coming undone.

But since he didn’t let you cum, you weren’t gonna let him cum either.

You removed him from your mouth and slowly licked the slit on the top of his tip, tasting his pre cum as your hands toyed with his balls, earning a moan out of him. You smiled in satisfaction as you rose up to your feet.

His eyes widened when he realized what you just did.

“But -, but baby, I –,”

“Shh, just fuck me, soldier. I want you so bad, Bucky, it hurts. Please,” you pleaded, unhooking your bra and letting it fall on the ground, leaving you both completely bare.

“Come here, doll,” he whispered, smashing his lips to yours. Kissing and biting your mouth as his lined himself at your still dripping entrance.  

He brushed his tip up and down your entrance, not fully entering you and it drove you crazy.

“Bucky, please, n-no more teasing,” you moaned, and he chuckled.

His hand at your throat held your neck a little tighter, choking you slightly.

“Else what, huh, doll?” he saw how needy you were for him and it filled him with a sense of pride.

As response, you just moaned when he slowly entered you. Allowing you to feel every vein on his length and feel yourself stretch to your maximum so he could fill you up completely.

“Ah fuck! Bucky!” you moaned as he slipped out of you and slipped in you once more.

He groaned as he filled you to the brim, slowly moving in and out of you.

“You feel so good, doll. All wet and warm for me, damn it!” he grunted out as you rotated your hips against him, adding more the sensation.

His filthy words and his movements around your body caused an assortment of swear words to leave your mouth. A mouth which he soon started to nibble on.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip while he moved in and out of you at an increased pace. His metal arm was still gripping your throat while the other one held your hip, probably leaving a deep purple bruise as a memoir – adding to those around your tits and along your neck.

The momentum he created with his length at your core further increased the tightening pressure in between your hips and you desperately needed to come undone. With each passing second and each stroke of Bucky’s length, you felt you orgasm building up quickly and you knew immediately that you wouldn’t last longer.

Your quiet screams only encouraged Bucky to move quicker. You felt your legs starting to shake as you knees felt weak, unable to hold your body weight.

“Bucky, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned against his cheek as ragged breaths left his sinful lips.

“Not yet! Look at me,” he gripped your jaw, forcing your eyes to stare into his, “Who is making you feel this good, huh, doll? Tell me, who?” he grunted, sweat dripping from his forehead to his sharp jawline.

He applied more pressure at your throat and he fucked you until you could no longer form a complete sentence. He somehow managed to hit all the right spots.

“Y-you are, Buck…” your words turned into a moan as you could no longer hold it back. So, you came hard, with a quiet scream. Mumbling how good he made you feel against his cheek.

 You felt his length pulsating inside of you as you rode out your orgasm, and you knew he was close. With a couple more strokes, Bucky came undone as well, his warm liquid hitting your walls which made you squirm against his bare body.

“Fuck, baby, you were so good,” he whispered, his hand leaving your neck and caressing your cheek as he slowly slipped out of you.

“You too, Buck,” you giggled, and kissed his lips one more time.

He broke the kiss and spoke up again.

“You didn’t fuck Thor though, did you?” he asked, making you laugh as he pressed your body against his once more.

“No, but why does that bother you?” you grabbed his face in both your hands and kissed his nose, making him smile down at you.

“Good, because I don’t want anyone else touching what’s mine,” he nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed his way up to your lips again before whispering a quick, “you’re mine.”

 The two of you hurried to get dressed and as soon as you zipped your jacket back up, somebody pushed down the door.

Dust particles flew around for a bit, making your vision blurry for a while before you could focus again on who was in front of you.

“There you guys are! Are you okay? We’re so sorry we took so long, the entire west wing collapsed and we didn’t know where you guys were,” Nat explained, pulling you in for a wind pipe crushing hug.

“Its okay, Nat. Actually, that gave Bucky and I plenty of time to, uh, work on our issues,” you explained, briefly looking at Bucky who had the same cocky smile on his face and Steve beamed.

“That’s great! Now let’s go home,” Steve said, ushering you and Bucky out of the room. But that was until you heard Tony’s voice.

“Uh, are we just gonna collectively ignore the bright red bra that’s on the floor?” he asked, pointing towards it a few feet away from where you stood and everybody’s gaze fell on your forgotten bra on the floor.

Shit!

[ateezmakemeweep]

do you do reactions? 🥺 i was wondering if you could do a reaction of the boys when you’re a whole “stay 6 feet away” person bc of corona and when they try to kiss you, you like push them away and place a ruler between you and them? LMAOAOA ITS SO WEIRD BUT I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT THIS 😔 okay thank you love, stay safe and hope you’re doing well!

LMAO i never thought about doing them but i can def try! don’t come for me if they’re stupid or bad aha <3

❥ kim hongjoong

you didn’t think you’d have any problems with hongjoong since it had taken you a good few days to convince him to see you in the first place. “we’ll wear our masks and stay six feet apart,” you told him, “you weren’t even sick so i don’t know why you think you’re gonna give it to me.”

but the boy couldn’t help but worry, knowing he’s around a lot more people than you and traveled quite a bit during this outbreak. and if he got you sick, he’d never forgive himself. but he also wouldn’t forgive himself if he hurt your feelings by not coming, hence why you two were currently standing outside your home a few feet apart.

“see,” you told him, eyebrows raising playfully as a smirk crosses your face. “it’s fine!”

and it was fine, he sees that now, so when he walked forward with a determined look in his eye, he had fully expected you to accept his kiss and allow your mouths to crash just a little.

but then your eyes widen and you pull your mask up, holding your hands out right in front of you to push him away. “hongjoong!”

“what, it’s fine you said! so why can’t we kiss?”

❥ park seonghwa

you were happy that you and seonghwa had been on the same page about social distancing and what not, the both of you seeing the importance in protecting yourselves and taking all the proper precautions. 

which is why you were incredibly surprised that when you went to visit seonghwa, he had gone right up to you and tried to kiss you.

“hwa, what are you doing?” you asked him, backing away from him ever so slightly. “i don’t have my mask on.”

“well yeah, it’d be kind of hard to kiss you if you did.” 

and you never thought you’d have the strength to actually pull away from him as your lips were about to touch, taking the ruler from your back pocket and smacking him lightly in the stomach.

“where the-where did you get that?”

you place the ruler between you both before eyeballing the rest of the distance. “i knew i would need extra protection. we can’t do that!” 

“y/n….” he said, his tone low and commanding like every other time you give him trouble. and usually it works, falling victim straight away to his deep voice and soft, narrowed eyes. but this is different, you try to convince yourself, this is way more serious and you can’t give in. 

“seonghwa, we can’t,” you whine again.

a sigh leaves his mouth before he reluctantly agrees, your lips quirking up into a smile as your face brightens; you think this is the first time you’ve ever called the shots with your boyfriend. 

your bright smile makes him groan, mumbling that you shouldn’t look that pretty and happy about being able to kiss. 

❥ jeong yunho

he was always a sweet, understanding boy in every sense of the word. even when you guys were at your separate homes, he made sure be in constant contact with you whether it be through text, facetime, or calling, because he knew you were slightly anxious about getting sick and being quarantined.

however, when you finally did agree for you guys to hang out, he came rushing over with his mask and gloves up to his elbows causing you to giggle in the doorway. 

“is this okay?” he asked, “i was- i was gonna get a suit too but-“

your giggle turned into loud laughs, shaking your head as you insisted a suit would’ve been too much. so maybe that’s what made him think it was okay to break the six feet apart rule and lean down for a kiss. 

but then you gasped and covered your mouth with your dry, raw hands. 

“yunho!” you whined. 

“what?” he pouted, “i’m not sick, baby, i promise.”

but then the blank stare you gave him made him sigh, the pout on his lips making you frown as well; it’s not like you didn’t wanna kiss him, of course you did, but you were just too scared. 

and once you told him that, he ended up settling for you blowing him a kiss, insisting you do it for the remainder of your time together that day. 

❥ kang yeosang

yeosang couldn’t help but burst out laughing when he saw you come out of your car. it wasn’t because the mask somehow managed to look cute on you or the fact that your hands were covered in the smallest size gloves he’d ever seen. 

it was because the last thing he expected was for you to be wielding a ruler. 

“y/n, what the fuck is that?”

“six feet apart!” you sang melodically, spacing out approximately six feet “and if you try to break that, it works as a weapon too.”

he brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, squeezing it as he looks over you. he had known you were freaked out about everything and he understood the gloves and mask. but now you had brought something with the sole purpose of beating him when he very much so was gonna try to sneak in a kiss.

“so you’re saying one, tiny, quick kiss is off the table?”

“absolutely!” you squeal, “are you nuts!”

“but y/n, what about just…”

any and every ridiculous rationalization the boy came up with, you shot down with ease. no matter how many times he groaned and whined to you, even after he resorted to trying to be cute, you were able to resist. 

but he also never tried to come towards you on his own, so you suppose the ruler had done its job.

❥ choi san

if you had thought he was whiney and needy before this, you were sadly mistaken. because even with the constant contact and video calls, he would still softly mumble how much he missed seeing you. 

“i miss you, too,” you said, your pout matching his. “maybe…you can over tomorrow. we can hang out and go for a walk or something.”

and that proved very hard for the boy. because he kept reaching out for your hand on the sidewalk, kept trying to pull you into him and kiss you despite the mask covering your face.

“san,” you whined, looking at him apologetically before putting a few feet between you. “i want too, please don’t think i don’t,” you tell him. 

because you don’t want to hurt his feelings or make him feel like you’re using this as an excuse not to touch him.  but you’re scared and cautious and doing it honestly more for his sake than yours. 

“i can’t wait for this to be over,” he sighs, his eyes going from your lips to your hand to your eyes. 

and you think if you hold his hand, your arms awkwardly stretched out to put some distance between you, that won’t too dangerous. 

❥ song mingi

the first thing you see stepping out your car is mingi’s tall, lanky frame waving at you. and it’s within those two-seconds, you realize not kissing him is gonna be some of the hardest shit you’ve ever had to do. 

because it’s not like he’s making it any easier.

any time you take one step back, he takes one step closer. he gives you a wide, cute smile and says he just wants to hug and kiss you for less than a minute.

“that’s a long time, mingi,” you told him. but he only shrugs his shoulder, promising you over and over again everything will be fine. but you’re standing your ground, covering your eyes when he tries everything in the book: cute, seductive, whiney, pouting. 

and usually his duality is able to pay off, one of the tactics having you melt right into his hand and do anything he wants. so he’s surprised when nothing seems to be working, almost getting the idea to use his size against you and drag you into his arms. 

and you see the exact moment that thought crosses his mind, reaching in your bag and wiping out the ruler you knew you were gonna need for this annoyingly handsome man. 

❥ jung wooyoung

“what is that even gonna do? that’s only a foot.”

“okay, so picture five more of those and stand over there.”

“babe….” he whined, looking you over in your mask and gloves while holding a ruler pointed threateningly toward him; this had been going on since he arrived 20 minutes ago.

“wooyoung, i’m serious! go!” you flail the piece of rubber in his face, the boy half-tempted to take it out of your hand and throw it in the street.

he knew you were anxious and scared and taking extra precautions to not get sick. but he hadn’t left his home in weeks either and has been taking the same amount of precautions: so, really, what was one kiss gonna do?

“so i can’t come in the house?” he whined, taking a few steps back so you can at least put the ruler down. “you’re the one who asked me to come over!”

“because i wanted to see you,” you tell him, pout behind your mask. “i didn’t say anything about kissing.”

“i figured that was a given,” he mumbled, the scoff leaving your mouth causing him to chuckle. he looks you over once more, standing there with a mask on your face while his hangs below his mouth. 

“if i’m six feet away, will you at least take off your mask?” he bargains, “i wanna see your face.”

“deal.”

and the sneaky fuck he is, the second you take it off he attempts to charge towards you; so, naturally, you throw the ruler at him and smile triumphantly when it hits him right in the chest.

❥ choi jongho

you figured given his age that the boy wouldn’t really be taking this seriously, maybe even make fun of you for being so cautious with your mask and gloves and strict schedule of not leaving the house. 

but he was extremely understanding, even learned from you and only asked to hang out when you told him you were sick of being in the house and wanted to start going on walks. 

the first few were great, six-feet apart as you walked through the streets talking and laughing about how you both had watched every single show on netflix. but then they more you laughed and had fun and the more he saw you smile, the more he wanted to touch you. 

he missed hugging you and feeling your lips against his and smiling into the kiss when you poked at his side teasingly. he also knew it was a risk to try it, just looking at you with a longing expression before leaning in ever so slightly. 

 and you’d almost forgotten about everything until you remembered this is not allowed and you jumped away from him.

“hey! that wasn’t fair!” you whined. he only smirked at you knowingly, a small frown on his face before he covers his mouth with his mask. 

“it was just gonna be for a second,” he mumbled, smiling when you break the six-feet apart rule to smack him in the arm playfully. 

[madroxed]

“YOU KNOW THAT YOUR BOOK IS UPSIDE DOWN, RIGHT?” [fic meme. SIMON/RAPHAEL, COLLEGE AU, ENEMIES TO LOVERS. for @hoechlder​. @ao3.]

+

“Okay,” Raphael Santiago’s saying, leaning back smoothly in his chair in a way that would absolutely have Simon unbalancing onto the floor, and offering his trademark smug smile at the poor girl across the table, “but madness as a trope has been at the base of the ghost story at least since Shakespeare…”

Simon tunes him out. It’s probably a really good point and he should be making notes, but he just….can’t. Raphael starts talking and Simon automatically switches off; it’s been that way since approximately nought point two seconds into their freshman year when Raphael had eyed Simon’s ironic Care Bears t-shirt with disgust and asked him if he wasn’t confusing college with elementary school.

Simon hates him.

+

“You don’t hate him,” Jace says later, when Simon’s finishing up rant number 1458 on why Raphael Santiago has been put on this earth specifically to torture him. Clary shoots Jace a sceptical look so Simon doesn’t have to. “He’s part of your college experience. Everyone needs a good nemesis.”

“Um,” Clary says, “who’s yours?”

“Your father,” Jace says, like it’s obvious. “I didn’t say it had to be another student. Izzy’s is the conservative dress code, and Alec’s is every obnoxious heterosexual couple he knows.”

“That’s us,” Clary tells Simon with a smile.

Jace salutes. “It’s worse because he has to spend all his time with us, but better because he can tell us to our face how gross we are.” He wipes away a fake tear. “He’ll look back on those memories fondly.”

“Okay, I get it. You guys get off on tormenting Alec,” Simon says, “but just so we’re clear, Raphael Santiago really is the worst.”

“We know, honey,” Clary says, patting his leg.

Simon feels very patronized.

+

Magnus decides that a Wednesday night is a totally reasonable time to throw a party, which is patently untrue but they all go anyway.

They lose Alec almost immediately, taking up his place at Magnus’ side as his boyfriend holds court, and Izzy disappears shortly after, followed by the eyes of roughly a million admirers Simon can’t fault for a second.

“You good?” Clary asks, and Simon waves a hand.

“Go. Find a corner to make out in. I’ll be fine.”

“Great, thanks,” Jace says, tugging Clary away before she can change her mind.

“You’re blocking the door,” a horribly familiar voice says, and Simon squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment before stepping aside.

“What are you doing here?” Simon asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t care, he really doesn’t, except that he absolutely does and it’s going to drive him crazy for the rest of the night.

Raphael shoots him a look that says he knows exactly how Simon feels. “Unfortunately, I live here.”

“Uh,” Simon says, and wonders if he knew that. He’s ninety-percent sure he didn’t, in which case he and Alec are going to have a serious chat. “Since when?”

“Since the start of the year.” Raphael rolls his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Magnus is technically my guardian. Was my guardian. Obviously that stopped being important when I turned eighteen, but the damage was done.”

“And by damage,” Simon says, “you mean emotions?”

He thinks Raphael may actually growl. It’s fascinating. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying? You looked a little lost in Monday’s seminar…”

“Wow,” Simon says, and wonders where the alcohol is, “A, not all of us feel the need to take over discussions. And B, fuck you.”

Raphael smirks, and Simon wants to scream. No one in the world is able to get under his skin this much, and that’s saying something considering he and Jace accidentally became friends in sophomore year.

“I’m walking away now,” Simon says, and ignores Raphael’s mocking laugh behind him.

+

Simon’s drunk. Very, very drunk. Possibly the most drunk he’s ever been.

“Nope,” Clary says, pointing her glass at him. Half of it sloshes over the rim. “Remember prom? We were wasted.”

“God,” Simon says, scrunching up his nose. “That was bad.”

“So bad,” Clary agrees. “Where’s the vodka?”

Simon passes her a bottle that, actually, may be tequila? Honestly at this point he’s not sure it matters.

“Did you know Raphael lives here?” he asks out of nowhere, and Clary gasps.

“No! Here here?”

“Yep!”

Clary blinks and drinks her tequila. “Wow. So weird. You should go say hi!”

Simon snorts. “I already did. Sort of.”

“Well go say it again,” Clary says, pushing ineffectively at his arm. “With sexy eyes or something.”

Simon’s brain shorts out. “…What? Why?”

Clary laughs. “Because you like him, doofus. You like like him. You want to kiss him and marry him and be shouty about…comic books and that show only you two watch forever.”

“You liar,” Simon says, because all of that is blatantly untrue. Clary has no idea what she’s talking about. Absolutely none. Simon hates Raphael. Hates his stupid smug smile and his expensive jackets and his perfect hair and the way he always makes Simon feel hot and awkward and like he’s the only person in the room.

“Oh shit,” he says, and Clary nods, patting him on the shoulder.

“S’ok,” she says.

“It really, really isn’t,” Simon says and snatches the bottle of tequila back.

+

It’s very possible he’s dying. Everything’s both very loud and very bright even though his eyes are definitely still closed, and it tastes like something’s died on his tongue.

“Fuck,” he croaks and rolls over only to crash promptly to the floor. “Fuck.”

When he finally manages to open his eyes, Raphael’s staring down at him, wearing a heavy brocade robe and holding a truly giant mug. “You okay down there?”

“Your couch sucks,” Simon says, and Raphael shrugs.

“Magnus chose it, blame him.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Simon asks, attempting to sit up and failing spectacularly.

“They, like normal house guests, went home when the party finished.”

“Ah,” Simon says. “And, uh, I…didn’t?”

Raphael frowns. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope,” Simon says with a wince. “Too much…I’m gonna guess tequila based on the throbbing behind my eyes.”

“…Right,” Raphael says, and if Simon didn’t know better he’d say he was upset. He’s probably just mad that Simon’s still there, taking up his couch on a Thursday morning and stopping him reading the entire works of Tolstoy or whatever it is Raphael does for fun.

“I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, you know, stand up without breaking something.”

Raphael sighs. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

+

The kitchen’s a disaster zone, bottles and empty cups everywhere, and Simon doesn’t want to know what he just stepped in. Still, the smell of fresh coffee manages to take away some of the edge and Simon goes through cupboards until he finds a mug almost as large of Raphael’s.

“So,” he says, when Raphael follows him as far as the doorframe, “did you, uh, need help cleaning up, or…?”

“You really don’t remember anything about last night?” Raphael says, ignoring the question, and Simon frowns.

“I mean, I remember getting here and you telling me you live here, and I remember Jace starting up a game of beer pong, but after that…nope, not really.”

“Do you remember the party Magnus threw for Isabelle’s birthday our freshman year?” Raphael asks, which is completely out of left field, wow.

“Sure,” Simon says carefully. “Not the specifics, but I remember it was a fun night.”

“So,” Raphael says, and Simon’s not so hungover he doesn’t recognize the danger in his tone, “you don’t remember finding me on the balcony and telling me that you, and I quote, found me ‘super hot, especially when I do that smug asshole thing.’?”

Simon blinks.

“And,” Raphael continues, “you don’t remember the fourth of July when you brought me melted ice-cream and told me you liked my voice? Or the time you kissed me in the garden at one of Isabelle’s stupid sorority parties?” He takes a step forward and Simon swallows nervously. “Or last night when you found me in my room and told me you wanted to marry me and have shouty arguments forever?”

“Um,” Simon says.

“I see,” Raphael says. “It was just the tequila, then.”

He turns to leave and Simon finally remember to actually do something.

“Wait,” he says, and Raphael pauses. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Raphael looks at him like he’s an idiot. Which…fair. “Because you didn’t.”

Which—

Fuck.

The thing is, well, okay, yeah. Simon’s had a crush on Raphael since he insulted his Care Bears t-shirt and proceeded to start an argument over the benefits of new media in literary studies. He knows this. Sure, he tries to keep it buried as far down in his own denial as he can, but it doesn’t help when he spends most of every shared seminar they have staring at the sharp jut of Raphael’s collarbone beneath his stupidly expensive button-downs.

It’s a thing.

He just…hadn’t known that maybe it was a shared thing.

“I woke up on the couch,” he says, which isn’t at all what he’d meant to come out of his mouth but at least it’s a full sentence.

“Obviously,” Raphael says. “You were wasted.”

“So I didn’t kiss you?”

The corner of Raphael’s mouth tilts up, just a little. “Oh, you did.”

“So you didn’t kiss me back?” Simon says, piecing events together slowly but surely.

“I never do,” Raphael says, and Simon frowns, feeling confused and a little hurt. “I always tell you to kiss me when you’re sober. You never do.”

Simon, it turns out, is the biggest idiot on the planet. Clearly college is wasted on him.

“Right,” he says, digging the last remnants of his bravery out from his pounding skull. “Right.”

It’s probably not super romantic that he steps in the wet patch again, but as first kisses goes it’s…well. It’s pretty fucking excellent, actually.

Right up until Raphael pulls away.

“God, you really need to brush your teeth.”

“Yeah,” Simon says, backing up awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ll just—”

“There’s spare toothbrushes under the sink,” Raphael says, rolling his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks gives him away.

“Be right back,” Simon says, and tries to remember where the bathroom is.

+

Raphael’s doing the leaning thing again. Simon wants to try it but he’s not going to risk crashing to the floor whilst they’re still in the honeymoon phase. Besides, he doesn’t think he’d look anywhere near as cool.

Raphael’s embroidered jacket is draped over the back of his chair and his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and Simon has no idea what conversation the professor’s just struck up.

Which isn’t too different from normal, really.

Raphael catches his eye and Simon’s heart does a truly embarrassing skippy thing in his chest.

“You know that your book is upside down, right?” Raphael says, smirk sliding into place, and Simon sighs.

He can always kiss it away later.

+

[for the au + trope + prompt game. send me one!]